Just a Little Longer

 

There's something uniquely hushed about the 'after Christmas' space. At least it's like that at our house.

Before Christmas there's all the anticipatory celebrations, the build up, the lovely, happy getting-ready of it all.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning is all 'yay and hooray' in the bigness and brightness of it all.

And then comes that quiet space, when we the light the candles and listen to Christmas music and eat chocolate, do a new puzzle, read that new book for a bit, and maybe even get ourselves up off the couch and go for a walk. Or not. That's the point. No expectations. No where to be but at home. Nothing to do, just be.

For sure, more family dinners are yet to happen for us this year. We've made it a practice to simplify our complicated holiday schedules by pacing it out and letting the whole week be open for the comings and goings of being together.

But more often than not, and now quite intentionally, the last part of Christmas Day, and today especially, Boxing Day, is protected as 'just one more day' to 'lie still' - like the little town of Bethlehem itself.

I linger here.

It's quiet here.

Like those first quiet hours for Mary, I expect. When the labouring was done and the Baby was joyfully welcomed. Then washed, and wrapped, and nursed until He was all sleepy. And the shepherds were gone. And there was nothing left to do but just be quiet together, this new little family.

Treasuring up. Pondering.

"But Mary treasured up all these things,
and pondered them in her heart."
Luke 2:19

I need this. It's been an amazing and/but intensive fall.

December's return/recovery has taken a bit more time than usual.

Christmas has been lovely and a little different.
The New Year holds some new things.
Things to do, places to go.

But.

Not today.