Ride

For a lot of us, the next 48 hours will be a blur of bone-crushing quantities of turkey and pie. If someone were to follow me around for the next two days and figuratively sweep up the carnage I leave in my wake, then upon taking a peek into the dustpan one would most definitely find these things: sticky cinnamon bun crumbs, fallen pine needles from the Christmas tree that died 3 days after we got it about 3 weeks ago, a few sore throat candy wrappers from the unfortunate strep throat epidemic that has overtaken our house, and the leftover bits of all of our worries and stresses and grudges and resentments that we have chosen to leave behind.

It's messy, but it's merry.

Katie feels the spirit of Christmas year-round, bless her heart. I have been singing "Silent Night" to her every night for as long as I can remember. Kids are creatures of habit, but Katie takes it to another level. It HAS to be "Silent Night", and only the first two verses. I can't sing it too fast or too slow, and I have to sing it like I mean it. Once in a while she will sing it with me and to this day she sings the last verse like this: "Christ, the Sailor is born, Christ the Sailor is born." I don't have the heart to correct her as she sings it so passionately, so sweetly, from her heart. 

Whatever we all do over these next couple of days will look different from one house to the next. Some of us have ham instead of turkey. Some of us go to church together, some of us drink together. Some of us do both. Whether or not we celebrate Christmas and however we decide to celebrate, let's share this commonality: to let go of whatever it is that is dragging us down and holding us back from all the good stuff that is ahead.

Whether Christ is our Savior or a Sailor, let's not miss the boat. I'll be standing on the bow carrying a fruity drink and wearing a big grin... or... I'll be puking in the cabin. But either or, I'll be riding it.