If part of this essay looks somewhat familiar, it because I'm reusing some of my first essay of this blog-thing of mine. With all the activity around this great holiday, it's really hard for me to stay focused. In the Great Old Days with three massively excited kids running about, getting ready for Christmas there was little left-over thinkin' time. So many years later, with the adult kids set to arrive with a bunch of next generation children excitedly running amok, there still exists little time for reflection. Although I find myself almost giddy with the joy of everyone coming home, I really need to also process this religious event. Celebrating the day Jesus was born; a day that, two thousand years later is remembered and widely celebrated is a mind-boggling joy and privilege. If you're not a believer, you might want to be happy for all those people who are joyously celebrating. If you are a believer, perhaps we can remind ourselves: Jesus? Really? For us? Thanks a lot.
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. She somewhat fearfully 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.