As a writer, I’ve been off my rhythm this last month. I haven’t been as dedicated to my goals, or targets, or publishing deadlines, or whatever it is I’m supposed to call it.

This is the bain and blessing of being an almost famous writer with a band of loyal followers who sympathize and who have very small expectations. I can write if I feel like it, or I can muddle through the holidays with very little to say.

The truth is, I haven’t had much to say. And even if I had conjured up something worth saying, I don’t think I would have felt like writing it all down.

I’ve been sick since December 5th and I’m not over it yet. I passed it on to Marion who ended up with something the Doc called a bilateral infection of every physical cavity related to the basic functions of breathing and hearing.

We both pushed through the week of Christmas with all the usual fanfare. Lots of family. Lots of excellent food, and cookies, and candies. Just some of the best times one could hope for with all the loved ones in life.

Despite all the coughing and rib-ripping hacking, it was a great Christmas this year.

With all the kids gone, Marion and I finally had a quiet evening to ourselves. We sat on the couch together. Toasted a small cup of NyQuil to one another. We didn’t speak much for fear of starting a coughing frenzy.

It was a good feeling to end the busy holidays together. We were asleep by 9pm. Just two whipped pups who ran out of gas.

I will say that one of the great experiences of the Christmas season has been the time spent with the grandkids. They’re growing up a little bit, I reckon. Not as fussy as they used to be. More personality. More charm. More energy.

I got involved in throwing the football. I became a near expert with radio controlled cars. I learned more about Star wars, and hamsters, and make up, and types of art paint, and firetrucks, and scratch-off tickets, and LEGOs than I ever thought possible.

I’m also teaching them to drive the golf cart. The oldest is driving solo. She’s like the lead driver who gives rides to the rest of the crew.

When she wasn’t around, the younger ones were sitting with me taking turns behind the steering wheel. I don’t let them operate the gas pedal just yet.

“Gentle turns,” I say. “Don’t over steer.”

“I’m going straight ain’t I?”

Dorothy is asking for approval.

“Not exactly.”

“One more turn and I can drive by myself, right Grandpa.”

She says this as we nearly clip the bark off a pine tree and swerve toward the gully on the other side of the driveway.

“I think you’re gonna need more practice.”

“When am I gonna be ready? Tomorrow?”

“You can’t rush perfection, darling. I’ll let you know when you’re ready.”

They’re already scheming about working out another visit to Grandpa’s house to practice their driving skills.

Say a prayer will ya.

I think what I got for Christmas this year is a sense of how much life has changed. How nothing stays the same no matter how much we may want it to remain true to our past.

This was nothing like any Christmas past. Yet all the Christmases of both our pasts were a part of this one.

Some things blend. Some things don’t. We recognize and honor the years and loved ones gone by. We embrace and celebrate the new reality. We try our best to do it all with grace, and we do what we can in love and in the trust that God works all things together.

Even Christmas.

Please, please, please enjoy the remainder of this holiday season. Some of you are working. Some of you are goofing off until after New Years. School, work, and routine will return all too soon.

So, take stock of the things you value, the people who really matter in your life. Look hard at just one new dream for yourself. Let forgiveness and love enter every relationship. Make time to do the important stuff before time slips away.

I’ll get my writing act together soon. I’m headed to the Doc this afternoon. Third time this month.

So, until next time…hack, hack, hack… Happy New Year to everyone.