To wake up on this day of the year brings me butterflies, quite frankly. I'm squeamish and giggly, shouting out of sheer joy and at almost every moment. Today is infused with traditions, old faces and the kind of belly laughs in which make you hurt later.  It is one of the purest forms of magic among this world.


There's an additional emotion attached to the unnecessarily youthful grins and massive chatter this time of year. It seems cliché to still have to say it, because when it comes to it, I think we all know that Christmas ' real meaning is when that little baby showed up and the whole world rocked! He was born and the world picked up handfuls of graciousness and a huge gaping sigh of relief. We're enjoying that as our celebration.


The goodness in our midst.

Between all of us, the holiness.

Between us, the elegance.

The FORGIVENESS of Him among us.


We celebrate the guy who every day rocks our flipping socks and shows himself in every heartbeat, every tragedy, in every growl of hate. He's always in the echo here with us. And if it weren't for him, there'd be no childish wonder this season, no excitement and anticipation, no love and genuine light, no giving and sharing and heart, and we'd all just sit down unwrapping open boxes covered with pretty paper. Because of that day these things take meaning. Traditions of festive socks and Christmas decorations, hot chocolate and story books, and awkward dance moves, giving presents and stuffing–the inexplicable feeling of Christmas spirit behind these things, the same one that tingles a little and actually makes us feel warm and cozy inside (you know that feeling)–that's Him.

He brings love and light and true magic and, like confetti, he throws them at us.


And I can't help thinking of how every Christmas Eve morning as I sit here in front of the Christmas tree wearing this goofy kindergarten grin, tapping my fingers so fast that they start moving on their own— that this day, this sensation, this grace we're washed in is all it takes to see the hurt head-on in the world. I look out my life's window and see it fall apart; all the pain and anxiety and bewilderment and I just want to wrap the world in a warm cozy blanket and tell it how much goodness there is inside. I know that's not so easy.


We're not able to change hearts. He's capable too, which is the good news. And while he's dealing with lightening loads, we can cover some ground for him by introducing better parts of who they are to people, parts they are not even aware of. Unbelievable things happen when we love without having a motive behind it.


So let us pack Christmas this year with feelings of joy and magic and carry it with us everywhere we go during this scary time in such a tiny world of ours. Let's show and tell off his light as irritating 2nd graders.


Let's leave people into less world uncertainty and more mystery about his love's purity.

Let's leave the people with his name stronger than ever. 


And one last appeal, while doing it, let's all wear fuzzy socks.


(Also, if that felt like it was super serious, please just remember that even a month before Christmas was wearing Christmas pajamas and matching fuzzy socks the entire time I wrote this.) 

Hi friends! It’s me Juilia..

I’m a writer of words so I like to tell myself. For the past 18 years I’ve been this thing called a work in progress. I love the way that sounds, like there’s never a wrong answer to being myself, or an end. I love fashion and anything to do with clothes, shoes, etc. I have an embarrassing affinity for elderly people and I should not know how many days there  are until Christmas in the middle of June - but alas, I always do. My main hobby is piecing things together. And God has these big hands for holding onto those pieces, and handing them to me when I’m ready for them. That’s what I’m doing here, piecing things together. Step by step. Just falling more and more in love with the strange, painful, and blindingly beautiful life. 

Sweeter than Candy Canes
by Juilia Hirsch

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