We practiced snow-skidding around on the motorways, being stuck at a dead stop for hours, and then limping home thru a huge snow dump. Once close to home we enlisted two passing angels to push us up the last icy bit. We unpacked the car in the dark at the hill bottom and climbed our half-mile steep and icy hill, dragging our overnight bag behind us in the deep, new snow. We fell often, laughing at ourselves, on the 25 degree Foul Step Lane. A hot bath felt good once we collapsed in the front door of our flat.
Later in the night I was meditating on how Christmas makes shepherds of us all to the lost sheep lined up around us. I become aware also of how God’s last Lamb came, ironically, to shepherd us. He, in my busyness, becomes a forgotten Carol that the Father wants to sing to me. As I played “The Forgotten Christmas Carols” by Michael McLean (a 1991 classic), my eyes and heart fill with thanksgiving for His huge descent from his warm home to a far off speck on the edge of a minor galaxy to enact the drama of the Ages once again with a fresh batch of created rebels. My mind opens also to consider the current consensus of astronomers that technologically advanced civilizations probably exist on between a thousand and a million planets just in our little galaxy (Time, Dec 6, 2010, p. 6). I see Him peering down, wondering if and who and when each of his sheep will make a straight path toward Him even as He did toward us.
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