My children have come home with their families for Christmas. Once again our house is filled with bustle and energy. The rafters are brimming with noise; squeals of joy, decibels of laughter, and an occasional short-lived squabble between grandchildren. There is a contagious energy of playfulness in the air. And though we are not a perfect family by any means, we share a love that is larger than even these sturdy walls can hold.
My mom used to tell us that when we would come to visit, her house would smile. At the time, I thought I understood the saying to be a cute way of expressing her joy in seeing us. But now I understand it to be so much more.
We crank up the old music box and listen to its gentle rendition of Silent Night. The Christmas story is read aloud by the two oldest grandchildren and I can’t help but to think of the many loved ones who I have heard read those same words through the years. Their voices flood my memory. I swallow back tears.
Little hands reach beneath the Christmas tree for the first present to be opened—the best gift of all—baby Jesus. He is unwrapped and placed in the Nativity scene with Mary and Joseph. We all pause, letting the moment linger until it becomes clear that the kiddos are bursting with anticipation and excitement over the remaining gifts under the tree.
Warmth envelopes the evening. Gifts of love. Surprises. Unbridled hugs. A few too many sweets—but it’s Christmas, so we enjoy. And words of gratefulness seem far too small.
As nighttime settles in over our home in the woods, I think about everyone nestled in bed. Little ones snuggling their stuffed animals, older ones tucked in with fleece to their noses. My own two daughters, now grown into beautiful women lying next to husbands who hold their hearts and who have been grafted into mine as sons.
These hushed night hours are sacred. A deep fullness has settled into my soul, knowing that such precious ones all rest safely under this roof. This is when a house smiles. When love has filled every corner and crevice and all that’s left to do is bask in the gift of its presence. I want to pause time and make it last. But I can’t fight the tug of sleep and the reality is that the day will come to a close as I shut my eyes.
Still, in spite of the snow and frigid temperatures outside, I will rest warmly knowing that within these walls are the glowing embers of contentment and the love of family.