It’s early Christmas morning, and I can’t sleep. Of all the days in the year, this is the one that has not changed its affect upon me – whether I’m seven or thirty-four, doesn’t matter - there is something about this day.
I am spiraling in thought...
I have a wife and three children. My wife has written many chapters in the annuls of our family story, from travel and adventure, to tragedy and aporia. We have loved and fought each other for over ten years. Life without her would be unthinkable. My first born son is with God, along- side my deepest reflections. My second son is four and a half, and loves to issue rebuttals for any piece of information that did not originate from himself – his smile slays me. My daughter has bewitched me. She is a little more than a year old, yet humbles me with six months of screaming through the night, followed by a tiny hug.
It’s 2:30 Christmas morning, and yes I am awake. Now, I am the father placing the gifts under the tree, checking the house once and then twice over, after hearing bumps in the night.
A wonder if God is pleased with me? How could he be? I am not a good man. Then again, this morning is one that marks the beginning of an impossible reconciliation between humanity and God. All is silent in my house tonight, however, I believe there are detectable traces of exalting vibrations, ripping through time, first voiced by the angels of old, harmonizing with the universe “Glory to the new born king”. And grateful men and women reply "Truly-Truly"..."Amen and Amen".
i wanted to publish this even though it was written a while ago. matt is such an eloquent writer....i love him!