Frost is glistening on the grassy meadow as the ravens caw away at their morning ritual. The house is warm as the furnace blows the heated air from the vents. This day, dubbed Christmas hundreds of years ago has turned its eye upon us here in the southeast, prompting multitudes of celebrations from household to household. Some are flinging wrapping paper, others are testing out new bikes in the driveway, while some others are watching in wonder at how the families have grown. The so called “social” media has borne witness to others who complain of losses and the burdens of what has been and what is yet to come (sorrowfully). As this reluctant host to the ailment dubbed Parkinson’s Disease ponders his being, he can’t help but begin to unwrap the gifts, blessings, and or opportunities for giving thanks that flood his dopa-deprived mind! The blessing of family nearby that shares the victories of challenges nearly every day. The comfort of an engulfing and worn recliner whose seat renders reflection of the one to whom its embrace has molded. A warm and constantly shedding canine who has no clue that she is over seventy pounds as she climbs sometimes not so gracefully into the lap of one that she treats as part of her pack. The buzzing sounds of sleeping family for whose presence we are constantly raising praise. As each layer of the blessing for which we are grateful is gently uncovered, we are lifted to a higher place than the challenge of physical “limits” has gripped. Grace (unmerited favor) has been bountiful and its wonder is experienced in its truest form as we lift thanks to the One who is the giver and the gift. Merry Christmas!
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