These Full and Holy Days

My mind has been drifting back in time this past week. I've been remembering holidays past. Some have been glorious gifts of life and others have been days simply to survive. I recall tables full of food, more food than anyone should eat. We'd wade into the yard full bellied to pick up pine cones and pecans. My mom would choose the most ill-suited Christmas tree. The one that required the most sawing, cutting and cursing from my father as he shoved it into the tree stand like a too small high heel on a too large lady's foot. I remember Christmas parties, with dancing and giant video cameras set to record moments more precious than we knew. Then there is the loss. The last Christmases with one's we loved. Those we still love and who's seats will always be empty in our hearts till the end. All of these scenes fill my mind with memories and my senses with cinnamon, nutmeg, bonfires and pumpkin pie.

I've been remembering, but I've also been re-imagining. 

What can a day of thanks be in the midst of a life of thanks? 
What can Christmas be for the Easter people? 
How will my daughter remember these years of childhood wonder? 

When my daughter grows to womanhood, what is it that I want her to know about these holidays, these full and holy days. I want her to know that every day we embrace the Gospel is a holy day. A holiday worth celebrating. There is always a reason to give thanks even if that reason is hard found through tears.

Each year brings new seats filled and others left vacant. This year we will miss a grandfather, a hero and Christ follower, and we will welcome a little girl with two teeth, no hair and smiles to share. It is the give and take of the years. We will celebrate and mourn and find that the two can coexist for those who love God. We will remember that grace and pain are reliant on one another. That Jesus gave grace with His own life.

Our thanks is loaded with meaning when it flows from a heart that isn't always grateful.
It is beauty the same as grace covering people who lack grace. 
I freely admit that my heart is not always grateful and grace is not often on my tongue.

I struggle each day to find the thousand gifts that line our lives. I often overlook them. They often get stuck in the corners of life between busyness and my own life-isn't-fair attitude. These fleeting days that pack the last months of our year are a chance to reclaim thanksgiving in our hearts. A chance to put the year in perspective and remember that great things come from little. A young girl. A miracle.  A baby. A Savior. They are an opportunity to take back the stolen joy from hard years, and up all nights and too much suffering in a world gone mad.

We are the Easter people year round, but in these months, for a few moments we can be the Easter children wide-eyed with wonder and gratitude over so much given and a King come to redeem it all.