Hey Dana Jane

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  • New Year, New Me: Lies We Tell Ourselves Every January

    Ah, the dawn of a new year. A magical time when we collectively agree to lie to ourselves about how much better we’ll be this year. Sure, 2024 Dana might have eaten cookies for breakfast (twice), but 2025 Dana? She’s gonna crush it… starting tomorrow, of course.

    Let’s explore some of the classic resolutions we all make and inevitably abandon by Valentine’s Day.

    1. “I’m going to get fit!”

    Cue the gym membership boom. You’ll proudly strut into the gym January 2nd, head high and water bottle in hand, ready to conquer your fears (and the elliptical). But by January 15th, your gym bag is serving its true purpose: carrying snacks. The treadmill? It’s collecting dust in your Amazon cart.

    2. “I’m eating healthy!”

    Sure, you stocked your fridge with kale and quinoa, but who are you kidding? By week two, that kale will have decomposed into the bag, and you’ll be back to asking the pizza delivery guy if he remembers your name. Because honestly, quinoa is a sidekick, not a meal.

    3. “I’m going to save money!”

    You’ll download all the budgeting apps, make a spreadsheet, and promise to stop spending $7 on lattes. Then Lainey Wilson tickets drop, and suddenly you’re shouting, “TAKE MY MONEY!” The spreadsheet cries softly in the background.

    4. “I’m going to read more!”

    This is the year you’ll tackle War and Peace! Or… you’ll reread Bridgerton because you deserve some historical smut, okay? BookTok will convince you to buy 12 new hardcovers, and by March, they’ll still be unopened. Who needs to read when they look so pretty on the shelf?

    5. “I’m staying organized!”

    You buy a planner with inspirational quotes. It’s color-coded. It’s beautiful. By February, it’s blank except for a coffee stain and a cryptic note about a dentist appointment you probably missed. Marie Kondo would be ashamed.

    6. “I’ll be nicer!”

    You say this every year. Then someone cuts you off in traffic on January 3rd, and you’re yelling, “WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO DRIVE, A GO-KART TRACK?” Maybe next year, champ.

    7. “I’ll stop procrastinating!”

    You’re writing your goals down on January 1st. Then… January 2nd. Then, suddenly, it’s July, and you’re like, “I’ll just try again next year.” Honestly, respect for being consistent.

    The Real Resolution

    Let’s face it: none of us are changing overnight. But that’s okay. Life is messy, and resolutions are just a way to trick ourselves into thinking we have control over it. This year, I’m resolving to laugh more, love more, and stop making resolutions I know I’ll break.

    So here’s to 2025: May our kale stay fresh, our gym bags remain snack-friendly, and our planners catch all our coffee spills. Cheers to another year of trying, failing, and realizing we’re pretty great just the way we are.

  • Goodbye, 2024: Don’t Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out!

    Ah, 2024. You were the year that felt like a bad blind date—full of potential but ultimately a rollercoaster of awkward moments, challenges, and a few surprising victories. Honestly, I don’t know whether to toast to your departure or send you a therapy bill. But here we are, staring down the barrel of a shiny new year. And you know what? I’m feeling… optimistic. (Well, cautiously optimistic. Let’s not tempt fate.)

    Let’s start with the obvious: 2024 was hard. There were days that felt like the universe had set its alarm clock to “chaos” and hit snooze repeatedly. Maybe your plans got derailed. Maybe you faced loss, setbacks, or a growing list of things you swore you’d figure out by July but didn’t even touch. If 2024 were a workout, it was the kind that leaves you sore in places you didn’t even know existed.

    And yet, here we are. We’re still standing. A little bruised? Sure. A little weary? Definitely. But standing nonetheless. So, as we wave goodbye to the year that was, let’s take a moment to celebrate the small wins, the lessons learned, and the fact that we kept going even when it felt impossible.

