Why is it that the joy and the pain are so often tangled up with one another? For instance, when I hear Christmas songs, I instantly feel the sweet, free joy that belongs to small children because my mother made Christmas as magical as the songs promise.

But almost immediately, I remember the other children, the ones Santa won’t visit, no matter how well they behave, and I worry that they might think Santa skips them because of something they did or didn’t do.

Every year I donate to Toys for Tots, but I know they can’t possibly get toys to every child.  And, of course, there are also the children who are hungry or sick or abused.  I wonder what they think when they hear those songs?

I know that Christmas is not about toys.  I know.  And I agree, BUT little kids don’t get it, you know?  And they shouldn’t have to.

So I pray that miracles will be in abundance during this season of giving.  I pray that somehow every child will have at least a moment without hunger or pain or fear. I pray each child has a moment of laughter, a moment of silliness, a moment when the pure, reassuring love of God lightens their burdens and lights up their hearts.

It seems impossible I know, but if I’m not mistaken, that’s His specialty, isn’t it?