Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.
Psalm 47:1 (NIV)
Growing up Christmas was always a happy time of the year. For as long as I can remember, just before Christmas I heard the hum of Mom’s sewing machine, as she worked late into the night. She sewed for three girls and two boys. My mother did this while holding down a full time job during the day, keeping the house clean, and taking care of everything else while Dad was usually stationed far away. He often didn’t make it home for the holidays.
Christmas morning found Mom in the kitchen singing while fixing a meal fit for a king. At least we thought so. While opening our presents she turned the radio on to hear Christmas carols being sung. The house was filled with music and kids shrieking with delight when they tore the paper off their presents.
I’ve often wondered what it sounded like that first Christmas morning. No music, but angels singing of Christ’s birth, the gentle bray of a donkey, or a lamb bleating. Jesus nestled in Mary’s arms cooing as he gazed into her face. Perhaps He curled his tiny hand around her finger as she stroked his cheek.
Dear Father, thank you for the gift of your son. I am truly blessed to know I’m loved so much. Amen.