Home For Christmas

I finished arranging the last of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. I pressed the switch and the bright red, green and blue lights lit the room, and the star topper sparkled.

The manger was arranged with Mary and Joseph beside the baby Jesus and the wise men holding their gifts.

My children were getting the milk and cookies ready for Santa Claus before going to bed and awakening to presents and my laughter, even though Hal wasn’t home.

I sat on the large sofa and sipped my hot cocoa when the doorbell rang.

My Hal, home from the war.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Savior

Mary held baby Jesus in her arms, coddling him from danger as Joseph watched. He was tiny and quiet, sleeping peacefully. Joseph touched Mary’s shoulder gently and she smiled. The animals surrounded them and watched as the family sat contentedly in joyful wonderment staring at the small gift. Mary, exhausted, stayed awake afraid to leave her newborn son out of her sight, but Joseph took him from her arms, and she laid back and fell into a deep sleep.

Joseph gazed at his son in awe, the miracle God granted them.

The Savior, Christ, who would sacrifice himself for others.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The True Meaning Of Christmas

Three-year-old Hannah placed a reindeer ornament on the Christmas tree while her mother put on the sparkling red star topper. The tree with its colorful lights lit up the room.

Hannah’s mother admired its beauty. “Your father will be very surprised.”

“Do you think Santa will bring me everything I asked for?” Hannah danced in a circle.

“Presents aren’t the true meaning of Christmas. We celebrate the birth of baby Jesus.”

Hannah didn’t quite understand, but picked up the baby Jesus from the manger.

“Mom can we buy Jesus a present for Christmas?”

Hannah's mother touched her face and smiled.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Some Things Will Always Remain A Mystery

When Bob achieved omniscience in heaven, pretty much all the crazy shit that had never made sense now became clear. But as he sat on a cloud with Baby Jesus, there was still one mystery that confused him.

"You forgive everyone, right?"

"That's right," Baby Jesus said.

"Even those religious fundamentalists who preach intolerance?"

"Yes, even them."

"I guess they're lucky you're a forgiving God."

Baby Jesus giggled. "To tell you the truth, I don't get why they worshiped me in the first place. Why not go in for one of the more vengeful religions that better suited their temperament?"

Lingering Resentments

I was presented with a choice: I could obey or I could go to hell.

It seems like a no-brainer, but to understand the nature of my dilemma, you'll need some background. As a graduate student, I lived next to a nursery. The enclosure had been shoddily built and one day I awoke to a pack of feral babies surrounding my bed. It was only with tremendous bravery that I was able to make it out of that ordeal alive.

So you'll commiserate when I say that taking orders from Baby Jesus made the prospect of heaven less than inviting.

December Massacre

They descended from the north in what was now known to be an annual migration. They infiltrated homes and attacked numerous places of business and seemed to be standing on every street corner. There was no escape.

It was called Christmas, and the invaders were all fat, old men dressed in red and riding on sleighs pulled by flying reindeer. They especially preyed on the children, who were more susceptible to their bloody attacks.

When they finally retreated to their Arctic home, they left behind nearly total devastation. Their ritualistic sacrifice of baby Jesus was the worst part of all.