If only snow wouldn't fall on the roads

If only snow wouldn't fall on the roads. 

I told our grands that God did all this programming — the birds know when to migrate, other animals when to hibernate, but He forgot to program the snow to stay off the roads. Still this new blanket of white flung over the landscape makes it Christmasy outside. 

I have very little done in the Big Checklist. Yesterday — when I'd planned to accomplish much — was a bust. A family disturbance intervened. And those can sidetrack me in a hurry, consuming my thoughts. This morning someone encouraged me with a psalm — a call to God to let “the meditation of my heart” be acceptable in His sight. I felt the pall lift — and the bounce return. 

Many people have things that interfere with and consume Christmas joy. Which is why this is exactly the time to switch the heart's thinking — if one possibly can — to the wonderful offerings filling the season. 

Cookies: With our daughter now in Kentucky there is no more dining table replete with cookies to exchange. Just the memory of all those colorful varieties — and the fun of packing boxes for home — brings joy. Cookies are universal — crumbs that feed the world. They bring together people of all cultures. 

Music: Whether listening to sacred or popular songs, there is a lift to the words. The lyrics call me to celebration and goodwill. The words and tunes have a way of growing wings that carry me above my burdens.  

Christmas trees: Ours is artificial for the first time ever. I keep thinking I need to water it. I don't miss all the contortions. The decorations tell our life — even the bird nests hidden among the branches. The “kingdom of heaven” is compared with a tree that grows and spreads its limbs, and the “bird’s nest in its branches. "I think this is why I've always been attached to a real tree.  

Gifts: Giving or receiving — there's nothing like a gift with a specific someone in mind. Several years back I was making a phone order for a bread maker from a box store, and got into a fun conversation with Vanessa, in Atlanta. Having accepted my request for her address — with “Pine” in it — I now send her a little something every year with a pine motif. 

Candles: My tradition is to stay up as late as I can on Christmas Eve — my favorite night of the year. Can't pull an all-nighter anymore. Until I gave myself a bout of carbon monoxide poisoning from candles, I used to light a couple dozen. Candleglow (but not too many) is peaceful — quiet and hopeful. 

Stories: Stories abound at Christmas. The Bible. "'Twas The Night Before Christmas", "The Nutcracker", "A Christmas Carol", "It's A Wonderful Life", "Charlie Brown's Christmas" and Handel's "Messiah". It all started with an unequaled story — and we've been writing and telling stories ever since. Stories make us more than ourselves — create windows for climbing into unknown worlds.  

Family and friends: In its best version, there are no barriers between people. There is joy in being together, and a love that swells and seeks good for one another. There are trains and planes and cars carrying us to each other. In truth, there are those missing — and pain in broken relationships. Christmas invites hope for healed reunions to come — but also tells the need for a Savior in a muddy and tired world. 

Probably no one's Christmas will be perfect. “Tidings of comfort and joy” is just that. I might lean more in one direction than another in any given year. But I can offer the “meditation of my heart” to God, like a Christmas card — and let Him make it into something acceptable and holy.