There is a Christmas Eve tradition on Columbus Circle. 

Luminaries.

Lit around dusk and left to burn themselves out sometime between the nearby church bells that ring at Midnight and the mysterious arrival of Santa Claus, they pay tribute to the season.

And the fact that as a neighborhood, back in the day, we elected to forego streetlights.

A marvelous decision, I think...

A marvelous tradition, as well.

Elli and I walked around in the darkness and rain, taking pictures that I know could never do the real thing justice, wishing neighbors a Merry Christmas, listening to someone whistling Silent Night in the otherwise tranquil stillness and feeling very blessed.

Which, trust me, was not the case all day. There is always such an expectation of perfection and fulfillment that comes with Christmas. Of peace and harmony. But that is not the case, is it? It's still a day. Just a day. Filled with ordinary things like vacuuming, bad attitudes, trying to figure out supper, leaking faucets and missing our Firefighter, who has been on duty the last two days.

But walking outside tonight and seeing all those small lights struggling to illuminate the wet, cold darkness, reflecting on the real reason behind this season and how Jesus' coming changes everything; even the vacuuming, the bad attitudes, the suppers and the leaking faucets, I got the reality check I needed.

I am blessed. Richly so.

I hope you, too, feel blessed, wherever you are and whatever your day looked like.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.