Dec 27, 2012

Let it be Christmas, everywhere

Since I live in Canada, I know first hand what the lyricist is talking about when they proclaim to be "dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the one's [they] used to know." Each year, sometime around November 12 (well, exactly November 12.. I have a spoken rule in my life that declares I am not permitted to think of Christmas or snow until Remembrance Day has been observed) I break out the Christmas tunes, and the visions of sugar plum fairies begin dancing around in my head. Unfortunately, this also means that my obsession with snow takes a front row seat in the life and times of winter me. And winter me is a happy me.

So when December 20 rolled around and the Mayan apocalypse was looming over my Christmas cheer, I couldn't believe my luck. Could it be? Could we really have a white Christmas? Or would my white Christmas turn green and leave me blue as I spent another year being foiled by Global Warming's cruel sense of humour. 

Sugar plum fairies turned to snow fairies, and my mind began drifting off into hypothetical snowbanks. I wanted my world to transform into the White Witch's castle in the Chronicles of Narnia. I wanted to wake up to a world glistening white and clean and magical. 

Now, while we are being honest, this is pretty much what I see when there is snow. One flake turns me into a five year old kid down the Barbie aisle of the local Walmart. I go beserk. I watch out windows with Vanilla Earl Grey tea in my oversized Mickey Mouse mug (which shouldn't surprise anyone) for hours. I dig out mittens and coats and boots and walk around in it once it accumulates. I take pictures and immortalize every snowscape, visually hanging them in the gallery of my mind. And, when I am really giddy, I go in for the ultimate: I stick my tongue out and hope to capture a few flakes.

Imagine my delight when, on Christmas morning, my hometown awoke to a white world. Fresh snow glittered in the morning sun. I am sure that if Christ hadn't been born in Bethlehem, the Nativity scene would absolutely have snow. Because for me, the glory of the Lord shines through each snowflake - unique, complex, magical. 

And so I dream of white Christmases. I think it is because when I look at snow, and see the world transforming from bleak and dirty into pure and white, Frost's ministry whisks my heart away and I hear the angels proclaiming 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth; peace and goodwill to men.' In fact, I see snow and I hear this: 

Sometimes I can be such a romantic. 

Speaking of romance, check out the [my] piano. 

I guess I am thankful that the Mayan apocalypse didn't get in the way of my favourite holiday. I am also pretty thankful that Global Warming kept her cruel sense of humour away from me this year. I don't think my inner kid-in-the-Barbie-aisle-of-Walmart could have managed another green Christmas. I might have ended up singing Elvis Presley's Blue Christmas to the snow, and that would have been awkward and terrible for everyone. 

It's lovely weather...

May you and yours be blessed this Christmas season. 

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