No Christmas is Perfect

Midnight Mass was beautiful.  The ride home was beautiful, also.  It was snowing lightly.  The long curving, country road was barely lit by the Christmas lights, decorating homes.  We didn't need the radio because the nuns’ voices were still singing in our minds.      

Our world was quiet, at peace.                 

Until morning…all hell broke loose.  My adult son refused to wake up.  I couldn't find his girlfriend’s present; but it’ll show up.  We won’t see her until this weekend, so I don’t need it right now.  My granddaughter didn't understand why Santa gave her two of something.  My son’s cat had ripped some presents looking for her presents (She smelled catnip).  My camera’s battery was low.  And my oven is a mess because my 20 year old roasting pan had a tiny leak in it.  I was wondering what the drip/hiss/sizzle sound was. 

Time for quiet meditation—Ignatian style.  I’m Mary. 

You’d think Joseph would have enough sense to make reservations.
These animals stink.
It’s cold outside and I’ve a newborn.
All I want to do is rest and everybody and their uncle have come to gawk.
What am I supposed to do with gold, frankincense, and myrrh?
I need diapers!

I want my mommy!

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