Today is solemn Sunday. That is what I call it. The Christmas excitation and anticipation has climaxed with a thunderous burst of exhaustion and is giving way to the haunting reflection of the passing of time as the spent year ends. It would be helpful for me to have a little more time to recover from the Christmas blitz before entering into the melancholy of New Year’s approach. The month of Christmas approaching is packed with anticipation and perpetration. Every day has a heavy “to do” list of decorations, shopping, wrapping, and cooking. Then our ten grandchildren collide. The impact sends trimmers throughout the house as floors vibrate and the AC labors to adjust to doors which do not seem to close on their own.
This Sunday morning is quiet. It’s just Jan and me in the house. The loudest noise is the tapping of the keyboard keys as I write. The refrigerator is packed with leftovers, and all the dishes are cleaned and stored. You might think all is well, but it isn’t. I’m reluctant to walk in the house barefoot for fear of my feet not being able to be released from the film of “fun” laid down “slime,” grime, slobber, sneezes, PB&J, chocolate, particles of everything we had to eat for three days, and all the stuff tracked in on the bottom of sneakers.
This is Solemn Sunday because Christmas with its joy has ended except for the restoration of regular decor, and a year is ending. What is curative of this solemnness is the faith that a new year is about to start, and it too will have a Christmas in it. Reflecting on the events of the past year brings anticipation that surely He who made last year so wonder-filled has also filled the coming year with even more wonders. It probably won’t be all “happy,” but it will be all wondrous. I was created as a receptacle of “wonder,” as were you. We must be vigilant in watching for it as well as intentional in gathering it up.
Photo – The 2019 Baldwin Christmas fireplace mantel.
Baldwin Heirlooms 