When I think of Christmas, I think of lights. Many things are associated with this season - decorated evergreen trees, brightly wrapped gifts, good food, candy, friends and family - but the greatest memory I have is lights.
Maybe it started when I was a girl living west of Gravette. We had a twostory white-framed house that sat on a hill. Papa was a machinist, so he knew how to provide us with electric lights long before any of our neighbors had electricity.Still, we frugally turned out the single hanging bulbs when not in use, except on Christmas Eve. Papa would walk through all the rooms, turning on the lights. People going by would look up and see all those lights, and I’m sure it made their Christmas a little brighter. It gave each passing car a glimpse of something special. For one Christmas Eve, cares and hard work of the past year just vanished with those lights.
During this time Mamma would take us kids to theone-room school house for our annual Christmas play. Clutching our sack of candy, we traveled back home in the dark. Long before reaching our house, we saw it. It shined like a castle for miles around.
Now, when I get out my Christmas tree, I first put tiny blinking lights on, before the tinsel or ornaments. It stands tall at the front window, my only attempt to show off my house during the season. I’ve never decorated my lawn, though I love to drive through towns and neighborhoods and see homes and town squares alight with their modern decorations and extravagant displays.
Christmas lights make me think of another scene from1976, when I took a trip to Israel. One night our group rode a bus into Bethlehem. The town sits on a hill and its lights beckoned us, even as that star that shone so brightly over the Christ child over 2,000 years ago led the wise men. They said "We have seen his star in the east and are come to worship him" (Matthew 2:2). Upon spying Bethlehem’s lights, our small tour group began singing "O, Little Town of Bethlehem." It was the holiest of nights.
Maybe that’s why I loved the simplicity of that Ozark house of my childhood. It reminded me of the star of Bethlehem. Whether big or small, extravagant or simple, I’m grateful for Christmas lights. When you see Christmas lights this year, I hope, like me, you think of the reason for the season - Christ’s birth.
Marie Putman is a former Gravette resident and regular contributor to the Westside Eagle Observer.
Opinion, Pages 6 on 12/14/2011