..the never ending, continuous outpouring of Christmas music. From my laptop. From my car. From the family's CD stereo. From my iPod. And from my daydream humming.
Without a doubt, this is my favorite time of year.
When all too quickly flipping through my agenda, I sometimes accidentally bypass December. And literally, a surge of despair rushes through my veins. I haven't missed Christmas! No! Not yet! Go back--quick! Soon follows the inaudible sigh of relief as the the eleventh month of the year flashes on the correct page. Phew! Dodged a bullet.
Josh Groban's soothing vocals, George Winston's inspirational piano, Mormon Tabernacle Choir's powerful sound, Sarah McLachlan's peaceful melodies, Mannheim Steamroller's funky new-age perspective, and James Taylor's folksy tunes...
Nothing really puts me more in the Christmas mood than music. Other than the scent of wilderness Pine right in my living room, the delightful wrapping paper colors, the hustle and bustle of holiday shoppers, pretty party dresses, and the FOOD! Oooh, the food. The delectable aroma of my mother's caramels boiling, a recipe which has been passed on from generation to generation, always signifies the time to celebrate the birth of Christ. We refuse to allow my mother to make them eleven months out of the year...
...And most of all, the true spirit of the Holidays. The Spirit of Jesus Christ, and celebrating His life, His purpose, and the happiness He inevitably brings me.
No matter what Deity you may reference for celebrating the beauty of life, as I know billions differ from mine, isn't it so great to know we each can find happiness in our own right? By our own means, and through different faiths? That, to me, is the core of the spirit of Christmas (and of life, really). A time to honor whomever or whatever we choose.
So, cheers. Cheers with your finest wine, your diet coke, your eggnog, your lemon water, or your aged cognac. Cheers to this MAGNIFICENT time of year!
Merry Christmas.
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1 comment:
I'm not ready yet, but maybe if I had some of those delicious carmels, I could be pursuaded to start celebrating . . .
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