December 2005

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I remember Christmas Eve.

I remember when Christmas Eve was doing the last-minute things with my mother, knowing we were doing them because it was our time to share, not because we couldn't have done them earlier.

I remember when Christmas Eve was Donna coming to our home for the three of us to have Christmas. Later on, that included Ronnie and later still, also Candace.

I remember when Christmas Eve was getting dressed up because I wanted to. And staying dressed up because I could.

I remember when Christmas Eve was going to church for a candlelight Communion service, and the one year when I had a chance to sing, under my breath and just for my mother, Adeste Fidelis in Latin, while the rest of the congregation sang in English. She knew it was a gift to her.

I remember when Christmas Eve was coming home from the candlelight service and playing probably every carol I could think of, just to keep the music going.

I remember Christmas Eve.

I know Christmas Eve.

I know Christmas Eve is different, but in many ways fulfilling.

I know Christmas Eve is music and joy and love.

I know Christmas Eve is holding my loved ones close in my heart, especially those going through rough patches.

I know Christmas Eve is being held in their hearts, too.

I know Christmas Eve.