Remembering that It Happened Once
Remembering that it happened once,
We cannot turn away the thought,
As we go out, cold, to our barns
Toward the long night’s end, that we
Ourselves are living in the world
It happened in when it first happened,
That we ourselves, opening a stall
(A latch thrown open countless times
Before), might find them breathing there,
Foreknown: the Child bedded in straw,
The mother kneeling over Him,
The husband standing in belief
He scarcely can believe, in light
That lights them from no source we see,
An April morning’s light, the air
Around them joyful as a choir.
We stand with one hand on the door,
Looking into another world
That is this world, the pale daylight
Coming just as before, our chores
To do, the cattle all awake,
Our own frozen breath hanging
In front of us; and we are here
As we have never been before,
Sighted as not before, our place
Holy, although we knew it not.
Wendell Berry
The dogs are my alarm clock and every day (Christmas Eve or not), we are up at the crack of dawn. Getting out of a warm bed to take the boys outside can be difficult but sunrises are a welcome panacea to the cold and snow. This morning was particularly beautiful and as I walked around outside, camera in hand, the phrase 'Christmas Magic' popped up, over and over. There is magic everywhere— in dancing snowflakes back-lit by the early morning sun, on the faces of my children on Christmas morning, in the kitchen as I prepare our Christmas meal, in the laughter and banter over a game of Monopoly, in the glow of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve when the house is quiet and I count every one of the blessings I've been given over the past year. Here's to a Christmas filled with love, laughter, good friends, family, lots of good food, even better wine and most of all, magic.
