Christmas is supposed to be special on so many different levels. I remember when I was a kid, my family would eagerly gather around the sacrosanct box that ensconced our artificial Christmas tree. But in my mind, it was magnificent--a glorious testament to the beauty of the season, and a symbol of family unity. We put up the tree together as a family and we opened the gifts underneath together as a family. Christmas was a special time of togetherness. I remember sitting on the sofa and gazing at the tree all aglow--casting its motley hues across the living room--and listening to the incessant gentle chirp of a bird emanate from my favourite ornament. I know it used to bug my brother (whose room was adjacent to the living room) but that never stopped me. This was Christmas, the one time of the year he'd have to put up with a bird chirping in the living room. The Christmas tree, along with the chirping bird, acted as a beacon; it called those who saw it into an ever-festive parallel universe that displaced routine life and its banality: School ceased, there were presents, there were Christmas concerts and church functions, there were potlucks and grandiose feasts. Christmas was a special time to just get away from mundane life and be joyous. And of course, there is the part that has little to do with Christmas trees at all. It is the religious significance: the acknowledgement of God's mercy towards His people embodied in the birth of Christ. I always thought Christmas cards pointing this out were cheesy but understood the important role they played. Forget Santa and his elves; let's contemplate the nativity and God's intricate and miraculous providence. Christmas was a special time to celebrate God's love.

This year, to me it seemed Christmas never really came.

I received the best Christmas gifts from family I've ever gotten in my life, I had my Christmas dinner, and I listened to carols at work over the radio. But something just seemed to be missing. It probably didn't help that I was at work. Or that I had been conditioned to dislike anything associated with Christmas music. But don't cry for me: I know Christmas will come again someday for me--perhaps not next year, or even the year after. But as long as there are family, joy and occasion to rejoice in God's provision, there is a chance Christmas will come. And I know these things will always be here.