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It’s Christmas.  

Looking out over the dead trees drenched in cold rain, I find it hard to be festive. My feet are cold, my nose is cold and no matter how many times I microwave my “Holly Jolly” mug, I find my coffee just a few degrees above freezing.

Not a good way to celebrate Christmas.  Or is it?

In all of the pictures I’ve ever seen of the first Christmas, Mary and Joseph were wrapped in layers and layers of robes.  Huddled together in that dark old barn most likely shivering.  It was a dreary night and a dreary world that Christ awoke to.  A little babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, laying in a manger.

But still, there he was.

What a wonder, that a Divine God would send his spirit to be made into a tiny human. God himself dwelling among us. To love us, to guide us, to unite us. To understand fully the human condition that he created.

A gift.  Not wrapped in ribbons and bows, but in rags. 

I am very thankful, that the God of all eternity would take time to walk a few years in my shoes.  To understand my likes, my dislikes, my good side and my bad side and all my worries and woes.

To give my soul “the thrill of hope and a weary world a chance to rejoice. “  

Not with reindeer or elves or sparkling lights.  But with a host of angels singing “Glory to God in the highest” and the promise of “good news for all people.”

I don’t know about you but I’m pretty damn glad that hose Herald angles did Hark and the First Noel did sing.

I could reject it all as nonsense.  

But I like peace and joy.  I don’t like fear and worry.   

So given the choice of fighting long lines at Walmart or arguing for hours with Amazon I think I will trust that little voice buried deep in my soul that gives me “peace that passeth all understanding”.

A tiny little voice that I have come to know well since it first spoke from a manger on a Silent Night Along time ago in Bethlehem.

So come and adore him.  Let heaven and nature sing. And God bless us, everyone.

Amen.

Recently our barn buddy, Tim dragged me to a dog shelter. Since he offered to buy me dinner  I hopped in and rode along.

To my surprise, “Oodles of Poodles” was a pretty happy place.  it was extremely clean with brightly painted chain link and cinder block stalls and piped in music. The floors were light blue and the walls were bright white. Every stall had a little hammock and every hammock had a little doggie pillow. All in all, a pretty nice place to be.  

My job was to take the pooches, 3 at a time to the  playroom so Tim could mop and remove any “accidents.” So I grabbed a German Shepherd, some kind of mixed breed Collie and a very fat gimpy beagle.

  The crowds went WILD!  Jumping and barking and drooling and yelping, those canines couldn’t wait to be my next escort.  I  felt like Tom Cruise at the Oscars.

The German Shepherd was the Clint Eastwood of the bunch.  He walked tall and looked everyone dead in the eye as we made our way down the hall. Meanwhile the Collie pranced along like Marilyn Monroe and Barney Fife, the Beagle barked at every other dog he saw.

Soon I was back for a golden retriever (Matthew McConaughey) , an old yellow lab( Danny Glover) and a  well groomed poodle who was the spitting image of Dolly Parton.

Finally I got to Speedy Gonzales, an over excited chihuahua on crack and Beyonce, a long haired champagne colored Poodle who could not stop throwing her hair over her shoulders as she spun around in at least 30 circles.

Once everyone was in the playroom, the fun REALLY began.  Dolly and Beyonce got into a staring match.  If Dolly moved Beyonce would snap at her.  So Dolly hid behind Clint Eastwood which apparently made Matthew McConaughey jealous and he charged Clint.  While I tried to break up Clint and Matthew, 

 Danny Glover hooked up with  Marilyn Monroe and the two of them headed to the cleaning closet. 

Speedy then picked a fight with Barney and I had to take him down with a broom.  I finally had to tie up Dolly while holding Speedy Gonzales tightly in my lap.  

Just then, Tim bolted through the door.

“Suppertime!” He shouted.

That was a “Sudden Impact” that we did not need.  The whole place erupted like “A Rage in Harlem.”

Eventually, we were able to secure everyone  back to their appointed spaces.  I was covered in dog hair and slobber.

Suddenly Tim realized that Clint Eastwood was in bed with Dolly Parton in Speedy’s house. So we had to separate the Good, the Bad and the Ugly before we locked the door.

    It was after midnight when I finally got home.  I threw my slobber soaked T shirt in the washing machine and  thought about Clint Eastwood.

What a handsome boy he was.  Assertive. Smart.  

Dedicated and loyal.

Good ole Clint Eastwood.

Made my day.

I had just turned on Star Trek and sat down to eat a ham sandwich when I saw him.  A big, mean wasp floating around my head. Closer and closer he came until he hung like a vicious helicopter about 4 inches from my nose. We stared at each other for a long second or two before the panic set in.

I knew I had to come up with an escape plan so  I pulled my head back slowly and ducked before making a mad dash for the kitchen. Realizing I had only seconds to arm myself, I searched quickly for my fly flap and wasp spray.

“It’s heading right for us!” Chekov yelled from the living room.  

My panic grew. Warp 4. Warp 5.   

I knew the villain was re-routing his self for another attack. They are like that. Those flying insects from hell. The closest things to Klingons we have on this planet.

Where was that damn fly flap?  Not in the cupboard. Not on the counter. Not in the mop closet or laying by the microwave.

Finally I found the wasp spray.

Not the weapon of choice but it would have to do. Faster than lightening, I rushed back to the living room. Just then I heard Sulu’s worried voice.  “He’s coming around, Captain.”

I turned and there he was.  Hovering. Strange how much a wasp looks just like a Klingon war ship. I sprayed dead ahead. Nothing.  Just a measly 3 drops of thin fluid fell from the end of the nozzle.

Totally defenseless, I found myself frozen in place. My heart was beating out of my chest. I took a deep breath and scanned the room.

I saw the Fly Flap. Just a foot away.

Breaking free from my fear induced trance,  I grabbed it and spun around to face my nemesis.  He was crawling along the window behind the sofa. I  heard Captain Kirk loud and clear. “Fire!” He ordered. I lunged forward and hit that damn wasp with the power of a thousand photon torpedo’s

He fell to the ground. Lifeless.  

I reflected on the battle. Yes, I had won this round but it was clear that I needed reinforcements.  So off I raced to the Dollar General. I stood at the door like a pissed off Khan.  

“Fly Flaps.” I demanded.

With her mouth hanging open, the cashier slowly pointed to the left.

In warrior mode, I marched along the shelves until I discovered them. My mighty plastic, colorful weapons. I took them all.

Once home I channeled my best Oprah Winfrey.  “YOU get a fly flap!” I announced to the fridge. “YOU get a fly flap.” I told the potted plant.  “Even YOU get a fly flap!” I said to the toilet.

I stood there. A hero in every way. I scanned for the enemy and there it was. Crawling along the outside glass of my patio door. I approached and showed it my weapons.  Two Fly Flaps in each hand.

“DO NOT ENGAGE.” I bellowed,  It paused. Then backed off the glass, hung for a moment and flew away.

I was proud of my performance and thankful for what I had learned.  The most important lesson being this.

If you want to defeat a Klingon you must have a torpedo.  

But if you don’t have a torpedo, a Fly Flap will do.

And the more, the better.