I sat in the lovely old hall, listening to a hundred people sing about the meaning of Christmas. And it was beautiful, and their hearts were singing as well as their voices. But my back hurt, and I kept yawning, and I asked myself with a long weariness what Christmas really meant to me, why I was there that evening, what my own heart would sing if I stood up infront of the world and shared my true love.
And then, out of nowhere, a deep peace came upon me. My spirit stirred, sensing something I could not see. Nothing had changed in the room. And the coloured glass windows blocked any view of outside. But I knew, knew for sure, felt it where truth lives inside my heart - rain had begun falling. And night was uprising like a wild and quiet sigh of the needful earth.
Night rain. My heart sang. And that was when I understood the meaning of Christmas.
Christmas means home. For some people, heaven is home. For others, family is home. For others, it's food, or beach sunshine, or snow. Home is whatever forms our foundation of love.
This and every Christmas, I wish for you the joy and comfort of home, whatever form it takes for you. I wish for you that love.