Dreaming Of A White Christmas

About this time every year, I begin dreaming of a White Christmas.  It won't happen for me this year.  I'm spending December in the Arizona Desert.

There is something magical about waking up to freshly fallen snow that blankets the earth.  As the white covers over every object and space it brings a stillness of quiet.  I want to break out in Silent Night.  I think my fondness for a White Christmas began as a child, growing up in Arizona.

As we listened to Christmas stories each night, read by mom, it was hard to envision Santa's sleigh without snow.  We lived in a small town and occasionally snow fell, but never accumulated much.  Santa in a big, red winter suit, flying over cactus and palm trees with his eight reindeer, somehow seemed all wrong.

Before we went to bed that Christmas Eve, my sister Carolyn and I wished on a star that it would snow.  The excitement made it difficult to close our eyes.  It didn't help that every few minutes Carolyn would whisper, "did you hear that?  I think Santa is here, I heard reindeer hoofs."  Quickly, I'd roll off the bottom bunk bed, stand on my tip-toes in front of our small second story window and pull back the curtain to see if Santa was on a nearby rooftop.

We lived halfway up a hill.  A couple of doors down a streetlight shined.  The house next door was a single level, so I could see quite a ways down the street, peering at a lot of rooftops.  I scanned each one for that shadowy red figure and his sleigh.  Sometime after midnight, we must have fallen asleep, at least I did.

It was still dark when I awoke to Carolyn peering over the side of my bed.  Startled I sat up as best I could.  Still hanging upside down, my sister said excitedly, "Santa's here!"  I bounded out of bed again and pulled back the curtain.

I couldn't believe my eyes!  Everything was covered in thick, white fluff.  Against the soft glow of the street lamp, huge snowflakes were falling.  I'd never seen anything so beautiful in all my life.  I didn't even notice my sister had pulled herself out of bed this time and was standing next to me.  I forgot all about Santa.

I have no idea how long we stood watching the glistening flakes fall.  I silently thanked God for this wonderful gift. I look for His gift every year.

Truthfully,

Joanne

"Come now, and let us reason together,” Says the LORD, “Though your sins are like scarlet, They shall be as white as snow; Though they are red like crimson, They shall be as wool." (Is. 1:18)