As long as habit and routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge.
Henry Van DykeRead
There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.
Interpretation
The essence of Christmas lies in its spirit, not just in the celebration of the day itself.
Henry Van Dyke emphasizes that the true value of Christmas goes beyond the mere celebration of December 25th. Keeping Christmas means embodying the values of love, kindness, and generosity throughout the year, making it a way of life rather than a single day's observance.
In practice
During a holiday gathering, you might say this quote to remind everyone of the true meaning of the season.
As long as habit and routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge.
It is with rivers as it is with people: the greatest are not always the most agreeable nor the best to live with.
Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way."
And you will remember that love is not getting, but giving; not a wild dream of pleasure, and a madness of desire β oh no, love is not that β it is goodness, and honour, and peace, and pure living β yes, love is that; and it is the best thing in the world, and the thing that lives longest.
Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; But when it comes to living, there is no place like home.
No amount of energy will take the place of thought. A strenuous life with its eyes shut is a kind of wild insanity.
My mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart-a heart so large that everybody's joys found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation.
The human father has to be confronted and recognized as human, as man who created a child and then, by his absence, left the child fatherless and then Godless.
By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class.
Real mothers don't just listen with humble embarrassment to the elderly lady who offers unsolicited advice in the checkout line when a child is throwing a tantrum. We take the child, dump him in the lady's cart, and say, "Great. Maybe you can do a better job." Real mothers know that it's okay to eat cold pizza for breakfast. Real mothers admit it is easier to fail at this job than to succeed.
Parenthood abruptly catapults us into a permanent relationship with a stranger, and the more alien the stranger, the stronger the whiff of negativity. We depend on the guarantee in our children's faces that we will not die. Children whose defining quality annihilates that fantasy of immortality are a particular insult; we must love them for themselves, and not for the best of ourselves in them, and that is a great deal harder to do. Loving our own children is an exercise for the imagination.
It is the logic of consumerism that undermines the values of loyalty and permanence and promotes a different set of values that is destructive of family life.
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