Yet in Thy Dark Streets Shineth the Everlasting Light, the Hopes & Fears of All the Years are Met in Thee Tonight

I have always loved Christmas and everything about it.  I loved my dad bringing home the live Christmas tree tied on top of our old green Chevy, or whatever other used car we possessed.  I loved watching him place the tree before the large front living room window made of many large square panes of glass, then stringing the big multicolored bulbs used in the 50’s and 60’s around and round the Christmas tree, its fresh pine-smell filling our living room with a special Christmas-time incense. And Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite played on the big boxy record player where my mom had placed it, appropriate, and as familiar to our family’s Christmas enjoyment as was the arrival of the tree.

Then in the evening, while the entire family watched TV, I would many times just sit and gaze at the tree, at the lights, eventually randomly blinking off and on, once we could afford the special twinkling type.  It was a quiet time for me, even if the TV was on and the entire family sat on the once new now old red sofa, or lay on the bare hardwood floor with pillows and some small worn blankets borrowed from the bedrooms, watching TV, the colored lights from the Christmas tree reflecting upon the black and white TV screen.

Now that I am much older and all our daughters have gone from our home with families of their own, we have only artificial trees, a big one and a very small one, and we only bring out the bigger tree just about every other year, when one or two daughters and their families visit and stay with us for Christmas.  For in the other years, we visit them all in December for a Christmas time – Northern California, Missouri, and New York – with New York being the end stop of our Christmas tour, and the place where we stay for Christmas Day.  This year, we are doing our Christmas tour and looking forward to it.

Now even though we will not be at home much in December this year, we still wanted to decorate our home for Christmas.  So, one of the things I did this year in the family room was to use the small tree shown in the photo of this posting – a tree with little lights that change colors – a gift from my mother-in-law, who, as she moved up in years, liked to “give” things away to unclutter her home. I also added a string of colored lights upon the shelf, intertwining some of them upon the tree to create an even more colorful lighted display.

The tree makes a slight mechanical noise as the cycle of colors begins to repeat. And when I hear it, I think of my mother-in-law, who also heard this noise, as she had another one of these trees in her own home, which we inherited when she passed ten years ago, a few months after my own mom’s passing, a tree which we eventually passed on to our daughter in Northern California which she now uses to decorate her own home.

As I sat in my reading and praying recliner in the family room a few nights ago, my eyes came to focus on the little tree and it’s changing colors and gentle mechanical sound. Then after a time, and I realized anew how reluctant I have always been at night to turn off lights, especially the Christmas lights – on the Christmas tree, the strings of lights used to decorate the mantel piece inside, the icicle lights outside. And this because, yes, having the Christmas lights on made everything very Christmassy, but even more and deeper, the final act of pulling the plug or flicking off the switch, just ended the light – Christmas lights and other lights – the light that I have always focused on and enjoyed, which, when extinguished, allowed the darkness to settle in all around.

This is just the same way why I was always reluctant to leave the fire in our fireplace while there was still some flicker of flames, still a red glow within the final embers.  So, my first choice with the fire, if possible, was just to turn off some lights in the house, and sit before the fire, gazing at its diminishing flame, enjoying and taking in the final radiations of heat, the random crackle or pop of the dying embers, and the still red glow of the charcoal remains of the wood. And in my beholding, I eventually understood that I was also attempting in some inexplicable way to hold onto something I knew would soon be passing and end. But then at some point, I allowed the flame and heat to leave as it must, but with a reluctance always hued with a faint quiet sadness.

I have always been reluctant to leave light.  As a young child, I became fascinated with, and when sad, strangely comforted by watching the play of the late afternoon sun on the leaves of the apricot or plum trees in our backyard, gently soothed and in wonder of the dance of the living golden light upon the leaves moving to the slightest of breezes, entranced for a time, then sad again as the afternoon light began to fade and dim. Then, after a time, I stood up and went into our house before evening descended upon the trees and me, a small young boy in an incomprehensibly large, looming world.  But in our home, there was light and the smell of dinner cooking, and that was good.

It was quite a number of years ago at Christmas, our daughters were still with us, that I sat late one night alone in the living room – as all were already in bed and perhaps it was Christmas Eve.  I was quietly listening to Christmas music – records on the record player, that’s how long ago it was.  As I sat and listened, I heard, “O little town of Bethlehem” which I had heard many times in the past, and even sang at church, but that evening I seemed to really hear the hymn, especially the verse, “yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light”. 

Then within my mind, there came the stark image of the ancient town of Bethlehem with its quiet midnight dark alleyways, and yet, within the settled darkness, there shown a brilliant but approachable and comforting light of hope, a brilliance not blinding but welcoming.  And I realized that the image of this shining this was the most profound reality of Christmas, for with the birth of Jesus, as the song continues, “the hopes and fears of all the years are met in the tonight”.  Now not a light which can or must be turned off and extinguished at some point after Christmas, but the Everlasting Light – of, and from, and who Jesus is – Jesus born the Light of the world at that first Christmas night.

As I said, I have always loved light and was always saddened by its passing, but during that one Christmas of my past, I more truly understood who and what the ultimate light of this world is, the Light that entered the world as a baby in an even more distant past, entering on the very first Christmas and now remaining the brilliant and unextinguishable shining for us, and with us, for eternity.  And as the gospel of Luke records:

Luke 2:8-14

8. In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night.  9. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened.  10. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; 11. for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” 13. And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

14 “Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.”

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Moments of Seeing & Occasional Pieces – Writing In The Shade Of Trees