Christmas Meditations

Early Morning

Christmas Meditations

It’s too early to be late;

And it’s too late to go back to bed.

I look outside and down the hill.

Even the highway is silent, black.

I’m awake.

So I tiptoe through the house,

Turn on all the Christmas lights

And sit in front of them,

Cuddle under a blanket,

Childlike.

We have a new tree topper

Made of branches and vines.

It’s rustic and simple and warm,   

Not quite spectacular.

A star.

It reminds me of the honesty

Of that first Christmas night:

Tired mama, desperate daddy

Young, overwhelmed, uncertain,

Afraid.

Unfamiliar countryside,

Bustling people, pushing, loud

Mama begins to cry,

Daddy sees a hostel and calls out to

The innkeeper.

I don’t know if it was a cave,

Maybe it was a just a house

Where people and animals slept

But I know there was no room

For a baby.

Not even for a little tiny person

From the house and lineage of David,

Not even for a baby whose name

Was God with Us, Messiah,

Jesus.

How can a person be at once so tiny,

Be so kingly, so qualified, still so common,

The joy of peasant parents,

Meant to carry the destiny of the world

On His shoulders?

Before He was birthed in Bethlehem,

Before time, when he was I AM,

His days were allotted, chosen, assigned.

He would be misunderstood, unjustly accused,

Crucified.

A heavenly baby wrapped in humanity,

Baby with a burden of knowledge,

Born with a mission, a purpose.

Was there ever a moment

Of innocence?

I look again at the star

Resting atop our tree.

Lowly symbol, humble beginning

Baby now exalted, God of the universe.

Savior.

All our toys, our paper and bows and noise,

The self-gratification, intolerance,

Willful, selfish focus, the expectation,

Oh, God, forgive us.

How could we?

So great a sacrifice ignored,

Humble beginnings exploited

God of creation abandoned

Gift of life pushed away,

Shunned.

God forgive us our failures,

Make our unwilling minds remember,

Our selfish hearts repent.

Empty us, so you can fill us with

Your love.

It’s still too early to be late;

And It’s too late to go back to bed.

I look at our tree topper, our star.

My heart sings with joy. I am alive.

I’m awake.

--Dory Oda