8.45 a.m. December 26th 2006
It is our family Christmas celebration today and all is ready, awaiting the arrival of six grandchildren, two children and their spouses, and a friend who joins us for special celebrations.
There is a certain hush when all of the preparations for a special celebration have been made and you are waiting for it to begin--a sort of calm before the storm.
After a mild and sunny lead up to Christmas, this morning as I look out of my kitchen window, snow is falling--how perfect! Silently the snowflakes fall as if from some inexhaustible supply above. They look as light as goose feathers and yet they plummet to the ground with purpose, as though bent upon their mission of transforming the world into winter.
A scarlet pomegranate-scented candle fills the room where I now sit with its fragrance and the gentle flame gives a bright glow, its black wick rising from a crimson sea of melted wax.
The oak wall clock ticks on as comfortingly as the heart-beat in the chest of a lover--tick-tock--tick-tock.
Warm air sighs through the house from the furnace with a background whooooosh that we don't hear unless we pay attention. I am grateful for the comforting warmth of our home; for the scent of pomegranate, the plentiful feast that waits and the dear family that will gather soon to celebrate with us.
Grandchildren are about to explode upon the scene from a silver Honda van and the apartment downstairs. We will rejoice in their bright eyes, diverse personalities and energy, but for these moments of quiet reflection, I am also grateful.