Everything blog-worthy here — Urban Meyer's schizo routine, Craig James getting MIke Leach suspended, even the impending Texas-'Bama Armageddon — can wait for now. Right now, I'd like to just post a little about Christmas, and what it means to me.
Know what all these pictures have in common? They're pictures of me, obviously ... with my family.
See, I've been incredibly blessed in this life. In nearly 29 years on this Earth, I've called eight different towns "home" at one point or another, and that doesn't account for the number of different houses where I've slept and received mail. Each time I've had to move, it's been kind of a bummer — after all, moving is an unbelievable pain, and relationships change so much with each change of address.
But the upshot has been a number of lasting relationships, the sort of things I can't really even put into words. "Family" is more than just blood relations, after all — with each new town and each new story, there's an addition to the family (and in some fantastic cases, members of our extended family give birth to new members, which is awesome).
And that's what Christmas offers me — a chance to worship, as well as a chance to re-connect with my extended family. God has truly put in my way some fantastic people, the shoulders upon which I stand.
Thus, one last Merry Christmas to you all. Back with more later.
(One last note: my wife finally decided to get in on the blogging act. Please visit, follow and comment frequently. She can definitely use your encouragement.)
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