Ordinary and In Between

Right now, Pascal and Kachi are sleeping. Vava is cuddled up with Patrick, watching a cartoon Anne of Green Gables. Sam is playing Super Mario on the Wii. A soft glow is shining outside, the magic of streetlights on snow, and I am sitting by the window, watching their faces. 

I love them so much. 

There's a picture I've seen circulating on Facebook lately, a painting of Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus. Joseph is sitting, leaning up against the wall, and Mary is lying on the floor next to the manger. Starlight gleams on the Baby's face. 

It captures a stillness I don't often think about - after the flurry of birth, before the hurrying in of awestruck shepherds. Usually I see paintings of the Big Moments of that holy night. Angels announcing. Innkeepers refusing. Shepherds adoring. I tend to think about the moments that are recorded - and not the great homely gaps in between. 

But in my own life, the moments that are the sweetest, the deepest, the true ones that make a sort of glue that presses heart close to heart, they're not particularly noteworthy. They're not awards ceremonies or great achievements. They're just the ordinary goodness of the everyday. Sam holding Pascal's hand as he helps him to the swing set. Vava teaching Kachi how to draw a polar bear. The kids deciding to have a puppy lunch, eating from bowls on the floor. Playing Wii and watching YouTube.

I love that the artist shared a glimpse of the glorious ordinary in that first Christmas. Holy, beautiful, restful - and ordinary. 

This Christmas, in between the bright spots - the guests, the presents, the tree, the toasts - may the simple gift of your ordinary moments fill your hearts with peace, my friends. 

Merry Christmas.