light of the world

The kids wake early. The throng around the tree is screaming you know. It’s a frenzy, but short lived. The aftermath is a room waist deep in wrapping paper and packaging. The sun has just made its direct hit, having topped the trees in the back. The living room is flooded with sunlight. Will’s suncatcher begins to rotate in the kitchen window. Tiny rainbows make their way across the walls, around the room. I am drawn to the deck. As I open the back door a titmouse flutters off the rail to a tree. There is singing everywhere, in every tree. Do they know it’s Christmas morning? Are these creation’s memories of that morning so long ago. Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth, peace and goodwill to men on whom His favor rests.
Was it a morning like this when first you opened your eyes to the light of day, full of glorious luminescence? The sun you spoke into existence, blinding with its first rays of morning. Did you remember the brilliance that you’d left and feel the overwhelming darkness into which you’d stepped? Did you desire to shed the flesh that masked your brilliance and overwhelm the light you’d created with the light that you are?
What was going through your little neo-natal cone head that day? What did your little swollen, puffy eyes see? What did your racing heart feel? Completely dependent upon the nourishment and care of those you’d come to care for. Vulnerable, humbled. This is a humbling morning.