It’ll be Christmas Day in another 37-minutes.
No carols playing. It’s quiet and all through the house…not a creature is stirring, but for some reason I felt led to write you this note.
You are not one of the thousands of people who’ve been shopping.
You didn’t wade through an airport or fill up the gas tank to drive over the river and through the woods to go anywhere. You may have even volunteered to take an extra shift…it’s only Christmas. It’s only you.
In a galaxy far away in a land I remember well, you were me.
And for whatever reason, I felt led to write you a note tonight.
I don’t know which is worse? Being alone because someone you love isn’t here anymore or knowing there are people who ought to be the ones who love you, but don’t…and you’re not there. But it does get better.
For what it’s worth, there was one Christmas Eve when I thought there wasn’t anything else.
I was alone in a tiny little studio apartment that was now mine, sparsely populated with furniture that wasn’t.
The clock radio next to my Murphy bed clicked over to midnight. As I sat on the edge of the bed, I heard myself whisper, “Merry Christmas, you”.
For reasons I still don’t understand, I felt the urge to break the silence and leaned over to turn on some noise, only to hear the opening strains of some music I’d known for as long as I could remember, but had forgotten.
It was most unexpected. That station didn’t play music like this. But like an old friend, I felt it sneak past and begin filling me with an overwhelming sense that everything was going to be alright. And it was.
Tonight I remembered that song. And as wild as it sounds, I thought of you.
Since that silent night, I have found love, peace and a freedom I didn’t ever think was possible. And everything that’s happened since all began the moment I unclenched my fists and let that sound wash over me, if only for a moment, slowly opening my palms as if they had a mind of their own.
I received my gift.
All sorts of fancy choirs have performed it. But tonight, I bring you another version that found ordinary people and gave them presents that none of them were expecting either.
You are not alone. You’re reading this right now aren’t you. I thought you might be there.
I’m glad. Click play and travel with me for a few minutes more.
I was shooting to hit publish at a minute after midnight. Now it’s 11 minutes after. I’m late. But loves timing is different. It’s never late. It’s always the perfect gift, except that it opens you. Enjoy your present. Hope you like it.
Merry Christmas, you.
— ## —