The advent wreath has successfully taken center-stage this Christmas season. If I were honest with myself, I'd have to admit it's because boys=cavemen=fire=good, but I rather like to think that these sweet cherubim I'm raising up in the way they should go are filling their hearts with the light of the Lord.
I did this last year, but as I seem to be holding their attention a bit better this year (fire! fire!) this ritual seems destined for the Holiday Traditon Top 10 List. Every day when I get the mail, we fish out the Christmas cards and put them next to the wreath on the dining room table. After we light the candles, say the daily prayer and tuck into our hot, nutritious, garden-fresh, hand-prepared food (come on, I've set the tone here, let me keep the fantasy flowing, ok?) we take turns opening the cards (ooh, goody, something else to have to tally) and read what's going on with the family involved. Once they're all opened, we pause a moment to pray for each family. (Tonight Bob was with us and said, "We pray for the cards...." which for some reason was hilarious but for all reasons, went against the point of what we were trying to accomplish with the prayer in the first place.)
It sounds like a sappy email, but there comes a point where you realize what and who matters and how who you are today has been in no small part shaped by the people you've known. I love getting Christmas cards, if for no other reason than it may be the only word I hear from some friends and family the whole year long. Now I feel that, by praying for them, specifically and by name, they are with me in my heart every day. As an added bonus, it gives me a far-too-rare chance to set a good prayer life example for my kids.
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