It's Christmas Eve.
This is the first Christmas that I've celebrated with my family in Rochester, NY. Last year we still went back to Lewisberry, PA. So new things. New ways of celebrating old traditions. Dad and I made our usual peanut butter blossoms, but we made them in a different kitchen with different equipment. For as long as I can remember, we've had a different family over for dinner or desert on Christmas Eve. We tried again this year, but were unsuccessful in finding someone who was available (and whose family would fit in our small apartment)!
The moments are precious for me. This is the last Christmas that I will celebrate as a member of my parents household. Next Christmas Belinda and I will be starting our own traditions. There is a bittersweetness to it, like closing the back cover of a great story, but knowing the sequel is waiting at the library, fresh off the press.
And in the midst of all this, I am full of joy and awe at the birth of Jesus Christ. The Great Light has come into the world! The Author wrote his own name into his story.