Column: A child sleeps on Christmas morning
Submitted by Brett Fisher on Sun, 12/25/2016 - 7:59am
In a small room just down the hall from mine sleeps a little child. Though I have tossed and turned all night long with pain in my arms and legs, the child sleeps peacefully.
Perhaps visions of sugar plums -- or something similar like ice cream -- are dancing in her head as midnight passes and Christmas morning has arrived in the serene stillness of twilight.
I finally rise at dawn this morning, the pain in my limbs -- caused by Primary Lateral Sclerosis (PLS) -- too distracting to try and eek out another hour or two of sleep.
But in the room next to mine, the child still sleeps. At peace.
In spite of distracting pain, I bear witness to life's innocence. I see the beauty of Christmas, and it takes my mind back two thousand years ago when another babe lay sleeping peacefully in a manger.
Amidst the political turmoil caused by Rome's occupation of Israel, a prophecy long past spoken of by the prophet Isaiah several hundred years earlier is fulfilled in the humble shepherding town of Bethlehem, home of David, the country's most celebrated king.
Despite the paranoia of the region's current monarch, Herod I, the prophecy is manifest through the immaculate -- some say impossible -- conception of a young virgin, chosen by grace to bear a holy honor, but who is also the target of unwarranted social stigma by her neighbors in Nazareth.
She carries her burden, her blessing, with dignity regardless and sees the prophecy through.
Her reward -- along with that of her husband, Joseph, who stood faithfully at her side, and the many visitors to the manger that night -- was to witness a sleeping babe, a savior and king of kings, whom she held in her arms moments after his birth.
Two millenia later and two thousand Christmases following, our reward -- and our gift -- for the holiday still remains his birth.
I've got a busy day ahead of me. Christmas at home this morning, followed by playing Santa for some kids, and capped by Christmas brunch at my family's home in Reno.
I still hurt, my fingers and hands tingling with numbness and pain as I type, my legs spastic and sore.
But in the other room down the hall, a child sleeps at peace. My grand-daughter, in her two-year-old innocence, continues her slumber undisturbed by life's distractions.
Christmas has arrived here in Carson City.
Merry Christmas to my family, friends and neighbors in the Nevada State Capital.
