Tis the Season

Tis the Season for glorious things:

Celebrating babies...one miraculous one in particular, but we can also enjoy all the other babies, bundled in heavy blankets and forced to wear tiny Santa hats.

Drinking fancy holiday drinks, peppered with special topping like shaved chocolate or roasted espresso beans. Its the time of year when you are willing to go that extra mile to deck the halls of your coffee mug for the sake of your taste buds.

Teaching bright eyed little tots about the wonders of Christmas. From the common practice of tree light viewing from underneath its scraggly boughs to the not so tidy joys of eating one's first ever peppermint stick.

Receiving oodles of snail mail each day from loved ones across the map. I love when more cards arrive than junk mail magazines. And this phenomenon occurs only once a year-- wonderful, glorious, Christmas time.

Just a few pretty universal musings I'm sure many of your identify with, regardless of zip code.

But some of you need cold weather, snow, and a toasty fire to really feel like its Christmas.

Our Season takes place somewhere hot and muggy, which is not so universal. My sister and I married a pair of northern boys and for them tis the season of ambiguous weather that does not feel like Christmas at all. And yet it is Christmas, its our Christmas. Its our palm trees lit up with twinkle lights and bedecked in tinsel. Its our flip flops patterned with plaid and lined with shearling. Its how we roll this time of year.

Yet can I say for the record, that I only enjoy Christmas at home and in church? Its true. December in this town stinks. Nasty creatures emerge from under rocks this time of year, to get behind the wheel of their cars in the hopes of running over their fellow man with vulgar shouts and curses all for the sake of a 10% discount at some crummy bargain store. Yuck. I went on a "quick run" to the grocery store a few nights ago. I almost died three times in the process. I was flipped off more times than I can count for things like letting an elderly woman cross the parking lot in front of my car. Pretty gruesome. I must say that while I love the Season, I am not a fan of the location or the majority of people that live in it.

But Christmas at home with the family is lovely. Sure it may be hot outside, with the occasional freakish cold weather day bottoming out at 50 degrees, but inside our home its Christmas. Drippy Advent candles, mangers packed with cattle lowing and plastic dinosaurs attacking, fleece footie pajamas, and thankful hearts for the birth of our Savior.

I hope the Season brings you joy wherever you are, whether surrounded by palm or pine, sun or snow. Merry Christmas.