‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

Blog 1773 – 08.01.2020

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas


‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

As I have stated several times throughout my blogs, I like Elvis Presley’s song have often questioned, “Why Can’t Everyday Be Like Christmas?” Each one can indeed be if by a spirit of giving we make them so. Today I share a gift from Clement Clark Moore that he gave to children everywhere almost two hundred years ago, first published anonymously in 1823. He called the poem, A Visit From Saint Nick, but it came to be known as many poems are by its first line, ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas.

I personally find it no less incredible to believe in a short, heavy, red-suited elf going house to house all around the world distributing gifts to young and old than I do believing that the God of all creation chose to be born in a barn to act out a passion play as a gift to all who believe. I happen to sincerely believe that each of our lives is God living out his/her divine comedy through us.

I carry in my pocket as a constant reminder of who I believe myself and everyone else to be. It is a small quarter sized heart with words etched on both sides. One side reads, “Thank you for this day, Spirit.” And the other reads, “I am Holy, I am Whole.” If you are looking for God as the song says, “Till you find him in the mirror, you’ve got a long way to go.” Whether you are like Dorothy believing herself far far from home, or some other pilgrim trying to get back to heaven and home, after long searching you are most apt to find it was always inside you all along, this Shangri-la.

The promise is that someday we shall know even as we are known and I have a sneaky suspicion that that is what each one of these wondrous adventures of ours has always been about – a purposely forgetful god finding himself/herself over and over again in all the possible disguises and situations. As I say, this is as easy for me to believe and imagine as is A Visit From Saint Nick.

Happy August first, Everybody. Just 146 days till Christmas, but who is counting, besides all us kids, I mean?

Your friend and fellow traveler,

David White


Christmas In Dixie

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