A Christmas Prayer

Four days until Christmas. It feels as if only a short time ago, it was five days until Christmas. Time really flies when you're having fun. I look at the faces of the shoppers standing in long lines at the stores. Hardly a smile as they lug their treasures up to the clerk at a pace that gives rush hour traffic supersonic status. We look to peak out on the 25th at a stage of mild neurosis rather than full blown psychosis. If I hear one more of those piped in Christmas songs, I might find a corner and assume the fetal position.

We fret over the Holiday dinner. Turkey or ham. Seating arrangements because Uncle Cy and Aunt Hilda are now divorced and dad detests his new son-in-law. Who prepares what or brings what. Such problems are overwhelming. But let us escape for a moment from our tidings of joy and good will toward men and spend some time spreading cheer to those whose Christmas season is not as joyous as ours.

To those sleeping in the bus stop shelter, clothing packed with newspapers to insulate them from the cold, Merry Christmas. To the displaced victims of the natural disasters, Merry Christmas. The poor and down trodden, regardless of race, religion, color or creed, Happy Holidays.

To the husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, children and grandchildren and co-workers serving in the Armed Forces whether this is your first Christmas away from home or one of many, Merry Christmas.

It matters not where you are geographically, Iraq, Korea, Germany, Afghanistan, Stateside or if you are living in poverty in Los Angeles, Chicago, New York or Alabama, a Merry Christmas.

While my sleigh isn't full of gifts and I can't visit all of you, understand that my prayers are with you. That's all I can give.