Why I Still Love Christmas

Despite turning my back on the systems of belief that hold possession of this holiday, it is still one of my favorites. Despite not ever *truly* celebrating it's REAL purpose, I cannot help but celebrate all that accompanies it. I listen to the music, I am enraptured by the stories, I am enthralled by the lights, the candles, the garland.

And of course, this is natural. Christmas, in many ways, is home. It is the time of year you remember the itching of days when you were small, the trips home when you were in college. The grand reunions between you and everyone you love most. Just the sound of carols takes me immediately to the Little Theater, with my friends performing in the band, the chorus, the orchestra. I remember the first Christmas back from college, standing in Oakdale Park in the bitter cold, a million stars above us as Scott sang an Italian aria he had learned that semester we were all away. I remember sledding down Indian Rock, driving haphazardly through Salina, Kansas on the Tour DeLights . . . or even, most recently, carrying a giant wooden easel into the house for Sarah and then hours later driving myself to the emergency room, because I would not go earlier, would not miss her Christmas.

It's a magical time. It's filled with memories and sentimental traditions. How could I not love it? But you might not understand to the *extent* I am enthralled with this holiday. I fully embrace it and all it's ridiculous and tchotchkie-licious remnants. I adore for far more than the memories and warmth it has given me throughout the years.

It's greater than that.

And no, I don't' mean the birth of Jesus.

And, yes, that's exactly what I'm referring to.

This holiday stands alone to me, in the giant list of overly-marketed holidays, as the one that truly has a wonderful, magical, amazing message we should be shouting about. Ringing bells, grasping hands, lighting candles, raising wreaths. Not because of a messiah, not because of who this child was. But THAT he was. And how the world has since responded.

The world responded. That is what I find so very magical. This holiday isn't about giving presents or babies' birthdays or magical men and their deer to me. It's about the smallest of beings and the course of the world. It's about hope.

It's the promise to each of us that great change can come. Great change does happen. In the most remote of places, on the quietest of nights; in the smallest of beings.

Greatness exists. It does not shout, it does not render terrifyingly. It cries against the wrong, it whispers to a world ready to hear it. And it can be heard.

The smallest of humans changed the course of humanity. It can be done. There is love; there is hope. There is greatness.

And whether you believe that small babe born thousands of years ago truly walked the earth as the son of god, or whether you take this tale as just that - a tale told within the confines of a belief - the message stands as strong.

There is still a story of a small babe, born in the hardest of times; who, just by his appearance began to change the path of a world gone wrong. And that, to me, is worth celebrating. Worth revering. Worth taking to heart.

There is always hope to change the world. And none too small to do so.

Merry Christmas, my friends. Here’s to us doing just that, finding a way to change the course. In the spirit of an incredibly brilliant story.