I get a lot of Christmas cards in the mail. I don’t deserve them because I’m a terrible sender of cards. I have intentions-to-send-out-cards that are older than Methuselah but that means bumpkis if the cards never get mailed.

Truth is, mine never get written. They’re all stuck in the closet inside my head. I mean, the words of hope and joy and kindness and Ho, Ho, Ho are stuck there. The cards? Well, they’re actually still on the shelf at Walmart because not only have I not sent the cards, but neither have I bought the cards.

Not much chance that my good intentions are going to improve.

So, I’m taking the cheater’s way out. I’m pretending that this blog/story of mine is a Christmas card. On the front is a snowy scene set somewhere among the Georgia pines. A quiet creek makes a dark path amid the white covered woodland floor.

There’s a boulder on the far bank of the creek. Mr. and Mrs. Raccoon are waving. Little Jr. Raccoon has both thumbs in his ears with his fingers held high like deer antlers. He has really small fingers, so you have to look hard to see it. And what you can’t tell from this snapshot is that in the next frame, Mrs. Raccoon swats Jr. for poking fun at the camera.

In the foreground, just to the left edge, you can see the open outline of an American Holly. The berries are as bright red as you’ve ever seen. There’s a male and female cardinal sitting among the branches. The dark green foliage is tipped with just a dusting of snow.

Just outside the frame is a kid with a BB gun, but we won’t talk about that. It would ruin the mood.

Back further into the woods and over the left shoulder of Mr. Raccoon is a log cabin. The tall pines around it appear like columns of a grand cathedral. The trees are far enough apart so you can see the front porch and the warm glow of light coming through the front window, but close enough to make it appear as if there’s a ceiling of evergreen boughs.

Even though the woodland floor is completely white, if you look closely, you can see little tufts of sedge and blue stem poking up through the snow here and there. There’s an old dead treetop in the distance, the tip of it lying in the snow like the skeleton of a great whale.

Off to the right of the cabin, there’s a woodshed. It appears to be mostly full. Some of the split wood has spilled out beyond the sheltered roof and is covered in snow. The double-sided axe is stuck in the chopping block waiting for the next round.

What I like about this card is that it’s so dang peaceful. There’s smoke coming from the chimney that you can still see in the twilight. A few candles in the windows. Just the hint of a Christmas tree in what must be the far back corner of the front room. And a lighted wreath on the front door.

This is the kind of place away from all the craziness of life. Here, in these woods, there are no long checkout lines at the box store. There are no crazy office parties with people who are not necessarily your closest friends. There’s no angst about Christmas in this place.

This is the kind of place you can sit by the fire with a good book and your favorite beverage. You can turn out all the lights except the Christmas tree and get lost in the wonder of the season. Inside that front room you can relax in the quiet, and you can almost hear the animals shuffling around the manger from 2000 years ago. You can see men kneeling in admiration.

And you start to think about all the people who mean something to you.

On the inside of this card is a message. It’s not a long message or necessarily an inspired message. You’ve seen it before inside hundreds of Christmas cards. There’s no card writer out there winning a Pulitzer for coming up with this one. It’s so unoriginal that nobody can remember when it was ever original.

“Wishing you a very Merry Christmas,” it says.

That’s it. Like I said, we’ve all seen it before. Merry blah, ba-blah, ba-blah, ba-blah. Woopie!

But don’t tinkle in my Christmas grits too soon. “Wishing you a Merry Christmas”, I think, still has some meaning to it. There’s something here that is worth saying over and over again, every year from now to the end of time.

Which is kind of why we send the cards.

I wish, first of all, for the Child of Christmas to watch over you this season and all the other seasons of life. We all need a little help and mercy.

I wish for those of you sitting in hospital waiting rooms or in ICU units with the constant beeps of machines to know that you’re not alone or forgotten. Christmas is a tough time to be where you are.

I wish for those of you who might be on the verge of letting important relationships fall apart, that you unwrap huge boxes of forgiveness and grace and understanding. That somehow you find a way to hold on until the love returns.

I wish for tons and tons and tons of memories and smiles and hugs for those facing their first Christmas alone without the love of their life. For those who know, you just know.

I wish that we all find the voice to sing the carols of Christmas with a little more heart this year.

I wish for way more cups of hot chocolate and quiet evenings sitting under blankets.

I wish for mountains of cookies and an unprecedented amount of angelic strength and enthusiasm for those who spend hours in the kitchen making them.

I wish for laughter. The kind that comes from the heart of child. The kind that makes you feel like if your belly muscles get any tighter you won’t be able to breathe. You remember belly muscles, right? Maybe not. Blame the cookies.

I wish for what seems like impossible things, like peace on earth. Like good will toward all men and women and children of any creed and color and SEC affiliation. Well, not really, on that last part. I mean, Santa does wear a nice Red, black, and white suit. Go DAWGS!

I wish for you that this might be the very best Christmas of your life. That you’ll find old friends. That you’ll cuddle with grandchildren. That you’ll rip the paper right off the boxes because we all know that being careful to save the paper and the bows is a sure sign that you’re the odd one.

I know this is cheating. This is not a real card. There is no creek with a cabin in the snow. And, if you actually think you saw a raccoon waving at you, you might want to see a doctor.

But one thing is real. Very real.

This is me wishing you a very Merry Christmas.