The Light that never dies

My most treasured memory of Christmas as a kid?

No contest. Incandescent Christmas lights. Really. No kidding. The kind of lights that burned hot enough to take the skin off your fingers, broke into a million sharp pices when you dropped them, and were generally made obsolete somewhere around 1979. We had 'em when I was a kid. Lots of 'em, in all different colors strung around our Christmas tree, and I would not have wanted it any other way.

My most treasured childhood Christmas memory is sitting in the living room of the house I grew up in, the lights in the house turned off, completely immersed in the warm glow of our Christmas tree. There was just something in the combination of those lights on that tree that created an amazing, vivid memory that makes me smile even now.

The light from our Christmas tree surrounded you like a warm blanket on a cold night. That light completely filled the room with the spirit of the season. It was comforting, vibrant, festive, calming and alive all at the same time. If you could see the smell of Christmas cookies in the oven, it would be that light. If you could see the sound of of a choir, it would be that light. Sitting in that room, looking at that tree, feeling its light - you could close your eyes, reach out, and touch the face of Christmas.

In the light of our tree, the world was a peaceful place full of wonder and promise. In the light of our tree, every story had a happy ending. In the light of our tree you were home. In the light of our tree you were safe. In the Light of our Tree, there were no worries and no troubles.

Time marches on, and now it falls to me to pass on the Light of our Tree to my children - to fill this house with the magic that I know is still out there many years after the Tree saw its last Christmas and the Lights went out forever.

Today I put the Christmas lights up along the eave of our house. These are the real deal. Hot, incandescent lamps screwed into actual sockets, sucking down 19-cent-per-kilowatthour electricity like its going out of style. Not very stylish by today's standards, and certainly not at all practical. I know I should probably go get some new lights, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm not sure why.

So there they sit, our legion of multi-colored Christmas angels burning warmly in the winter night.

My little ones look out the window, enchanted by the glow. They laugh as they point out the different colors. They sit silently and stare for a few moments, smiles getting larger by the second. It is quiet. Only the Christmas lights illuminate the room from outside. At that moment I see it in the eyes of my oldest daughter. I see it in the smile of her little sister. I smile too. I can't help it.

Its here.

This is the Light of our Tree. The Light that never dies.