As I crept through the house toward that first cup of coffee on this early morning, I spied the lumps and tell-tale ribbons peeking out of our Christmas stockings.  And, the tears did come…  Not that I ever doubted you, you dear old elf.  But there were moments this year when I wondered if our little family would ever again spend a Christmas together in my beloved Oysterville.  In this old house with all its echoes from holidays of long ago.

Santa, in all your many guises this year – as family members or neighbors or friends or even people we’ve never met – thanks for being there and for never giving up on us.  All year long! Those are the thoughts that came surging forth and manifested themselves, unbidden, in streaming eyes and that shaky, need-to-sit-down feeling that sometimes overtakes us.  Or, at least it does me.  It’s probably an old lady reaction, Santa, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  It’s the equivalent of the little-girl ‘tummy-wiggles’ I remember from Christmas mornings long ago!

So, dear Santa, Happy Christmas from our little corner!  As long as you are with us, there is hope.  And, truth to tell, the whole world needs a lot of that right now!