He made me laugh.
That second born son.
The one who shoulders the weight.
The future.
He made me laugh.
He loves Christmas.
Always has.
Little sleep.
So excited.
A bundle of joy.
Energy.
Complying with my request, for a cup of coffee, before presents, on Christmas morning;
he will have one waiting. . . long before it is time to be awake.
he will have one waiting. . . long before it is time to be awake.
Energy.
Sheer joy.
Over presents.
Over a babe in a manger.
Wonder.
Wonder.
Contagious.
And at 15 that joy is still there.
I walk into the dining room after my shower. . . and I can hear it.
And deep down I can feel the joy.
He has turned on the Christmas music.
Not just any Christmas music.
Gene Autrey. . .Brenda Lee.
The songs stir within a plethora of emotions.
Too early you say?
Is it?
Is it too early to rejoice in a gift given?
To find joy amid deep pain.
To take the mundane and turn it around?
I don’t think so.
And when that man/boy plays the Christmas music.
I know deep within there is still a boy.
There is still the pure delight in the age old magic of that starlit night;
when the holy touched the earth.
To find joy amid deep pain.
To take the mundane and turn it around?
I don’t think so.
And when that man/boy plays the Christmas music.
I know deep within there is still a boy.
There is still the pure delight in the age old magic of that starlit night;
when the holy touched the earth.
Isaiah 9:6
For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
