Dad At The Christmas Fair
Our hour long drive from sea level to four-thousand feet lulled my youngest to sleep. It was odd for our otherwise hyper and goofy muchacho.
When we pulled into the dirt lot of “Christmas Camp”—a Christian family camp converted into a wintry, holiday wonderland, we had trouble waking the boy.
Finally he came too, realized how bitterly cold it was outdoors, then proceeded to throw up. We were not off to a good start.
My wife and my eldest went on ahead, while me and little bro stayed in the warm car, letting his stomach settle. Part of me was ready to turn around and drive home then and there. I’ll admit, I’m not entirely excitable for all the Christmas fairs, walkabouts, and what have you.
I haven’t been for most of my adult life. Christmas is kind of a blue time for me. It’s opposite of my youth, when I was both Jingle-All-The-Way, and a pious Catholic boy who knew the hymns (and carols!) by heart.
In short, I have to search with all my might for the Christmas spirit these days.
After little bro felt better, we walked into the all-outdoor fair nestled in the woods, which included hot cider and cocoa stations, sweet shops, food stands, trees covered in lights that twinkled in unison to the endless holiday music. There was even a water spray show. Those Christians really know what they’re doing when it comes to packaging up the spirit.
None of it drew me in, except the fire pits. About eight fires lined a walkway leading to a stage and food stand. It was there, in front of the fires that I wanted to stay.
With my son still somewhat subdued, he was fine with it, too.
Watching the fire and feeling its warmth was the only place I felt truly comfortable and at peace, not to mention warm.
And it was there that is struck me: if you remove all the artificial Christmas flair, all the commercial fanfare, all the recycled mythology, you’re left with the everlasting light. What remains is the fire from nature, the light of hope for humanity.
At that fair, the fire was the only real thing for me, and that’s why I didn’t want to leave it. The rest was artificial. Once I had stripped away the fake, I was reconnected back to nature. That was the spirit I was looking for—the one that harkens to the source, and not to herald angels.
Because after all, the only angels that exist are those within us. When we tap into the infinite wonder of real life—nature—we are able to summon our angels. We’re able to silence our hearts and clear our minds. That’s the holiday I want.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Flickr
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