The Magical Season  Well, we made it, little man!  Your fifth Christmas was our first as a father and son affair.  I can still rewind the previous years’ celebrations quite readily.  Each one was special because you made them so.    This one was marked by the blessed absence of a particular darkness.  I’m not so much referring to a person as much as a mood.  The Lord lifted that burden from our new home, but made it clear that I would have to guard my own heart against it.  We only had six hours on Christmas Eve, but that was enough, wasn’t it?  You definitely understood the concept of presents this year, and they were all for you.  I was grateful for the Legos inspiration.  They were your obvious favorite this year.  Mine were the pajamas.  You seemed pretty cozy in them and at your age, cozy is a very good thing.  It occurs to me that this is my fiftieth Christmas season; quite a milestone, as I round out my half-century.  The first ten, as much as I recall, were magical.  I can’t remember how old I was when my brother and older sister first snuck downstairs to open our presents before dawn.  There was one time where my brother and I got to sleep under the tree because dad had painted our bedroom that year.  Maybe you and I could do that when you’re a bit older.    There was a time before you were born that Christmas stopped being special to me.  It’s only been these last few years that I realized what I almost lost.  Thanks for helping me reclaim it.  I hope we get an opportunity to enjoy a Christmas with my brother and two sisters, so you can hear the full version of those stories and more.  They are yours to inherit, as you make your own over the next several years.    Merry Christmas, Little GUN!  GDAD