Last year my family and I traveled 30 minutes south from Jerome, Idaho, up into the mountains one evening just a few days before Christmas. We wanted to see what some call the Lights in the South Hills. Decorated with thousands of bulbs, one house and its front yard glows from Thanksgiving to New Years just off a quiet canyon road southeast of Twin Falls.
I’m sure there’s a home similar to it in your neighborhood. The home’s circle driveway creates the path for visitors to walk about. No cars are permitted inside.
The night we visited dozens of vans and SUVs had pulled off the snow-packed road leading up to the home. Many of the passengers walked a good distance, breathing frosty breath, to reach the entrance to the driveway. The elaborate lights strung from trees above stood out against the dark, clear mountain air, and at the same time the lit canopy cascaded a soft creamy glow that reflected off fresh snow and illuminated the many playful scenes below.
The photograph from our front cover is just one of many displays here. Each year the Nativity is placed near the end of the walking path and is the most serious scene on display. It surpasses the frivolity and fun and begs visitors to ask, “Why?” Why is it there at all? I would guess that for the past few years visitors have been caught up in the jovial excess and less-meaningful displays at this annual Christmas season event.
For sure, the whole idea of the refuge of light is to wow visitors with surplus and extravagance. I think this year will be different. Sure, there may be fewer lights on display. But even if there are not, I bet more will stop to ponder what isn’t brightly lit – a simple Nativity.
Why? Why will it be more meaningful? Because it’s lowly. Of all the ancient words used to describe the Nativity, we should all best relate to this word in 2009.
The year has brought many anxiety and heartache. It’s more difficult to cut back than to pile on more. We’ve all felt stretched. We’ve been humbled. Perhaps this year we can all appreciate more – more of what it means to be born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. From these modest beginnings, greatness was born.
This Christmas season find your own quiet place or a Nativity to ponder. Ask yourself, “Why? Why did I hang onto my dairy business?” You’ll probably find a treasure by asking the question this year. And it’s most likely because your true motivations are more lowly than you’ve realized before. PD
