She rises early while the household is still sleeping. Only the cat stirs as she makes her way downstairs aware of the winter chill. He is hungry and meowing for food, so she pours dry chow in his bowl and gives him clean water to drink, then brews herself a cup of coffee.
Most everything is done and she smiles at the thought of it. Only cards are left to mail, but she's in no hurry since Christmas really hasn't arrived yet. Although the world outside speaks otherwise. The fa, la, las blaring from the radio and the garish lights and decorations that have been blinking off and on since before Thanksgiving have annoyed her. Yet, even now her own home dons evergreen and sparkle pausing only for her heart to catch up.
She still waits in longing and it is silence that draws her in. In the hush of the mid-December morning, cold and cloud-covered, she knows solace and peace and hope.
Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born.
She finds herself there in that precious moment, her soul kneeling in wonder and awe, pleading to a newborn King.
Born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold.
She marvels at the humility of it and shivers as each note of the Virgin's sweet lullaby gently casts joy upon the bitter frost.
In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God! to hear my prayer and grant my desires.
In that hour, that beautiful and blessed hour, Love knows us, listens to us and gives us what our souls need most.
She is not alone. She is united now at that hour and moment with those who have reached out to Him throughout the centuries and with those, too, who are yet to come. Together in the penetrating stillness of the eternal present that is God's time, not ours.
And so, for a moment, a tiny bit of the veil is lifted as she prays in earnest for a great grandmother she has never known.
