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It's early Christmas day. I couldn't sleep. Actually, the two dogs woke me. Sometimes, they need to climb up on the bed and curl up on the corner. Of course each weigh about eighty pounds and they take up more than the corner. Somehow, we all wind up back asleep, at least for awhile. This time, however, they got me up, wide awake, walking the quiet halls and kitchen, looking out the window, overlooking the street and the front yard.

A year ago, there was a different tune-a different dance. We were all running this time last year with the thought of one of our own so far away and yet was able to come home. A new grandchild on the way. We had jobs an fairly free of illnesses. This year was so much better?

So, I stood there in the kitchen, looking out at an empty street with random decorative lights, frost on the lawn-quiet. It wasn't so different. The same lawn, the same random lights, maybe a different neighbor or two, and our own was home, but still pretty much the same.

I don't want it to be the same.

There is a line in the movie, Miracle on 34th Street  where Santa is talking to the store manager about whether he really exists. The manager, if you remember the movie, is a sad sort and wanted everyone to be as sad as she was. She had trust issues, like the rest of us. He told her he was symbolic for hope, peace, there's a chance of a better life in this rough time some of us live. Nice, but how do you tell someone who lost a child, a home, a job-"Hey, Santa says there is hope, peace, there is a chance a better way. Thanks for listening. Have a good day under that bridge with your mental illness."

Yeah, you don't. Unless--there is. Unless there is actual hope, peace, a chance at both. Funny thing, as I found myself getting older, both of those elements weigh heavily with me. We opened our presents last night and I got a package of socks. Not just any package, a dozen white socks!! Now, right now, if you are a man, particularly a middle-aged man and you heard that present, you are drooling a little out of the corner of your mouth. I sat in a chair in the back and watched the rest of the family, particularly the grand kids open some of their stuff. I watched their parents. I like watching people-no not from an alley with binoculars. I use to do that-not anymore.

What can we be content with? How about being known for who we are? With all our garbage and issues; with all our baggage and our cabinets full of lotions. What if we were accepted-just the way we are? How would that change the running for the brass ring?

The tile floor in the kitchen was cold. I like to turn down the heat at night so little icicles form on the ceiling. I got a drink of water and walked back to bed, trying not to stub my toes on anything. Have you ever gotten up at night, half asleep, trying to take care of business without waking fully, only to stub your food on a chair, bringing you way beyond awake? Well, thinking about doing it does the same thing. Anyway, I crawled back into bed, pushing one dog out of my spot where she found my body heat had warmed it to a nice temp. She grumbled and then moved back to the foot of the bed.

Sometime in the next day or so, go stand at a window before dawn and take a look outside. See if you see it. See if you want to see it.

Merry Christmas.