    Now, as we tiptoe into 2025—like someone testing the waters of a suspiciously cold pool—let’s talk about what we want this year to look like. Personally, I’m shooting for something between “mildly chaotic” and “shockingly productive.” But beyond resolutions and goal-setting, I think the most important thing we can bring into the new year is hope.

    Hope that tomorrow can be better. Hope that we can grow, heal, and find moments of joy even when life feels messy. Hope that the little steps we take—whether it’s learning something new, helping someone in need, or just showing up for ourselves—can lead to big, beautiful changes.

    And if that feels overwhelming, remember: You don’t have to do it all. Some days, the bravest thing you can do is just keep going. That’s enough.

    So, here’s to 2025. May it be the year of second chances, belly laughs, and unexpected triumphs. May we approach it with courage, humor, and just enough coffee to keep us awake for the good stuff.

    And to 2024—thanks for the memories (kind of). You were like a plot twist we didn’t ask for but somehow survived. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

    Happy New Year! Let’s make it a good one.

  • Beyoncé and Country Music: Is It Admirable or Inauthentic?

    Beyoncé took the stage during the halftime show for the Christmas Day game between the Baltimore Ravens and the Houston Texans, performing in her hometown of Houston. Nearly a week later, the performance is still the talk of the town. Reviews are polarizing—while many fans praised her show, others were far less impressed. Let’s dive into the details.

    When Beyoncé steps into the spotlight, she does so with a force that commands attention. From pop to R&B, her artistry has dominated charts and hearts. Recently, Queen Bey has ventured into uncharted territory for her: country music. While her decision to experiment with the genre is undeniably bold, it’s sparked a heated conversation about authenticity, artistry, and the freedom to express personal preferences.

    Let’s start with the obvious: it’s admirable for any artist to explore a new genre. It takes guts to step outside your comfort zone, especially when you’re as globally revered as Beyoncé. Her willingness to experiment shows creativity and ambition, qualities that have undoubtedly earned her the title of Queen Bey.

    But here’s the catch: is Beyoncé’s brand of country music truly authentic to the genre? Country music, at its core, is steeped in storytelling and raw emotion, often drawn from lived experiences in rural America. Some critics argue that her music lacks the authenticity that defines country, feeling more like a pop-country hybrid than a genuine tribute to the roots of the genre.

    And this is where the conversation gets contentious. If you express a less-than-glowing opinion about Beyoncé’s country music, you risk being labeled a “hater.” The discourse has devolved into an “us vs. them” battleground, where dissenting voices are often silenced or shamed. Why does expressing a preference—whether for classic country sounds or a different artist’s interpretation—suddenly mean you’re against Beyoncé?

    The underlying question is this: are we obligated to love Beyoncé’s foray into country just because she’s Beyoncé? Respecting her as an artist is one thing, but liking her music should be a personal choice, not a mandated response. Preferences in music, like any art form, are subjective. You don’t have to love everything Beyoncé does to acknowledge her talent or contributions to the industry.

    At its best, music opens doors for dialogue and connection. Instead of shutting down conversations with accusations of hate, why not embrace the diversity of opinions? There’s room for Beyoncé’s interpretation of country music, just as there’s room for traditionalists to champion the authenticity of artists like Lainey Wilson or Chris Stapleton.

    Beyoncé’s venture into country music doesn’t need to be universally adored to be valid. She’s pushing boundaries and starting conversations, and that alone is worth celebrating. But let’s remember: admiration for an artist doesn’t mean blind allegiance. We’re all allowed to have our preferences, and it’s okay to say, “This isn’t for me.” Beyoncé might be Queen Bey, but that doesn’t mean we have to obey.

    Let’s keep the conversation alive—civilly, authentically, and without fear of judgment. After all, isn’t that what music is all about?

  • The Harsh Reality of Addiction: A Wake-Up Call for Parents

    Addiction is a devastating force that doesn’t just harm the person using—it tears through families, leaving emotional wreckage in its wake. For parents battling substance abuse, the consequences stretch far beyond their own lives, affecting their children in ways that can last a lifetime.

