This time of year takes me back to when I was a child. Very nieve, very sweet, totally vulnerable, unprepared for the world. I think back to those times because it was all pretty much smashed to bits a few years later.
My favorite Christmas piece that came out of a box was a wind-up nativity scene. It played music, and the 3 wise men went around in a circle, in and out of the stable. I used to sit and play with that thing and watch it, for a long time.
Another favorite thing were the bubble-ornaments, that heated up from the lights on the tree and started a bubbling fountain inside the ornament. They were quite something. As I remember, we had a snowman that also held some in his hands. They would light up and do the same thing. We had some ornaments that would spin around with the heat of the lights, as well.
For me, seeing the tree lit up with all the other lights turned off was a true joy. Almost better than presents.
I am thinking of getting a small Xmas tree with beautiful lights of all colors to put in my office this year, just because it is “my space” and I can do it if I want to. May even get a tiny little Nativity scene to sit on my desk. These are parts of my past, connections to the sparks of spirituality that carried me in faith into my future, when I became a Baha’i.
There was a night when I was in the kitchen drying dishes, next to my mom who was washing them. Without thinking, I found myself arranging all the dishes and cups on the table. My mother turned around suddenly and shouted, “What on EARTH are you DOING??” I looked at her, shocked, and then said, “This is Jesus here in the middle. All the cups and silverware are all the people listening to Him.”
My mind has always been imaginative, creative, trusting, nieve. Kind of always “out there” dreaming. I am all grown up now. But I like thinking of myself as that innocent little kid. My child spirit.
It seems strange that we would turn away from something that lasts eternal, and desire something that is doomed to perish. No one would do that if they could tell the difference. The eternal is a mystery that none can explain. It simply is what it is. And yet there is another part of our being that can appear to be the most reliable, can take over and keep us so busy that we keep the eternal part at bay. I think that anyone can feel that eternal part. It appears when one lights a candle and becomes lost in its beauty. It professes its existence in a sunrise or sunset, those times that in themselves are the bridge to another time. Darkness becomes morning, the sun later moves beyond our reach to another part of the world. There is a moment when time ceases to exist, when we are caught in between this stage and the next and are aware of the beauty of it.
Doctor Grandma 