Christmas was divine, and not just because I turned in my entire copyedit of All That Is Bitter and Sweet! I attended Lessons and Carols at St Paul Episcopal, and of my favorite parts were the beautiful hymn for Mary, and the children adding to the creche. I always find specific moments of the Lessons intensely moving, this year was no different. I had cocoa and did presents with a dear friend’s little girls, toured the magical lights in our historical small town, and went to bed in contemplation of the God who presides over us all. Christmas day, family and I had our usual vigorous talk about whether Jesus was born in July, whether he was married, and how really, to each of us, such details, however significant to others, doesn’t matter. He is Jesus, He is Love, that is what matters. After my usual Christmas morning Country Breakfast (it is the ultimate!!!!!), Mom made a beautiful supper. My real Christmas, though, was lying in bed that night, slowly reading cards, and realizing I had cards from both of my now deceased grandparents’ homes. The residents sent me cards, and iit was very touching to see the Ashland, KY post mark, the familiar return addresses, the thoughtful, loving messages. It dawned me that having drawn them back to back on Christmas night from a stack of about 200 Chrsitmas cards, God was letting me know, my grandparents love me yet, as I do them. I had Christmas with them in spirit, as I always do, but this year with a wonderful piece of a physical evidence. My own Christmas miracle.