This afternoon, after thinking about the beautiful Christmas carols that have become such an integral part of my life, I began humming a crazy, totally unrelated but seasonal song. 鈥淚鈥檓 getting nothing for Christmas, Mommy and Daddy are mad; I鈥檓 getting nothing for Christmas 鈥榗ause I ain鈥檛 been nothing but bad.鈥�
Definitely not what I had in mind when I think of this very special time of year but having said that, the invasive melody and those negative lyrics made me realize there鈥檚 more truth in those words than I鈥檇 first thought. While I鈥檓 definitely not admitting to horrible behaviour and I really hope I do get something nice for Christmas, the ditty got my thought pattern changed from the usual to realizing the story of Christmas is the embodiment of things given and received, none of which I deserve.
First, I did nothing to deserve or earn the gift of freedom that we enjoy here in North America. Refugee families in our little community remind me daily how privileged we are to live here. It鈥檚 not perfect but far from the chaos endured by millions around the world.
Then, there is the gift of beauty: even as I write I turn my head to gaze at snow-covered mountains seemingly rising from the shores of the Pacific Ocean but even that view does nothing to diminish my memories of the beauty of prairie landscapes.
Daily I give thanks for the gifts of family, friends, neighbours, readers from around the world and closer to home, members of a wonderful community.
Above all, however, I鈥檝e gained a fresh understanding that Christmas really is all about a gift, a gift available to each of us, folks who like, the subject of that song, have been anything but perfect.
鈥淏ut thanks be to God for His unspeakable Gift鈥�.鈥� Amen.
