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It's Christmas in Pittsburgh!

I greeted Christmas wistfully. Andre and I wanted to create our own traditions. So, this year we didn't stay over at my parents' home Christmas eve.  We didn't wear our matching red pajamas and I didn't wake up surrounded by my family. 

The baby remains on her own schedule.  While she has been captivated by the shiny paper, the lights and bells, she has been blithely unaware of the holiday season.  She appears to be as amused as she was on her birthday.  She thinks it's fun, but doesn't seem to know what all of the fuss is about.

Of course the adults understand that the fuss is about the Baby Jesus and our own little baby.  And like the wise men before us, we showered the baby with lots of gifts.

It might sound like an idyllic Christmas, but this is Chaton's World and not a fairy tale.  So, this tale has a twist.

We had a different sort of Christmas. Last year, I woke up Christmas morning the way that I have my whole life--in my parents' home wearing red pajamas like my mother and sister.  Last year was different though. Andre and the baby joined me and they had their own pajamas. It was sweet.

This year, Andre wanted to start our own tradition. So, we slept at home on Christmas Eve.  However, unless our tradition is waking up late, delaying opening gifts and doing housework we didn't establish our own tradition.  Instead, Christmas seemed like any other Sunday and not a particularly nice one. 

I was disappointed. I had expectations. I know that I am highly evolved, but I began to think that "This Christmas sucks." 

It is a thin line between disappointment and ungrateful and I almost crossed it.

I'd like to say that thought lasted only momentarily.  However, it lasted a couple of hours.  Even while that thought was resonating with me I felt guilty.  The notion of Christmas sucking offended my Christian sensibilities.

I was right.  That feeling was an affront to my blessings.  I began to realize that just because our Christmas did not conform with my cinematic dreams did not mean that it was not blessed.  It just took me some time to realize it.

Here is what I realized...

My entire family celebrated Christmas together safe and sound.  Andre and I are employed, a huge blessing in this economy.  We have a home full of love.  Our energy bills are paid. The appliances work.  And we like each other, we REALLY like each other!  We have everything we need and most of what we want, including money to buy presents.  Also, we spent Christmas Eve attending my parents' annual party.

God is good and so is our life.

Once I reflected on what we have instead of on what I wanted I felt better. I felt blessed. And I felt happy.  At 9:00PM after dinner and presents I think that I finally got it.  Any Christmas that I spend with my family is a good one.  I hope that I never forget that again!

I know that I sound like friggin' Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz", but I do feel like I clicked my heels together and found the truth. 

Don't worry though, I have not become sanctimonious.  Tomorrow I will likely have a relapse.  But please bare with me.  Life is an exercise in living.  And I remain committed to learning the necessary lessons.  I just can't promise you that I will get the lessons the first time.  I'll continue to share my journey with you though.

And at the risk of being politically incorrect, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!" 

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