The Little Red Wagon

I’m not sure where the story begins. Maybe it started when my mom was born, or when my parents met. By that same token, the ending isn’t an ending, it’s a beginning.  Most everyone thinks their parents are the best. Mine truly were. I didn’t know how special or unique they were until my dad died. I just thought that all families were like ours, at least to a degree. I knew there were differences, but yet in my innocence or maybe my ignorance, I thought all parents were great. I just thought all daddies were like mine. It wasn’t until I was almost 50 when a childhood friend said to me, “Not all dads were like yours”, that I put any thought into the differences with my parents.  It was an eye-opening conversation. (I wasn’t naive, I knew kids were abused and such. I knew there were differences in families and parents, but I never thought about my dad or mom being special to other people) My dad has been gone for over 12 years now and people still talk about him like they just ta...

On the night that Jesus was born, there were no earthly celebrations, no text messages, phone calls, Tweets, or FaceTime, and Joseph didn’t post “He’s here” on Instagram. While the heavenly hosts sang and proclaimed His birth, the people of the earth did not acknowledge or even understand what His birth meant to mankind. The Savior of the world had been born. Born in a humble stable, God became flesh. “In this, the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him”. 1 John 4:9  It’s tempting to try to find our joy within the celebrations and traditions of Christmas rather than in God himself. We need to come to a place where we love Christmas...just because it's Christmas...The birth of our Savior....nothing else...no expectations for the perfect day or present... The perfect present was already given and we can never top that. This is the real meaning of Christmas.  It's not about the holiday...