My granddaughter’s early arrival of course means that there is once again a baby in the house at Christmas.
What a neat blessing it is.
Baby Issa – as her father has nicknamed her – was by far the youngest and the smallest person in the congregation at Christmas Eve Mass tonight, which did not go unnoticed by our parish priest (who stopped to marvel at her a couple of times), the deacon, or pretty much anyone else within a pew or two of where we sat.
I have long believed that Christmas just isn’t, without children to celebrate it with. A new baby represents the hope and promise of the first Christmas 2,000 years ago in the tiny village of Bethlehem. Bring on the Santa Magic, and more days to gaze upon the sheer perfection of this young lady’s face.