Let Christmas Come!

“Christmas time is here . . .” croons the Peanuts gang, entreating us to take note of the “Beauty everywhere.” I smile and gaze at the sparkling tree that dances merrily before a picture window overlooking acres of gardens blanketed with pristine drifts of white. We don’t have to “dream” of a white Christmas here in Grass Valley . . . it has arrived in abundance this year.

Though we enjoy some measure of a white Christmas every year now, we have never become complacent about those first dancing flakes, for there was once a time when we only dreamed of it.

And then the dream came true . . .

I sit by the window and watch the sunlight dance across the brilliant landscape and fondly recall a time in years gone by when three-year-old Lydia, living in snow-free Felton, Ca, remarked with certainty that “Christmas cannot come until it snows.” We tried to educate her regarding the local weather patterns, which excluded any hope of snow for Christmas in our little coastal town. She staunchly refused to change her mind, declaring that it must snow before Christmas could arrive.

We racked our brains for a solution . . . maybe a dusting of snow would christen the distant mountains, as it does on occasion, and we could drive an hour or two to experience the wintry gift. Alas, no snow fell nearby; yet, Lydia’s snow queen dancing continued. Tension mounted as we hopelessly observed our fairy-like daughter clinging to her hopes of snow for Christmas.

A new baby served as our only Christmas present this particular year. Our glittering Christmas tree stood gift-free but beautiful nonetheless, swathed in a “snow-like” sheet at the base. It had been a HARD year . . . but we rejoiced in celebrating Jesus’ birthday with the arrival of our own baby born so near to Jesus’ birthday. Nobody requested anything more . . . except for Lydia who entertained newborn baby Rachel with enchanted notions of snowfall.

I quietly fretted . . . and prayed that there be no further disappointment in a year of incredible challenge. It had not been an easy year to endure and I felt unable to muster the strength to spend Christmas Eve consoling a weeping little one intent on seeing snow fall in a temperate beachside locale.

Christmas drew near. We baked the cookies, mulled the cider, and set the festive table many times as friends and family joined us in celebration. Smiles wreathed faces; hearts danced in merriment; all the while Lydia eagerly anticipated the coming snowfall so Christmas could really arrive.

In difficult times I have often clung to the hope set forth in 1 Peter 3:12:

For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous,
and his ears are open unto their prayers.

In the pit of my exhausted heart I forgot this promise . . .

My stomach churned as my mind raced with tactics to meet the forthcoming disappointment and tears.

BUT . . . the faith of a child melted the icy fingers of fear that gripped my doubtful heart. Lydia helped me remember God’s faithfulness as she sat at the window on Christmas Eve Day and calmly announced,

“There it is. It’s snowing. Now Christmas can come.”

With that simple declaration she hopped down from the sofa and danced over to inform Baby Rachel that all was well in the world of Christmas.

Tears sprang from my eyes as I turned in disbelief to catch sight of a mere handful of fluffy snowflakes cascading down from Heaven. If Gary hadn’t been in view I might have suspected him of standing on the rooftop with an ice cube in one hand and a cheese grater in the other . . . but clearly that was not the case. I watched as Daddy scooped up Lydia and took her outside to dance in the faith-filled snowflakes that called Christmas to Felton that year.

The whole town buzzed with delight over the unexpected snowfall . . . well, unexpected by all except one little girl who would not be separated from her faithful dream.

Each year as the first flakes of snow dance down from the skies, I pause and thank the Lord for that wonderful gift so long ago. It has been 11 years and Lydia retains no recollection of her faithful snow wish, but our family gained a new tradition that day. We have never forgotten our first “White Christmas” – a gift from our faithful three-year-old.

* * * * *

Every year, as the first snowfall commences, we dance and cheer,

“Now Christmas can come!”

As headlines blare of the cold front that has gripped our town, paralyzing all but the necessary travel . . . as snow drifts block doorways and driveways . . . as trees bow down with the weight of the wintry wardrobe . . . I smile a knowing smile, pray a joyful prayer, and wish everyone a wonder-filled Christmas.


From our house to yours:

Let go your doubts . . .
Let go your fears . . .
Open your heart . . .

Let Christmas Come!

Rachel at Play