Over at Weaver's blog, she asked a question: 'How magical can we make Christmas for our own children, for our own family?'
My children are grown and gone now. When they were young, every Christmas morning began with me standing by a cracked door in my pajamas yelling "Ho Ho Ho" through a cardboard tube and then shutting the door quietly to listen to the sound of scampering feet and excited whispers. I did that at least a half hour before they were allowed to go downstairs because I wanted them to have that anticipatory time whispering back and forth to each other in the dark, listening to hear the clock strike six so that they could 'wake up' their parents and head downstairs to the tree.
It was a cherished memory from my own childhood. I wanted them to have it too.
But Weaver's comment struck me, and it stayed with me all day. I changed it up a bit in my thinking: 'How magical can I make Christmas for children?' I decided that it didn't even matter whether they were my own or not...furthermore, maybe they didn't even need to be children.
The possibilities are endless.
And to that end, I began to take a close look around me.
A small gaggle of brothers and sisters were mesmerized by a ceramic Christmas village display. Their mom took them to look at the displays and they loved that. I thought of my Christmas village, packed away, with the buildings and the people and the snow covered trees. Tim dropped that box off on their porch.
Pictures were posted as they unwrapped the newspapers from those pieces. The amazed looks on their faces? That was magic.
I have two other magic tricks up my sleeve.
I encourage you all to get out there and make some magic. Sprinkle it everywhere. Spread it with a heavy hand. No matter how much of it you give away, you're going to discover that you're bringing plenty of it back home with you.