    When addiction takes control, responsibilities fall by the wayside. Nights spent using instead of parenting create a home filled with instability, neglect, and heartbreak. And the ones who suffer the most are the children left behind.

    Addiction’s Impact on Families

    Cocaine and other hardcore drugs don’t just destroy bank accounts and bodies—they destroy relationships. According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA), addiction often leads to erratic behavior, financial instability, and a breakdown in trust. For children living in this environment, these problems are more than just abstract—they define their daily lives.

    Kids of addicts frequently face emotional neglect and inconsistent care. When a parent is consumed by substance abuse, things like helping with homework, showing up for school events, or simply being present for bedtime stories often fall by the wayside. Instead, children are left to navigate a confusing and lonely world, wondering why their parent’s attention is elsewhere.

    A Forgotten Aspect: The Role Reversal

    One heartbreaking aspect often overlooked is the role reversal that occurs in homes where addiction takes hold. Children of addicts often become their parent’s caretaker, nursemaid, defender, and protector.

    It’s not uncommon for these children to:

    • Nurse their parents back to health after hangovers or binges.
    • Feed and care for a parent who is too high or intoxicated to function.
    • Find their parents passed out and ensure their safety.

    These children don’t just take care of siblings—they become the primary caregiver for their entire family. Many even take on jobs to provide for the household because their parents spend money on their addiction instead of necessities like food or bills. In a cruel twist, parents may take the child’s hard-earned money to fund their addiction, forcing the child to hide their earnings in a desperate attempt to keep their family afloat.

    This reversal—becoming a parent to your parent—is one of the most damaging consequences of addiction. It robs children of their childhood, forcing them into roles they’re far too young to handle.

    The Hidden Toll on Children

    The effects of growing up in a home with addiction are profound. Children often experience:

    • Emotional Trauma: Feelings of neglect, abandonment, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.
    • Developmental Delays: Struggles with school, friendships, and trust due to the instability at home.
    • Long-Term Consequences: A higher likelihood of developing anxiety, depression, or substance abuse problems themselves.

    A Call to Action

    For parents battling addiction, it’s critical to understand that the harm extends far beyond their own lives. Addiction creates a ripple effect that impacts every member of the family, especially the most vulnerable ones.

    But it doesn’t have to stay this way. Help is available for those willing to seek it.

    Your children don’t need perfection—they need presence. They need stability, love, and someone who puts their needs above all else. Breaking free from addiction is hard, but the rewards are immense: a better life for you and a brighter future for your children.

    Breaking the Cycle

    If you’re a parent struggling with addiction, remember that every day is an opportunity to make a change. Your children shouldn’t have to carry the weight of your choices—they deserve to be kids, not caregivers. Seek help for yourself and your family.

    Recovery is possible, and resources are available. Don’t wait. Your family’s future depends on it.

    If you or someone you know is battling addiction, reach out today. Because no child should have to be their parent’s parent.

  • Grief, Love, and Moving Forward: Reflecting on a Year of Loss

    As the year draws to a close, it’s natural to reflect on the moments and milestones that shaped us—both the joys and the sorrows. For me, this season marks a year since my dear friend Kena passed away. She was an artist, a teacher, a dancer, and a warrior. Her presence in our lives was a masterpiece, and her absence remains profoundly felt.

    Grief, I’ve come to realize, is the price of deep love. It’s not something you move on from but something you learn to carry. It becomes a part of who you are, shaping your perspective and reminding you of the love and connection that once filled your world. Over time, grief evolves, softening at the edges, but it never diminishes the impact of what mattered most.

    Understanding Grief in Its Many Forms

    Grief often brings to mind the loss of a loved one, as I’ve felt this past year. But it comes in many forms. It could be the grief of a life transition—a relationship ending, a career change, or even the loss of a dream. Some grieve the loss of health, others the passing of time or missed opportunities. Each type of grief carries its unique weight, but they all share a common truth: grief is a reflection of love and attachment.

