Christmas Eve

Late afternoon. Spent the day– how? Many naps, much reading, much listening to Christmas music, a few errands.

The final truth is that the conception of God as a baby in our arms--vulnerable, wholly dependent for a moment on us as we are on Him– is profound almost past contemplation. It rises from the calamities of bad religion like a tree in the forest, gowned in starlight and snow, pure. For one night we are at our best.