People decorated with outdoor lights, even way back when I was a little girl.  Big bulbs with green and red and orange and white and yellow.  Nothing blinked or looked like snowflakes or icicles or sang Christmas songs, or floated like giant snow globes.  Still, I loved it.

Sometimes the colors lit up the snow and made my eyes hurt the way sucking a lemon made my jaws ache, but at the same time I loved the taste and the way my mouth felt after sucking on a lemon.  I had to close my eyes and open them slowly for another peek at the lights before the pain hit me again, back there behind my eyes.  That’s the same way stained glass windows hurt my eyes.  All that bright color against a black night burned my brain.  As much as I loved the bright lights, my favorite was candle light the farmhouse had one single candle in each window of the house was my very favorite.  I wanted to live in a house like that.  For sure, that house was warm and cozy and full of happiness.

We never had Christmas lights outside, just inside on the tree.  Our house was drafty and often cold.  Still, we had lots of happiness and plenty of chaos.  Sometimes it’s hard to remember the chaos because the blessings block out everything else.

I went for a Christmas light hunt with my daughter and her five children.  Singing and chatter, wrestling and arguing, pointing and shouting.  A flood of nostalgia washed over me.  That’s when I remember that love is patient and love is kind.  Plus, love has a special kind of memory.  Mostly, I’m reminded that loves lights me up in a way that sometimes hurts so much I have to shut my eyes before I open them for another peek at all the brilliance.

I am clean and fresh again and ready for more.

Buscia: Body language of Love

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