Love Has Come

A few weeks ago, after the time had ‘fallen back’ (i.e., setting the clock back an hour), I pulled a chair into the fast fading rays of afternoon sunlight. It was only a little after four o’clock, and the sun had already begun to slip behind the trees. I determined to soak up every last drop of golden goodness before it vanished and the cold evening air swept in. As I sat basking in the light that peered through the branches, I was filled with thankfulness for its warmth on my face and the way previously unseen spiderwebs stretched across the lawn sparkling like strings of diamonds.

In moments like these, when the most ordinary of experiences become extraordinary, I catch a glimpse of something eternal tucked into a fleeting earthbound experience. It doesn’t take much. The sight of a maple clothed in scarlet splendor, a middle-aged son stooping to kiss his aged father’s head, the hand that reaches for mine beneath the covers. Any of these or a hundred others like them seem to point to something profound.

These things don’t seem all that grand. Just another happening in a string of happenings as the clock spins round and round. In reality, they are the revelation over and over again that love has come.

Kind of like a baby in his young mother’s arms. She presses her lips to his downy soft head and lies him down. Not in a bed, but a manger. Amid the sounds and smells of animals sleeps a king with no crown, no palace, no court. Just an ordinary, extraordinary baby. Eternity tucked into an earthbound experience.

It must have been awkward, uncomfortable. I mean, just imagine giving birth to a baby in a barn. I wonder if there were passersby that night. Was there even an inkling that something of utmost significance was taking place? The King of Kings lay wrapped in strips of swaddling cloth on a bed of hay while the world went on as usual. Yet, everything had changed.

How many times do we fail to recognize love’s subtle appearance in our daily lives? Even in this season when our focus should be peace and goodwill toward men, we’re anxious, stressed, and distracted. Pulled into a hundred different directions. Constantly going over our mental checklist of what needs to be done, and worried that we’ll miss something or spend too much money.

I hope that at some point during the wild and wonderful chaos of this special season, we’ll pull a chair into the Light and let it warm us. My prayer is that each of us will find, among the most ordinary of moments, the truth that Love has come.

Merry Christmas, everyone.