I do not feel moved by the birth of Christ, the Savior Son, seperated as we were at birth by several thousand years. Even Santa whom I love for his wh...te beard, big belly, and ‘ho! ho! ho!’ the spitting image of God, seems like a figment of my imagination. Ian has left me an invitation, anyway. A chance to go to Christmas Mass, sing in praise of everything I cannot put real words to and oh! I love it so! I love him, I really do, but I wish he weren’t such as a church-goer. I am terribly afraid. You're beautiful, Little One," Joe murmured just loud enough to be heard."You did us proud, my love," murmured Marta.Each kissed her after their praise. Margie's smile glowed. "It's easy getting sentimental," she responded. "I'm losing my edge."They laughed. Joe whispered, "You will always have those dark places in the soul. We all do. If you want you can borrow mine." Maybe later. I'm way too happy." She hugged Joe and Marta and bounced off his lap and onto her chair. Food piled onto her plate. More

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