When I told Hank to go lay down I didn’t mean right on top of the freshly mopped and still wet floor. I almost made him move but I stopped myself. He just wanted to be with me, his family. I knew the feeling. I have not been to a single Christmas party or baked one Christmas cookie and Christmas Eve is right around the corner. Two moves in about as many months has not been easy. But as I stood there grateful to be at a point where mopping the floor was possible I thought of the Christmas story. The real one, not the “you’ll shoot your eye out” one. Mary and Joseph were on a journey to a place where it seemed there wasn’t much room for them. When hope was almost lost, an opportunity presented itself. And while it might not have happened the way they imagined, it was a beautiful moment all the same. That’s the real spirit of Christmas. It’s not about the perfect picture that Norman Rockwell painted for us, but about the fact that ordinary things – in this case a baby – can bring about miraculous changes. We’ve been lucky to have some pretty amazing things happen to us this year. And that’s something worth celebrating, cardboard boxes and all. Merry Christmas.