When my wife and I were newly married, we took a stroll around our neighborhood to see the Christmas lights. After the expense of furnishing our first home, we had nothing left for outdoor decorations, so we had to admire the other houses on our street that year.

On our walk, we stumbled upon a bright front window that had a huge, electric Winnie-the-Pooh casting a beautiful glow into the front yard. We stopped to behold its wonderment. A light-up Winnie-the-Pooh! Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that such a thing existed. I’m not sure if she yet knew of my boundless lack of tact and subtleness, or the extent of my hubris – but the next few minutes revealed a great deal about the man she had married. I had to have that Pooh!

I went to the door to size up the owners – a nice, older couple who flatly denied my offers to purchase their Pooh. Evidently, there was already a fight brewing among their children and they simply couldn’t disappoint them. I stopped negotiating and started surveilling the house in preparation for night maneuvers. That Pooh would be mine.

 

As you can see, I got the Pooh and it has been a fixture in my house ever since. Fortunately for our neighbors and my criminal record, we found out that Sears had them in stock and threw the budget to the wind as you do when a light-up Winnie-the-Pooh is at stake.

I love that bear. And while I am a stickler about turning out lights to save every milliwatt of electricity possible, the bear stays on from the day after Thanksgiving until the day after Christmas simply because it is pleasing.

Our kids love it, too – it is an essential part of Christmas in our home. He even snuck into our last Christmas photo before Kylie got sick:

I fully anticipate an all-out war when we decide to divest ourselves of it. We’ve talked about trying to find more of them to lessen the hostilities, but it is actually kind of fun to think of our heirs brawling over something instead of just pitching everything in a landfill.

This light will shine long after I am extinguished. It has already outlasted one.

 

I recall some interesting facts about light from schoolish days:

All electromagnetic radiation is light, but we can only see a small portion of this radiation—the portion we call visible light. Cone-shaped cells in our eyes act as receivers tuned to the wavelengths in this narrow band of the spectrum. Other portions of the spectrum have wavelengths too large or too small and energetic for the biological limitations of our perception.

 

So there is an incredible amount of light around us at all times, but we are limited in how much we can perceive. In fact, science tells us that we can only see 0.0035% of the full spectrum of light. The rest is invisible to us because of our human limitations.

But what about when we shed this shell that limits us? Then… well, then we can see it all. With shackles removed, all light is discernible. I wonder what it’s like – being able to see and perceive more light than I could see if I were to stand in the sands of the Saraha at mid-day. It must be incredible.

I think about how much I love seeing Pooh all lit up for Christmas and I consider how foolish my enjoyment must seem to Kylie, whose vision is no longer limited by earthly rods and cones. She can now see the full glory of his light – the entire spectrum. Pooh is 99.9965% more lovely to her and our beautiful bear is just the tip of the iceberg of truths she can perceive that I cannot. Now I know in part whereas she knows fully.

I can picture her shaking her head with a little grin – like you do when you have an unbelievable secret to share. She would say something like, “Oh, Daddy. Daddy, just wait until you really see it. Just wait. You haven’t seen anything yet!”

 

I’ll wait. We’ll wait together, me and Pooh. Just a few more Christmases to go. Leave the light on for me, baby. I’m coming.