Emma's hands tapped cold against my neck as she blew wet raspberries into my hair. An occassional peak behind me at the cute rosy cheeks and bundled baby in the backpack met me with baby girl giggles. In front of us, crunching through the snow, trecked Michael, Pops and Hyrum, lugging our freshly cut Christmas trees down the path. And way up in front, hurrying to get into the warm truck, Magaw and Jared walked--hand in hand, talking about snow, basketball, Santa's sleigh, and Little Mikey in Norway on his mission.
I looked up into the snowy white canyon, closed my eyes, listened to the rush of the river against its icy banks, and felt the tender mercies of the Lord all around me. Words--even the best words written in sweet poetic prose--fall short of describing the scene or my heart. Perhaps my yearning for time to stop for a while leads me to try to write it down. At least then I can visit the memory and savor it again and again.
I love this season--the anticipation of everything homey and exciting and yummy. I love the quiet times of twinkling lights and twilight, I love the loud times of excited little boys, I love the memories of childhood Christmases--full of dreams come true, I love the memories of growing- up Christmases--still full of magic with an added sweetness of testimony, I love the memories of a new love and promise of eternity at this season, I love the music, the lights, the events, the traditions. And especially I love my Savior--I am thankful for his humble birth which we now celebrate in grandeur and glory. Merry Christmas!