Deep within us is a life-force.
We hold this soul-energy in our hearts, but it cannot be contained. Spirit shines through us, extending to others, even after we are gone. My departed buddy Doug captured its essence in song, rendering lyrics from sentiments expressed by the Sufi poet Hafiz:
Even after all these years
The sun never tells the earth
You owe me
What kind of love is that?
It lights up the whole world.
“All that we love deeply becomes a part of us*.” Therein lies the beauty and the mystery of the Spirit of Christmas.
My mother used to make Noel balls, a round, dense, nut-filled cookie covered with confectionary sugar. Mom tried to hide them, wanting to save them for Christmas Day. In her absence, I searched the house and usually found them, liberating one (or two) from the round tin where they were secretly tucked away.
Mom sang in the church choir. I can still hear her deep tenor voice ringing out Bing Crosby Christmas Carols.
Her Spirit lives on!
Dad was more of the Ward Clever type (from the 1960s TV sitcom Leave It To Beaver). He was loving, stern, and more at ease dispensing life lessons than football scores. On Christmas Eve, Mom cooked the meal, set the table, and wrapped the presents. Dad, sitting in his favorite chair, read the Christmas story out loud from the Good Book (King James Version). Dad loved to relay stories of the Depression Era Christmases of his childhood. He never fully made peace with the modern world.
Dad’s Spirit lives on as well!
Our Spirit lives on too, whether we believe it or not. I have no idea what my Spirit will be up to on future Christmases, but I bet my children will know!
It takes effort to be truly present at Christmastime. There are so many places to go, things to do, gifts to buy, and guests to entertain. Then, before we know it, we’re boxing up ornaments, taking the tree down, and getting it out to the curb in time for recycling to pick it up.
We live in Minnesota, and most years snow is piled high along the roadside where snowplows push it out of the way. Plopping the tree down prostrate in the snow is always a melancholy task. Where did the Christmas Spirit go? It was just here!
Then, a year passes, a new tree is decorated, and the Spirit of Christmas returns. The time interval between visits gets shorter every year.
In truth, the Spirit of Christmas never leaves. It just gets buried under the detritus of life. Spirit is always present, waiting patiently to find us in moments of peace.
May the Spirit live on within you and your loved ones this Christmas!
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*Quotation from the blind and deaf American writer and disability rights activist Helen Keller.
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Towards A Life Well-Lived 