This morning, Katy Jo began crying at 6:20 AM – a wakeup time that is a sign of Christmas mornings to come, I’m sure. Weary from only six hours sleep (not from waiting on Santa, but rather a late Christmas Eve viewing of True Grit), I groaned and rolled out of bed. Starbucks coffee in the maker, eggnog for creamer, fire in the fireplace (even in Houston, I believe it is cold enough outside). My parents came to Houston and joined Leigh’s family for the festivities. We watched my two nieces squeal with delight at the candy and crayons in their stocking and the assortment of new dolls – “It’s waterpoof!” – that soon lay scattered on the living room floor. Nice shirts, a Pierce Pettis c.d., a DVD, a Greg Garrett book and a brand new hiking backpack (with a place for Katy Jo). Good gift-giving-and-receiving had by all.

Holding to the tradition in Leigh’s family, we enjoyed a breakfast of crepes, bacon and sausage. And now, as I sit and type this short post, there is more kitchen creativity afoot. A feast is in the works. It is fitting, of course, for today is a feast day in the Christian year. The most important of feast days, some might argue, or one of the two most important.

Whatever you eat today, be it a turkey dinner, barbecue, leftovers, or quick pickup from Whataburger, treat it like the feast that it most definitely is. I’m not sure why food consumption has always corresponded to celebration, but since I’m such a fan of eating, I’m certainly not complaining. I suppose it’s not so much what you’re eating, but the fact that to eat is to be filled. We are lucky to have such opportunity to be filled. Let us not let the wonder of it pass us by.