There’s nothing quite like a clear cold winter night out in the country. My hand stretched out one step in front of me is blanketed by velvety darkness. The dark is so dark that it is like a separate present companion, not just a state of atmosphere.

Christmas Eve conjures up stories of unique experiences whether warm fuzzy family traditions or hollow disappointments. I’ll share a childhood story that encompasses both.

I heard, really heard for the first time the words of a familiar Christmas Carol, “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem.” The specific words which grabbed my attention were, “Our hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”

My emotions are like the cumbersome metronome swinging predictably from one weighted side to the other on the top of our ancient upright childhood piano. Back and forth, back and forth it swings. I’ve allowed my holiday mood to be dictated by whatever the most recently received crackling ethernet message is. I should instead give the myriad, joyful, effervescent family stories the permission to bubble up and sparkle my holiday consciousness.