Blessed
A Christmas Narrative
Blessed. A simple word that wraps up my entire life like a Christmas present. It begins with the shuffling of fuzzy socked feet, with the creeeaaaking open of doors, and small moonbeams of light streaming from room to hall. My brother, sister, and I eagerly await Christmas morning.
My brother, Joshua, the stubborn, curious, early-riser, ignores my parents’ pleas from the night before, and begins his journey down the long stretch of carpeted stairs. They seem to go on forever and ever, because his guilt takes hold of him. He knows he should wait until we all awake from slumber before clambering down to view the gifts. I heard his faint noise from my room, and I now watch patiently from behind my door, ready to tattle at any moment if he dares to glance under the tree before the rest of us. My twin sister, Jennifer, the drama queen and bunk-bed-buddy, motions for me to come back to sleep a little longer. She promises Santa left me wonderful things that will still remain in the exact same spot an hour or two from now. When I do not crawl back to bed, she climbs down her ladder from the top bunk and attempts to drag me back herself. Reluctantly I follow her, just as I notice my brother race back up the stairs, afraid to go any further and disobey my parents’ wishes. We can hardly contain our excitement for what the next day will bring- a big breakfast, presents galore, and loads of happiness.
A few hours later the sun dully slides her way up the faded grey sky. With the awakening of the sun comes the awakening of children. We all skip and leap our way down the hall and into our parents’ king size bed. “Merry Christmas!” We shout as we bounce on top of them. Our dog, jolted from sleep, nervously yaps about the room until my dad scoops her up and throws her onto the pile of bodies on top of the bed. We all hug and kiss and smile and laugh, excited for a day of giving and receiving, a day of love and celebration, a day of incredible news from Jesus’ birth many years ago, and a day of blessings. I count all of my gifts silently to myself, noticing how very few have to do with the presents beneath the tree that await. I already have all I could ask for and more. I truly am blessed.
