terrypetersen

Look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory. (Betty Smith)

Kate rearranges my Christmas decorations on the windowsill as I prepare the table for cookie baking. Sure, I had items arranged according to size and balance. But her design tells a story. A porcelain figurine becomes a little girl opening a gift. The girl sits in front of a house. She has just finished making a snowman. The entire area is surrounded by angels. Kate takes a wreath that had been encircling a candle and places it on top of the house.

“See, Grandma, the people in the house decorated.”

I smile. The wreath is over half the height of the house. In real life this scene would either appear  on national news or a late-night comedy show. It’s hard to say. Nevertheless, the new arrangement will stay even if it is a tad top-heavy .

Then Kate moves to the manger scene on my breakfront. She picks up an unframed picture of my father in his World War II uniform, and pauses. I wonder what she is doing as she moves the three kings forward—long before the twelfth day of Christmas. The shepherd doesn’t seem to care. He waits, unconcerned.

Ah! The three kings have brought more than gold, frankincense and myrrh: they present a new arrival in the heavenly realm. In this picture he is a young man who had two jobs in World War II: company clerk and bomb disposal. He spoke many times of close calls, when he wondered why he had been chosen to come out alive.

Yet, he lived to be 91, long enough for his eight-year-old great granddaughter to decide that wise men would be willing to push ahead their celebration and appear for a special early visit. “Greetings! We have someone we want your newborn to recognize. His name is Bill, and he has lived a long and fruitful life.”

No, Kate didn’t add those words. She didn’t speak at all—didn’t need to say anything.  Her smile relayed the obvious. Love. It transcends language and opens the way to wisdom.