Christmas Season

Santa Claus is a scary dude. Right up there with God. He watches our every move and keeps score with a list that he checks twice to prepare for judgement day and what might lay under the Christmas tree if you're not found naughty. I love that little baby in a manger and angels, shepherds, lambs , a bright star to follow. But the wise mens' gifts are suspect. Smart shoppers would bring a rattle, toys, maybe a lullaby. Santa, Jesus, Christmas, a season of light, anticipation and anxiety. The big question pressing hard like steel on ice. Skating around sacrifice and salvation. For God sake who could ever hope to be that nice? Santa is not around after he delivers, thankfully he leaves town and God sleeps like new parents do, catching some Z's after an evening of childbirth, well wishers, three kings. Christmas morning. Hurry! Bring your best intention. Escape! Wake up before anyone. Open your present moment.