The turkey is picked clean. The bowls of leftovers are paying their dues in the fridge. There is one piece of pumpkin pie left, missing part of its crust and looking a little wilted. The feast we know as Thanksgiving is over. And we now turn our thankful hearts to Christmas.

Wonderful season. Opening the stored boxes of ornaments amounts to cherished ceremony. For 11 months, these glittery orbs have slept in plastic trays. Now, we awaken them and they reflect our joy as they glow on evergreen branches.
A few are sacrificed to eager little hands each Christmas — but their lives are given in such a spirit of joy that there is little sadness.
Some are hung in awkward places, but such beauty is theirs that they shine anyway. No hidden branch can dim their purpose.
Others live a long life, coming out to bless the tree Christmas after Christmas. They have seen children become parents, parents become grandparents, and the household become fuller through the years. They are old, have gained the respect entitled an antique. The newer ornaments are in awe of their classic grace.
Such is the spirit of Christmas. It does not die during the green of spring and heat of summer. It only sleeps, taking rest, gaining strength so it may awaken with brilliant color when December calls.
The joy of soul that nourishes the Christmas season all year through is the hope that became ours one chilly night when a Baby slept in a virgin’s arms. Because of Him, the tinsel of our celebrations can reflect a bit of the splendor that Heaven lent to earth the night the angels sang.

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