If not for the dog, I wouldn’t be walking this exposed beach in the rain. We used a snow covered trail through the old growth to get here, me sliding with each step in mushy snow. I should find the wet grayness out of keeping with the eve of Christmas. My Northern European soul longs for crisp whiteness on the birthday of our Lord. But the innate sadness of rain washing away the Christmas snow fits this day before believers celebrate Christ’s birth. His birth brought the hope and happiness symbolized by snow globes, carols, and Santa Claus. 

As if to encourage my musings, a glaucous-winged gull lifts off the beach, flies a few feet over the water, then uses her arched white-tipped wings to settle onto its surface. I see not a seabird but a child practicing for the angel’s part in the Christmas Play—the who gets to say, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” (Luke, Chapter 2, Verses 13-14)

Merry Christmas from Chicken Ridge