I can’t even imagine the journey.
A distance of about 90 miles traveled in 3 or 4 days.
The man probably traveled on foot; the woman more than likely traveled on a donkey.
A difficult journey for anyone; but in this case the woman was nine months pregnant.

I have delivered five children and I can’t imagine traveling that distance on a donkey.
That is the time in a pregnancy a woman begins to nest to get ready for her baby to arrive.
In this couple’s case, there was no such luxury.
They were refugees in every sense of the word, poor, far away from home, tired, hungry.

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Today is a snow day.
Snow day!
Even the words conjure up wonderful memories.

Say snow day and your mind will have a brain storming session.
Hot chocolate, fire roaring in the fireplace, making a snowman, sledding.
What child doesn’t love a snow day, at any age?

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There are so many have-to’s at Christmas time.
Decorating the house.
Buying presents.
Wrapping presents.
Sending cards.

Often, people get so burdened by the have-to’s they forget the want-to’s.
There is a difference.

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It was originally known as The Carol of the Drum.
Katherine Kennicott Davis wrote it in 1941.
We know this song as The Little Drummer Boy.

The song has been recorded many times through the years.
First recorded in 1955 by the Trapp Family Singers of Sound of Music fame.
The song tells the story of a poor boy who comes to see Baby Jesus.

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He is a brother in the Lord.
Four of us sat at my kitchen table planning the National Day of Prayer for many years.
After we planned, we would pray.
Many of those prayers ended with prayers for our families.

I received news that his son died this morning after a hard-fought battle with cancer.
How do you lose a son?
How do you lose a son so close to Christmas?
How does a young wife say goodbye to a wonderful husband and Daddy to two little boys?

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You hear interesting things when you are doing your Christmas shopping.
You hear snippets of conversations that people are having with sales clerks.
You hear snippets of conversations that people are having with friends.
You hear snippets of conversations that people are having with someone on the phone.

I’m not eavesdropping.
I am never around long enough to evenly remotely understand what is being said.
It’s not my conversation.
Sometimes, I am stuck in the same location and I can’t help but hear.

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I never expected the phone call from my aunt.
There was a leak in the apartment above me, her voice sounded very small and fragile.
They have to make repairs; they are moving me to another apartment for the time being.

My youngest child was just an infant at the time, and I knew that I wouldn’t be much help.
I was in constant contact with my aunt and heard about the whole process.
The management boxed her things and moved what needed to be moved to an above floor.

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I look at the manger we set up every year.
It is as old as me, maybe a bit older.
It is so special to me, rustic, simple, unique.

It has been the mainstay of our family Christmas traditions.
It was where I would bring my small toddlers and talk about Baby Jesus.
It was where my young children wanted to play, carefully.

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I loved my Pop-Pop.
I was thinking about him when I was on my morning walk.
Patient with me, though not with everyone else.

We seemed to understand each other.
Kindred spirits as Anne of Green Gables would say.
He took a keen interest in everything that interested me.

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It was just a vinyl wall hanging.
A wall hanging with a huge picture of Santa’s face.
Kind eyes, rosy cheeks, furry hat, with wisps of white hair poking out underneath.

I don’t know where my mother found it, but it was always hung in the same place.
She chose to display it on the long, white wall on the enclosed back porch.
It was large; taking up the whole wall.
She had a revolving colored light shining on it.

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