My 3 year-old daughter sat perched in her car seat as I drove my truck along the quiet country highway.  She chattered to herself and my thoughts slipped to a place far away, a place that had become like a dim, lurking monster.  I wondered how long it would be a threat, and how many more of our own would fall prey to its insane terror. 

It didn’t feel like December 1^st, and I thought of how dim this holiday would be.  I mused that perhaps people wouldn’t put up their lights as always.  In fact, there didn’t seem to beany up at all.  I hadn’t given much thought to holiday celebrations, everything seemed quiet, low key – and the spiraling economy only added to my dampened spirit.

 My broodings were abruptly brought to a squealing halt as we turned off the highway and onto the main street of a quaint New Hampshire town. 

“Looook Mama, Looook! The lights! OHHH! Can we get some of those?!”

Her enthusiasm should have broken my windshield; her shrieks reached to upper registers only heard by dogs. Her reveries would silence as she peered ahead, waiting for the next glimpse of glittering sparkles and then, once spotted, her cheers would resound through the cab.  

It continued on – each window, tree, bedecked reindeer eliciting pure happiness, joyful exclamations, and sounding claps.  I joined in, laughing and filled with incredible joy.   I realized then and there that it is impossible to be glum when you are in the company of a three-year old who is experiencing Christmas lights. 

This is the season that came with a promise and a hope, I thought, and in the quiet moments between the lights, I decided to hold my friends and family a little tighter this season and greet Christmas morning with great hope.  And I promised myself that if my thoughts ever started a downward spiral, I’d bundle her into the truck and we’d go look for lights.