We finally did it. January 18th and the tree, ornaments, wreaths and garland are all safely tucked in the attic for another eleven-ish months. And suddenly our home feels so empty.
The walls festooned with greenery adorned with red ribbon have returned to their bland renter's white. The corner of our living room once brightly lit with tiny white bulbs, surrounded by various hanging knick-knacks telling the memories belonging to our small family of four, has dissipated into vacancy.
The Christmas carols are stowed in boxes and most images of the swaddled infant are wrapped in tissue.
I remain grateful that the joy of my heart is not found in a stocking or a jingle bell, but in the everlasting peace of my God - found not in a manger but in my own being - in my faith in our Creator and His abounding love for me.
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