The Very Best Christmas

Shelby and I had a few last minute things to pick up from the store, and while we were driving we noticed several near-miss accidents. Everybody was in a horrible rush. One lady laid angrily on her horn behind me, wanting me to turn in front of another car, I guess. When she zipped around me, I resisted the impulse to flip the bird, and instead waved and said, “Merry Christmas” to her.

I commented that so many people get stressed out trying to recreate the best Christmas they ever had, but this is an impossibility because you can’t buy the Very Best Christmas. Then, reminiscing:

The Very Best Christmas, I received a dog tag engraved “Mom”.

The Very Best Christmas, I opened a package with a macaroni necklace.

The Very Best Christmas was any when my Grandma was still alive. Or, my Dad. Or, Andy.

This year will also be the Very Best Christmas.

I have my health.
I have my Mom.
I have my friends.
I have my children.
I have my grandchildren.
I have my Arthur.

And of course we always celebrate the FIRST Very Best Christmas; when a special Baby was born to teach us how to love and care for one another.

If we can just remember that lesson, every year will always be the Very Best Christmas.