I sit, basking in the glow of the lights from my still-decorated Christmas tree. The ceiling is still a flutter with paper snowflakes and the cheerful song of the lighted dance hall in my Christmas village echoes through the house. Christmas should last longer. There should be more days snuggled in cozy pajamas, sipping hot cocoa, counting down the days until Santa comes. This year the anticipation in our house was palpable. Hayden woke each morning asking when Santa was coming. He eagerly searched the house to see what our elf, Christopher, had been doing while we slept. Most mornings he ran to our room yelling out "Mom! Dad! Come and look what Christopher's done!". There is no greater joy than seeing the twinkle of belief in a child's eyes. I consider the ability to believe one of the most important gifts I can give my children. They are going to need it in the days ahead. When the monotony of life takes over, I hope they'll dig deep, find that spirit, and remember what it was like to be so excited that they could hardly sleep. I hope they'll be able to connect with that feeling of expectation and remember to live their lives wide open and waiting.
Next week I'll repack boxes and take down lights. I'll tuck the houses from my Christmas village away and say goodbye to the colorful Christmas decor. I hope that I will take the anticipation and magic of this season with me into the new year. I hope I'll remember to believe even when things seem impossible.
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