Sunday, December 2, 2018

Christmas Letter 2018




Christmas 2018

Have you ever fallen asleep while laying in the middle of a parking lot at midnight gazing up at the Milky Way?

Underneath your beach towel, the asphalt is still warm from the day, but the evening air is cool after the heat of the afternoon.  Crickets and frogs and owls serenade you from the edge of the surrounding forest as the stars slowly brighten before your eyes.  The Big Dipper comes into view. Orion’s Belt. There’s the Little Dipper and Polaris.  Could that be Venus, or is it Mars?  Is that a shooting star or a satellite? 

And as you lay there next to the four people who mean more to you than anything else in the world, with no cell phone service or television to distract you, you begin to contemplate the glory of creation, to think about how very infinitesimal you are in this incredibly infinite universe.  You realize that what matters most is right here and right now with these people in this place.  You feel connected to all of the hundreds of millions of people who have looked up at these very same stars for millennia, and you let the stress of 21st century life slip away. 

You talk a little, not much though.  Nothing more than, “Did you see that shooting star?” or, “Look!  There’s the Seven Sisters constellation!” or simply, “Oh wow!”  The time between words spreads out until all you hear are the sounds of the night and the slow, quiet breathing of those around you.

And then time stands still, and the sky becomes one with the asphalt, and you are floating, falling, connected to those four people by an invisible, unbreakable cord that reaches out beyond you, and connects you to everyone who has ever gazed at the night sky in wonder, and those who will someday do the same.  And you feel yourself letting go, and peace washes over you.

At some point, you realize you’re all sleeping in the parking lot of Mammoth Cave National Park, and it’s well after midnight, and you should probably get up and go to your cabin so you don’t get run over by some late-arriving RV.  But you don’t want to break the spell of being surrounded by the people you love, so you linger a little bit longer while everyone else sleeps, drinking in the miracle that is this life, this place, these people.  And all you feel is love.

That is what I wish for you this holiday season…wonder and peace and love.

Merry Christmas!




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