Awakening Holiday Wonder Again

I sipped coffee alone in a cottage Saturday morning. The rest of our crew entertained themselves in the other rented cabin, allowing me extra time to sleep. Regardless, I woke with weak ankles and a worn body, but for a very good reason.

The day after Thanksgiving, Courtney, Nathan, Sam, and I drove to Callaway Gardens to enjoy the Fantasy in Lights show with their dad's family. After enduring the outdoor family tradition for many years in severe cold and rain, a mild temperature made for a delightful time together.

However, the grown up crew, made up of mostly young men, critiqued the display more than they enjoyed it.

I don't blame them. After riding through the same light exhibit for over ten years, maybe even fifteen, the broken lights stuck out, the grandeur turned mundane, and the predictability left a few bored.

We still had fun, but in an " I'm too old for this" kind of way.

When the family dispersed for the night, my foursome lodged at the Holly House of Hamilton, a lovely bed and breakfast locale not far from the gardens. By midafternoon the next day, Don and his crew joined us for a night's stay in cottages near-by, including another trolley ride through the lights.

My boys and Courtney didn't stick around for round two. So when I climbed onto a trolley for the second night in a row, I was surrounded by Don's grown children and our six young grandchildren who thought they'd entered a magical, winter wonderland.

Their excitement transformed the ride.

Catherine and Hazel, ages seven and six, danced their way through the trolley line, declaring it the best day ever. As we wound through the lit forest, enthusiastic commentary ensued. Adam, who turns three this weekend, even asked to do it again when we exited.

The contrast was striking.

Wonder awoke. The décor came alive. And all that is good about the holidays wrapped around us in the cool night air.

Viewing the sites through the hearts of our grandchildren made all the difference in the world.

After the trolley ride, the little ones visited with Santa and then munched on kettle corn outside, where fake snow fell every half hour from machines perched high.

Before parting, we huddled on blankets stretched out on a large lawn that overlooked a wide beach. As we watched, an oversized Nativity display lit up while a narrator told the story of Jesus' birth, interspersed with music.




There on the lawn, as the story unfolded, Catherine and Hazel held hands and danced like Ballerina's, overflowing with joy. As I watched them and listened to the story one more time, the simplicity of it all was laid bare. God came to earth and changed things forever.

However, a few days later, terrorists gunned down every day citizens at a holiday party. And about the same time I finally made a doctor's appointment and now have an MRI of my neck scheduled next week.

In fact, between now and Christmas, I have four big doctor appointments: the MRI, a double vision check-up, a follow up with Emory Genetics now that my genome sequencing is complete, and a CT scan to make sure the lesions on my spleen are still gone.

The line-up makes me a tad weary, which takes me back to last weekend.

Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. and whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me" (Matthew 18: 3 - 5 NIV).

Could it be that as we grow, seeing the world through eyes of wonder is a continual choice?

I think so.

When childlike innocence gives way to adult reasoning and rationale, our ability to experience wonder is challenged. The weight of the world, that combines our struggles with local and global atrocities, threatens to bog us down and taint our perceptions.

Thus if we're not careful, we can arrive at the holidays with heavy hearts that only see burned out bulbs and allow the same old narrative to blend into the background of strife.

Whether we embrace the baby's birth or not, the wonder is real; the bad stuff, temporary.

So close your eyes and remember. Remember the baby who was born into nothing, yet made a way for us to have daily communion with the God of Heaven.

Seriously. Let the notion give you chills. Allow your imagination to fly, to believe that good prevails, that evil does not win, and that God has been working to redeem mankind since evil first entered the world.

It sounds like a fairy tale. I know.

Which is why Jesus stated, "Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven" (Matthew 18: 3 NIV).

Twirl, dance, revel in the holiness, bask in the wonder. God came to earth and things have never been the same.

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