Thursday, December 27, 2007

holiness everywhere

A very roundy boy sat close enough to be half under my armpit and half over my lap. His mother and father had already been blessed with three "roundy" children. This description fits them completely, as their cheeks are soft and round, as are their blond foreheads, fingers, and tummies. #1 Daughter and I greeted these three adorable cherubs when they awoke, as per their parents request. (We told them to call us anytime, and four a.m. certainly qualified as "anytime"!) Mommy and Daddy were off to the hospital to welcome their Christmas Eve baby into the world. We were left in charge of the home-front: the Land of Sippy-Cups, Jammies, Super Heroes, and Chutes-n-Ladders.

But back to this roundy boy. His exuberance in having my complete attention had completely won my heart. He climbed onto the couch with a book about the Nativity and, to my great surprise, unabashedly began to read it aloud. His name is Noah and he is five years old. Words like shepherd and manger and even Bethlehem tripped easily enough off his tongue. He pointed out the star, the angels, and the animals with great authority. Together we admired the Baby Jesus in his bed of straw. The childish lilt of sounding out the words along with my soft intonation of "help" made the telling of this beloved tale akin to a responsive prayer like the ones found in the back of church hymnals. It was the kind of liturgy that just happens; the kind you wish you could work into your schedule on a regular basis but you can't because it is hard work to sit on a couch and wait for something holy to drop by.

That night, the Christmas Eve choir sang a song in honor of Jesus' birth. It, too, was liturgy.
A child is born, Alleluia!
A child is born, Alleluia!
Magnificent Glory, Alleluia,
Magnificent Light, Alleluia!

Above the golden glow of molten white candles, I took in a hundred faces that I love. Their mouths were full of His praise; the praise was tinged with wonder. Anything beyond our imagination demands our wonder, and wonder is a lovely type of praise.

The day after Christmas, #1 Daughter, Friend #12, and I paid a visit to admire two-day-old Zoe. Three excited siblings, damp heads fresh from the bath, leaped around me as I cradled her lovely roundness in my arms. Noah screeched to a halt and tenderly stroked her moist cheek.
"I love her face," he exclaimed brightly as he drank her newness in. "I love all my sisters' faces." He then dashed off in a very abrupt super-hero manner leaving me breathless with joy.

These choice moments were part of my Christmas week.


Blogger TrashTidBits said...

Can I have a private viewing of the show at your house when I return? I'll eat chicken soup too.

5:41 PM  

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