We had nearly perfect timing for the morning.  Managed to encourage the kids to sleep late.  Emptied the stockings.  Tore open a few presents.  Off to church at ten o’clock.

Christmas morning would have a first half of presents.  A church service halftime show.  A second half of presents and then lunch.  Perfection!

In order to get the extended family unit to church, we took two cars.  My wife headed out in the first car.  My Freestyle held the second crew, which was my boys and me.  With my 13-year-old riding shotgun, we engaged in an epic struggle over the car radio.  Christmas music versus pop songs.  Epic struggle, but a sign that all was right in the world.

Pulling into the church parking lot, I looked at a woman entering the building and remarked, “Wow!  She looks really good.  Merry Christmas, indeed!”

Stunned for a moment, my teenager soon realized that I was looking at his mom.  My wife.  A beautiful, talented, and fashionably bundled up for the weather woman (not to mention her amazing jeans that deserve their own exhibit in the “Saucy Wing” of the Smithsonian), who was walking into the church.

My son gave me a roll of the eyes and knowing grin.  An acceptance of his father’s humor and affection.

A grin.  So appropriate.  A grin to savor.  I was surrounded by blessings.  My kids and wife, not only tolerate me, but often find me genuinely somewhat almost amusing.  I could not ask for anything more for Christmas.  I already have everything I need.