I wish I could pause time. Not stop mind you, but pause. If so, I would pause today, the last day of November. For tomorrow is December the 1st and the Christmas train, which has already been moving since Halloween, will increase its speed and intensity, barreling wily-nily, helter-skelter toward December the 25th.
Maybe pause is not the best word either. How about slow? I wish I could slow time.
But I have wished this before. And my wish was not granted. I have already seen A Charlie Brown Christmas and already attended a "dessert with Santa" at our elementary school. It's not December yet. Television executives and school administrators seem to know this same reality though. Best get your stuff done early, for it's a comin'.
I wish for a slow train.
A train that winds slowly through the canyon,
taking its time. The station's not going anywhere.
No worry. No rush. No mind.
Rest. Ride. Look. Listen.
Stand in the cold and stare at the lights.
Listen to the songs backdropped by the breathing of sleeping children.
Read the story again of shepherds, "slack-jawed" with wonder.
Stir the Chex-mix like momma did.
Drop the change in the red bucket by the man ringing the bell of mercy.
Smile at children lost in wonder-lust.
Wink at your girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or whatever.
Walk the slow walk of a pregnant Mary. This holiest of seasons must be approached reverently, slowly.
"Folks who rush miss things."
The station will be there when we get there.