This was to be "My Christmas Thought" for this coming Sunday, but it was viewed as a bit maudlin for the season. That is one view, but I'd prefer to consider the beautiful "miracle" of it all, but then, I revel in miracles around me throughout the year and in particular during the Christmas season. After all, 'tis the season for reflection, and we need to ignore the naysayers and try to remember the reason for the season. We need to, for a moment, set aside the selfish material desires of the season and consider the simple aspect of joy - if not in the birth of our savior, then in something other than a wrapped gift under a dying tree. Maybe we need to reflect on the joy of life, and not on the misery. Our children need to embrace this joy, as if tomorrow may never come, and we need to learn from it. God help us all if we don't. Each year I await, more than anything, a simple gift, the call from my children wishing me a merry Christmas. This is the selfish gift for old farts which reaffirms for us that we have not been forgotten, that we will not die alone. It gives us great joy.
Spellcheck says “await” isn’t a word. Bon jour! I weep for my country, as I “await” your comment on this, and the remainder of my post should you feel so inclined to continue reading at the following link: What Gifts May Come