It’s Christmas Eve morning here on the farm, and as usual – and as I love it – everyone but me is asleep. Well, me and the rooster. Xander seems to think it is his responsibility to sing the tidings of the morning each day, and I suppose it is his responsibility.
So in the quiet of this gentle morning rain, with a fire made from a spark and the trees that have sheltered this land for generations, I wanted to take one moment and hold you in mind as I wish you the happiest of holidays.
I’ll be honest and say that I don’t really think happiness is something to be pursued, and I certainly don’t think it something that sits ready for all of us every day. But for the next week, as you light candles to remember miraculous jars of oil, as you settle in for the stories of a baby born in a stable, as you hold forth unity and collective responsibility and work as central to your community, as you bring in 2017 with as much hope and grief as there is on that day, I hope happiness sneaks in on you. I hope it bowls you over with unexpected delight. I hope it peeks in when sorrow speaks loud.
May your holidays be full, my friends, and as always, if you need somewhere to be, we begin brunch at 11am on Christmas Day. We have plenty of breakfast casserole for everyone. You are most welcome here.