Into the Fire

When I was a child, I got to sleep out on the couch in the living room on Christmas Eve – of course then it was because I hoped to see Santa. Maybe it was because I wanted to ask him why he never brought me a horse which was always first on my list. Nevertheless, I slept like a child with no worries, "like a log", so my parents knew they could set that one big unwrapped gift from Santa out in front of the tree and I wouldn't even stir.

The anticipation always got to me though, and I'd wake up around 1 or 2 AM and see that big gift and be so excited. I'd turn all the Christmas lights on and let our dog up from downstairs where he slept, make the mistake of giving him his Christmas stocking which invariably had squeaker toys and lots of treats. I'm sure it woke my parents and my brother, who was nine years older than me, whose bedroom was downstairs too, but then he slept like a log also so maybe not. Anyway, I'd open all my presents by myself, and my dog content with his new toys and treats, in the peace of early Christmas morning until my parents would stagger into the living room having not been blessed with sound sleep thanks to their daughter and her dog, but once they had their black Hills Brothers Coffee in hand, they were soon opening their gifts. 

That's just one of many wonderful Christmas memories in my idyllic childhood. 

Father, you've been so gracious to me, so patient, so kind. I'm forever grateful for it all. Thank you is never enough for your rescuing me later on in my life. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.