It was crudely decorated and well weathered through the generations. The paint had flecked and faded, and over the years the colour had changed. The door was set in a patched, field-stone foundation. Gathered greens from the fence rows tied with a big red bow welcomed those who entered.
To open the door, the hustle and bustle of the commercial frenzy was forgotten, the blaring music ceased and the need for Amazon disappeared.
Entering, the peace and calm was startling. Nature had decorated the frosted single panel windows with art work that could not be replicated by any of the masters. The animals, oblivious to the frenzy beyond the door, rested in the warmth of the stable. The young ewe nudged her new twin lambs towards her full udder and the cows rested contentedly on deep straw beds.
Opening the door, opened memories of Christmases past. Five generations had passed through the door that held the normalcy of life, the simplicity of Christmas and memories and reflections of those who went before. The efforts of parents and grandparents, secretly working on Christmas surprises, appeared as ghosts from the deepest recesses of the mind. It was a reflection of family, neighbours and distant cousins sharing in the spirit of good cheer.
The rustic and humble Christmas door IS the calm and peace and joy of Christmas.
One can feel the easing from the hustle and bustle to the quiet calm that lies beyond the door.
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