How My Heart Finds Christmas
For the past fifteen years, I’ve been writing Christmas stories for various magazines. Each year as I sit down to compose yet another, I feel a pleasant warmth flood into my heart. Each year I draw on memories to inspire my tales and carry me into the true spirit of Christmas, but it was only last year I realized it was through my stories that my heart re-discovers the wonder that is Christmas year after year.
An occasional mutter from Steve, as we tramped along, reaffirmed he still wasn’t happy with our second choice excursion.
We paused as we reached the bank above the river and suddenly…magic. Shy at first, then gradually sprouting higher and higher up among the stars in the night sky, the Northern Lights appeared. Undulating like mystic spirits gowned in green and white, they rose and rose, then doubled back on themselves to rise again. The heavens danced, alive with their essence.
I glanced down at Steve. With the dogs sitting by his side, he stared spellbound.
In the Far North, people say they’ve heard the Northern Lights speak in the whistling voice of migratory birds. Auroras, they claim, are sent to buoy up people’s spirits during the long winter when the sun doesn’t shine.
Apparently they had the same effect on my son.
“Wow!” he breathed, delighted astonishment erasing all traces of discontent.
No neon display could equal it. “Bah humbug” faded from my thoughts, the wonder that is Christmas reviving in my heart in the presence of this, truly one of nature’s priceless gifts.
When the mystic dance finally began to recede, we turned and headed back to the camp. The enchanted lights of the winter night would fade from the sky but never from my memory or that of the entranced boy by my side. Those magical moments in the moonlight would live forever within us, one we could never have experienced if we hadn’t made that annual Yuletide trek to the camp. Now, each year, their memory helps revive the magic of Christmas in my heart.