A Christmas Post

When I was younger, and by younger I mean in high school, I used to get sad thinking about the day when "Santa" wouldn't come anymore, and I wouldn't get a stocking. How earthly I was! I've discovered that giving great gifts, and helping out with the niece's "Santa" gifts are sooo much more fun than I ever could have imagined.
Now, before you think I'm getting all "holier than thou" on you, keep in mind that I still get caught checking out the presents under the tree, just to make sure there is at least one with my name on it, but it's really not that big of a deal anymore. And it makes me glad, knowing I've reached the point where I'm finally starting to realize how much I have and how little I need.
Tonight, as I was actually COOKING, my niece Ryleigh told me a not-so-well-known Christmas story that her mom told her. Now, Ryleigh's version of the story was this: "Last year Santa didn't come because he was driving home drunk people" I love it when my niece tells me stories involving drunk people, or better yet, when we're playing pretend and she pretends to stop at the "smoke shop". yep. she's five, and she knows about that stuff. Anyways, the real story happened like this: my sister, many many years ago, had to give rides home to her boyfriend's family who enjoyed the Christmas Eve festivities a little too much and it was very late by the time she got home. When she walked up to our front door she found a note on it "I've already come and gone, sorry you missed me. Love, Santa" Moral of the story: Sometimes doing a good deed will make you miss the Jolly Good Fellow.
I asked Santa for two things this year, neither of which I expect to receive because one of them Santa can't afford and the other is because Santa can't make people fall in love. Alas, I will be happy with my traditional orange that is always left for us and some mustard-colored item that my mom already let slip that she got me. I have no idea what posessed my mom to buy me something mustard-colored considering there are only two people on the face of this earth that look good in mustard-colored-clothing and I am not one of them...
Every Christmas, while opening presents someone in our family cries. No joke. It's actually kind of a funny Holiday tradition around our household. Most times, it begins with the person disguising their crying with laughing, but then you realize that person must be crying, because you would too if you received: *fill in the blank* I'll admit, one year I cried because I got contacts for Christmas and I was so happy! When you're a pudgy ninth-grader who's been wearing glasses for the last 5 years, it's worth crying about. Two years ago both me and my sister cried at the same time. We both received these fleece coats from our mom. Same style, hers had pine trees on it and mine had bears. They were so random and not us at all, we laughed so hard and then we were crying before we knew it! That's the way we do Christmas, Brown-style.
This year we have a new family member: Colton. Next year, we may have another new family member and that's always exciting to think about.

May this Christmas you find yourself surrounded by family, mustard-colored shirts and crying because you're so deliriously happy.

Merry Christmas, Peace to You, and a Happy New Year.

eb

"For unto us, a Child is born...And His name shall called Wondeful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace" Isaiah 9:6