…is one of the primary reasons that Christmas is my favorite time of year. It is through this time of preparation—looking forward—that I become alive to the bits and pieces that surround me and am led into a new appreciation of these multitudes, large and small. And although similar kinds of feelings spring to life as the year rolls along, they are—somehow—heightened in December, because I am forced to wait for that something that is understood and yet always a surprise…
For most of us, these feelings start when we were children, dreaming dreams—as the lights go up and music plays. But some, perhaps many, lose their grasp on these feelings as the years press in on them. A few have never been invited to share this mystery at all. A mystery that is less about knowing and more about giving in to our imagination. I grieve for their loss, those individuals who have not or do not know these realities. I also feel my own loss when I remember the many heralds who came to me in this time of year, those who walked along side to teach me this anticipation/hope philosophy. So I bless them and I act.
Expressing gratitude, appreciating, while continuing in anticipation, is a large part of the reason I write. That story seems to be involved in most of what comes to mind—and more than any one person, event, sport, item, state of being—it is story that drives me along.
Opening a wax pack of baseball cards is always…filled with hope. Here is a bit more of the yet to be published that illustrates…
Anticipation. That’s what made him feel alive.
Holding the bundle in his hand, he let his expectations linger while he hoped. Then, savoring the moment, he grasped the package a little tighter and lifted it close as he tried to see what was inside without removing any of the shiny wax wrapping, nudging his finger into the tucks and folds. It was a total sensory experience. He looked and felt and poked, letting the sweet pink smell emanating from the parcel fill his nostrils.
At this point in his life, he could afford to buy hundreds of these packets—but that wouldn’t be the same. One chance made the moment richer and the payoff much more satisfying. That special blessing that arrives when good fortune comes your way was in there somewhere, too—and having a moment to dream. He listened to the wrapping burst when he broke the wax seal and heard that familiar crackle as he carefully folded back the corners. Eyes wide open, senses alive, taste buds dripping at the prospect of the sweet chew to come.
The moment of truth had arrived. Pete turned the pile over.