Little Moments of Christmas . . . and New Year’s

Filed in: Life

I truly hope everyone had an amazing Christmas season. I know that some of my readers had health issues (I was praying!) and some are dealing with loss, while others faced disappointment. While Christmas is a time of introspection, worship, and remembrance, it’s still a part of life. People love, hurt, sometimes die. So it’s also a time of remembering that we are still very much in God’s hands.

As you can tell from the previous paragraph, I’ve been spending a lot of time in prayer and reflection. I do that more at Christmas than I do at New Year’s, probably because this is a spiritual holiday, one of the soul and heart, while New Year’s is about fun and renewal. On New Year’s Eve, I’m more likely to party hard and celebrate my past. After all, nothing recalls a childhood in a small Southern town like a day centered on a meal of ham, black-eyed peas, and corn bread. (And I make corn bread that will make your mouth hum…)

At Christmas, I focus on my relationships . . . with God, good friends, and family. And I’m usually encouraged by how the “Little Moments” (as Mr. Paisley calls them) still ring the truest, with the most intimacy.

This year, for instance, I got to see pictures of my brother’s cats for the first time. Like him, they are well-fed and sassy. He and Adrienne also refinished the old pie safe they got from my mom, and it meant a lot to see how pleased she was with their respect for a heirloom that once cost $4.98 (only a sign of its age, not its true worth).

I didn’t have a great deal of money to spend this year, so my gifts were small but carefully chosen. Most were fun but practical, so I hope they’ll be put to good use.

One of the most expensive gifts I ever presented at Christmas was one for my dad—an elaborate train set he’d wanted since he was a child. Joyous, he gave the biggest response I’ve ever gotten (lots of laughs and hugs). But he only used it once or twice, then put it on a display shelf. After he died, it disappeared, and I’m not sure what happened to it. The only thing left behind is a single photo of him laughing as he opened the gift, which I cherish.

What I cherish even more, however, is the photo I have him making choo-choo noises to my infant daughter. He could make her laugh like no one else. His gift to both of us.

So embrace the little moments, at Christmas and through the year. Reflect on them, and pass them on, in story and photos. Fifty years from now, it’s these that will make your kids sigh and tear-up, long after the latest video game has vanished into the ether.

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