What does it mean when you've watched two Christmas movies and cried during both and it's only December 5th? I've asked this question of myself over the course of a couple of hours and I'm not sure I can make any sensible explanation of it. Or maybe I don't want to believe the explanations I have come up with. Maybe we can blame it on my age. Maybe my mid-life crisis includes the epiphany that I'm getting closer to the age my parents were when I thought they had it all figured out. And, well, I don't have it all figured out. I'm in my forties and my kids are growing and I love my family and I miss my mom and my Dad is getting older and slowing down and I'm realizing over and over again that people need people and that's the whole point of this thing called life. Oh yes, and time is fleeting. Then the music of The Family Stone or the wisdom shared in Love, the Coopers comes onto the screen and tears come. Mostly they are happy tears. Tears that, gosh, I've been able to learn lessons, one after another, through the good of the people around me and the God up above. Over and over again, I hear that life happens and we've got the sources of help we need to get through it. That sentence scares and comforts me all at the same time to create one complex feeling that I'm not sure what to do with. So I watch Christmas movies and then all is well with the world.
It's that magic that's created when a child, who really, truly believes looks into the eyes of a Santa Claus with a real beard. This happened about two days ago with Elsie, the girl who can spot a fake Santa with precision. We went to a tree lighting that included band music. Oliver played (very wonderfully I may add) and then the tree lit up and Santa made an appearance. Elsie asked if we could say hello to Santa. She waited to meet him. We watched as other kiddos stood next to him to get photos. Then it was Elsie's turn. She stepped up to Santa who said, "Hello little girl!" and Elsie said nothing. She just stood there for what seemed a little too long, looking into Santa's eyes with wonder. Checking his clothes, his beard, his smile. She determined they were authentic. She couldn't believe it. Magic. Wonder. Goodness.
It's the magic that comes from your kids asking, "Can we shop for our surprise family member gift again this year?" Last year we chose names and then went to the mall to pick out gifts for one another. It became one of our more memorable Christmas activities. Its the age-old adage, kids may or may not remember what they got under the tree, but they sure remembered what they picked out and gave to someone else.
Now it's time for me to watch Elf or Home Alone or Home Alone 2 and even though they're comedies, I'll probably cry at some point. But the tears stem from happiness. The tears come from the magic of Christmas. The magic of everyday life really. Time is fleeting. Let magic be a part of it. And maybe some tears too.
