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By Tom Anselm

The goose is getting fat and penny’s are popping into the old man’s hat these days.

A common greeting heard everywhere is ‘Hey, you ready for Christmas?’ which will be met with varying degrees of panic or smugness, depending upon whether or not you’ve worn out your keyboard or challenged the hordes the day after Thanksgiving. Or both. Or neither.

I must admit, I have logged some pretty fair ‘good husband’ credits this year, by store-hopping with The Lovely Jill who is The General in this Christmas Campaign for the Perfect Gift. I not only serve as ‘designated package toter,’ but TLJ has even used my opinion, which has occasionally even gone beyond the usual “do you like the blue or the red? The red? Really? I like the blue” system of selection.

You see, as our kids kid’s grow in age and size, this annual venture into The Land of the Retail Raucousness has gotten more challenging. That and the fact that they are all pretty well-fixed with ‘stuff’, thanks to their generous parents, they who have also told us not to give their kids much, that they have all they need. Which is fine, but, come on… grandma not get stuff? Please. So we are working with the disadvantage of our grandies being flush.   We should all have such problems, right?

Still, we strive to be inventive, and are keeping the accumulation reasonable and useful. We have been successful in the past with winning packages, and I think we are set for another good grade this time around.

Something that always comes to the forefront this time of year is ‘helping the less fortunate.’

Lots of food and coat drives, extra dropping of them pennies in that old man’s hat (or kettle, whichever you see first). This is a wonderful season of giving, all in effort to provide sustenance and smiles to those who, for whatever reason, can’t make the ends meet, yet again. Our gang for a few years has been able to assist a family from our daughter Katie’s school district. Other people sponsor sales, volunteer at food banks, send cards, serve dinners. All good deeds, well-needed, well-received.

But what more should this winter solstice-related marker on the calendar mean to us?

I mean, even beyond the good works, giving of gifts, singing of carols, gathering of families.

Some faiths call it Advent. A time of waiting. A time of preparing for the New Light. The Baby Savior. Yeah, I know this happened years ago. Two thousand fifteen, really.   But our annual reenactment, our remembrance, our renewal of that humble and at the same time glorious event, that is what I need to focus on. The stores, the songs, the decking-of-the-halls… all good and well. But there is more.

So I, who can barely hammer a nail straight, gathered some scrap wood and fashioned a small stable for our Plastic Holy Family. Always a gentle amusement is the look on Mary’s face. Call it shock and awe. Tough night for her, this was. Baby Jesus, in a crib of yellow hay, grinning like he just had his first candy cane.

And him just hours old!

Good old reliable Joseph? His light cord shorted out years ago. He is not glowing like the rest of his family. But there he kneels, quietly, in the background, eyes closed, looking bone-tired. Which he no doubt was, what with just walking all the way from Nazareth with his pregnant wife and finally finding shelter just in time to deliver their child.

Anyway, by our porch, with a twisted-coat-hanger- light-entwined star shining three strands down upon it,t here is a cozy spot for them to “sleep in heavenly peace.”

And there you have it. Soon the packages will be opened, paper gathered up, family dispersed. Then, lights taken down, stored away.

The waiting is over. Our Faith fulfilled. Hope has appeared, and we are Joyful in the Peace and Light.

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