Dear Jesus,
At my house, we write thank you notes. I think that surprises people sometimes. I mean, we've always done it. When we were little, we couldn't play with any of our toys until we wrote our thank you notes. I thought it was a cruel and unusual punishment then. After all, I had spent all Christmas Eve in a squirming bundle of sleepless expectation waiting for Christmas to come. In the early hours of morning, I'd dash down the stairs to behold a Christmas tree swimming amongst a pile of gifts. With childish dexterity,I would turn the Christmas tree lights on. Then, in wonder, I would go a couple of feet away from the tree and lay on my stomach and just gaze at this brilliant picture. There I would wait. The expectation was great.
Anymore, Christmas is not like that for me. The reality is working eight to nine hellish hours in a busy bakery up until Christmas Eve. During that time, I forget my wonder. My eyes glaze over in exhaustion as I wait in a horribly long line of other last minute Christmas shoppers. People are cranky and rude. During that time, I forget my childish awe. Christmas is not what it used to be. I have become a disillusioned old hag.
And yet, in all of this, I find that I am grateful. Thank you for this season that is so widely celebrated. When I drive anywhere at night, my way is lit by Christmas displays and colorful bushes. Perhaps some do celebrate Christmas for the wrong reason. However, someone recognizes the fact that something needs to be celebrated. I am thankful for the music of hope and cheer that celebrates Your birth and Christmas magic. It lightens my heart. Thank you for giving us a reason to exchange gifts and promote generosity. Sure, some might feel obligated, but when else are you encouraged to give in this way?
Jesus, thank you for being my best friend and wanting to know me. Thank you for choosing us. I still don't understand why.
Please stay close to me.
I love you.
Love,
Barbara
