Two Christmases are deeply and indelibly etched in my memories:
The Christmas of 2005 was my father's first Christmas in the nursing home. Hard to believe ten years have passed. That experience transformed the meaning of Christmas for me for the rest of my life (and it remains a challenge to be so changed when no one around me feels the way I do).
The Christmas of 2013 was spoiled by the clearcutting of the woods right beside our home. I will never forget the sound of the machine working at five o'clock Christmas morning and the bright lights shining into our bedroom. Ruthless, thoughtless and greedy, those are the nicest words I have for those days of heartbreak and the the following two months of tree-slaughtering hell.
This year, as I provide pulpit supply for Trinity United Church in Oxford and River Philip/Collingwood United Churches, I've spoken about that Christmas in the nursing home in my Advent messages.
Then this morning, I received some good news as I returned from a walk with Abby: The woods are going to be replanted next spring.
I met the two young men who were surveying the acreage early this morning and it was more of a shot of happiness than the mug of coffee awaiting me at home.
"If it wouldn't be really weird for you, I'd give you a big hug for giving me this news today," I told the two boys as Abby danced around their legs.
All is calm, all is bright.
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