Day Twenty-Three: Believe

            It’s Christmas Eve.  That might seem like an obvious statement, but it’s an important one.  I can remember when I was younger, riding in the car on a crisp winter night to my grandparents house in Wisconsin.  I was nine or ten and I was fascinated by the full moon.  The light was reflecting off the snow and the world was so beautiful.  We went to my grandparent’s house every Christmas Eve and every Christmas Santa came ringing his jingle bells and bringing presents.  I was old enough to know the secret that my grandfather shared with Santa.  My belief hadn’t been shattered when I learned the secret, instead my belief grew stronger.  I knew Santa would be there tonight after dinner, ringing his sleigh bells, and of course he came.

            Years later when I was in my early twenties my mother stopped doing stockings for all the kids.  She believed we were all too old for that sort of thing.  I was heartbroken.  It wasn’t the stocking that held the magic of Christmas for me, I held that magic within me, but it felt like just because I was older that it was silly to believe in the magic of Christmas.  I got myself a Santa hat that said I believe and wore it every Christmas for the next half dozen years or so. 

            Then one Christmas about three years ago the magic went out of Christmas, like a bulb going out on a string of lights.  I had protected my belief of Christmas magic, but that year I was lost.  My husband was deployed again and I saw no point in decorating the house for just one person.  I put up the tree, but only half-heartedly.  The cats climbed in it and destroyed in, I wasn’t surprised.  The next year my husband was home, but I didn’t decorate again.  We put up the tree on Christmas Eve and I hadn’t even wanted to do that.  

            This year, I wanted a real tree.  I was hoping for a Blue Spruce, but settled on a Douglas Fir.  After a small mishap in trying to find a tree stand we managed to get our tree up.  Now the tree is decorated and the cookies are made.  The house isn’t decorated, but this time it’s not from lacking of wanting, I just ran out of time.  Last night we turned off all the lights in the house and sat in front of the Christmas tree.  As I stared at the colored lights, the pretty star and the garland that we didn’t quite have enough of the magic of Christmas began to stir again.  My belief is still there, waiting to be remembered.  It’s a tiny flame flicking in the face of doubt.  Tonight, I will go to sleep dreaming of snow, reindeer, and sleigh bells.  Tomorrow, I will love my husband and we will be together, holding each other in front of the tree.