Here it is, Christmas night. I sit writing an entry in my blog while the rest of the family watches my favorite movie of all time, Smoke Signals. I'm only partially involved, as I have seen it numerous times. I really want to never tire of it if possible. Great Indian flick or not, my thoughts are on Christmas, and what it's really about. Hard not to be grateful.
Picture this scenario: you're a sixteen or seventeen year old girl, snuggly asleep in your bed, and you wake up and there's a huge angel with big ol' wings standing next to your bed. Yow! It'd scare the dog out of you. So he says: "God has sent me to tell you that you are chosen to be the Mother of Jesus, the Savior of the world. But you have to agree to have this child." So, despite her great fear, she agrees, and zzzzt! she's just conceived God. Nine months later she gives birth to baby Jesus. Does she know what the Father knows? Out of love for us, he gave us his son, that in thirty-three years he would be beaten almost to death, then agonizingly nailed to a cross. For us. To save mankind. Unbelievable. What a deal. What a gift. The birth of Christ. Merry Christmas world.