That's the magic of Christmas. And keys.

For Beatrice, there is no yesterday or tomorrow. There isn't even today.

There's only now.

Which is why it's fascinating to watch her play, explore and learn. The series of the most inconsequential discoveries to us are heavenly revelations to Bea.

As it should be. That kind of mindful presence unearths the purest learning and awareness, the God-light empowered.

That's how Bea came to be actually. A series of self-aware events, even inconsequential at first, that eventually amassed critical to the eventual conception.

Most of us struggle with this kind of focus, and it's always the holidays that increases our focal strength, sometimes painfully so, the reflection of what we're not more powerful than what we are.

Bah-humbug, depression or worse. Just watch It's a Wonderful Life or The Family Man a few hundred times and you can join me in the bawl-fest to end all bawl-fests. Or listen to Linus tell the Christmas Story.

*sniff* *snort* *sigh*

Now our little explorer has found an undying fascination with keys. Our car keys in particular, the ones with the buttons that lock and unlock the doors, open the trunks, set the alarms off.

You know, the metaphorical gift that keeps on giving, opening doors to things we want to see, and things we don't.

Watching Bea take the keys and try to open our front door is priceless to me. Yes, I know that everything our baby does is priceless, but when I play out the metaphor in the dust-bunny filled nooks and crannies of my mind, I am God-light empowered.

The keys of quiet discovery glean insight to now.

That's the magic of Christmas. And keys.