    Honoring the Journey of Grief

    Allowing yourself to feel grief fully is an act of honor and courage. It’s a way of acknowledging the significance of what was lost and creating space for healing to take root. As I remember Kena, I hold on to the lessons she taught through her artistry, her resilience, and her joy. In doing so, I keep her spirit alive within me.

    Finding Light as We Move Into a New Year

    As we step into the new year, grief reminds us that life is precious. It challenges us to live with intention, to cherish our relationships, and to celebrate the moments we have right now. It teaches us to find beauty in the pain and to carry forward the love that will always endure.

    To those navigating their own grief, know this: You are not alone. Your feelings are valid, your memories are sacred, and your journey is uniquely yours. Grief may change you, but it also deepens your capacity for empathy, resilience, and gratitude.

    As the calendar turns, let’s carry forward the love and lessons from what we’ve lost. Let’s honor our grief, not as something to overcome, but as a testament to the depth of what—and who—has shaped us.

    Here’s to stepping into the new year with open hearts, remembering those who’ve left their mark on our lives, and embracing the strength to keep moving forward.

    We all miss you, Kena.

  • Surviving Mealtime Mayhem: A Culinary Comedy of Errors with Three Boys

    When you have three boys aged 9, 15, and 20, meal planning is less about nutrition and more about survival. If I were to sum it up, feeding my family is like running a restaurant with no menu, picky patrons, and a chef (me) who’s one burnt pancake away from retiring.

    Let’s start with the planning. My 9-year-old, Gannon, has the palate of a raccoon. His preferred menu consists of chicken nuggets, french fries, and a complete refusal to acknowledge that vegetables exist. The 15-year-old, Owen, is deep into the “I’m starving but also I don’t like that” phase, which means he’s perpetually hungry yet inexplicably enraged when dinner is lasagna. My 20-year-old, bless him, actually cooks for himself, and I love that he’s independent. But it’s bittersweet because I’d still love to have nice family dinners around the table instead of cooking and eating in shifts like a diner on a tight schedule.

    The grocery shopping stage is a spectacle that deserves its own reality show. I enter the store armed with a list that could double as a scroll from Game of Thrones. There are nuggets for Gannon, 15 bags of chips for Owen, and bulk chicken breasts and protein powder for Dawson. Add in my own sad little section—kale and a box of tea I’ll forget about until next month—and you’ve got a cart that confuses both the cashier and my wallet. By the time I leave, I’ve spent enough to consider taking out a second mortgage.

    Then comes the real chaos: meal prep. The kitchen transforms into a war zone where no pan is left unscathed, and my patience simmers alongside the spaghetti sauce. I’m simultaneously grilling chicken, boiling pasta, and negotiating with Gannon to try one—just one—green bean. Owen is raiding the pantry for a pre-dinner snack, leaving a trail of crumbs behind him. Dawson is in the background whipping up his own elaborate meal that smells amazing and makes me briefly question if I should just let him cook for all of us.

    When dinner is finally served—at least for those who haven’t already eaten—you’d think there would be peace, but no. Gannon declares the chicken too “chicken-y,” Owen pokes suspiciously at the sauce like it might bite him, and I’m left sitting alone at the table with my kale, dreaming of a world where we could all eat together without complaint.

    And don’t even get me started on the cleanup. By the end of the night, my kitchen looks like it hosted a food fight. I’m left scrubbing pans and vowing to simplify next time—which we all know is a lie.

    So, here’s to all the exhausted parents out there who feel like short-order cooks in their own homes. Feeding three boys isn’t just a task; it’s an extreme sport. And while I dream of peaceful family dinners, I’m learning to appreciate the chaos—and my oldest’s cooking skills—for what they are.

    Pass the wine. And maybe a protein shake for the big one.

  • When It Rains, It Drains…Except When It Doesn’t

    Ah, the holidays! A magical time filled with family, laughter, and…plumbing disasters? Nothing says “Merry Christmas” quite like the sound of your toilet gurgling like it’s auditioning for a role in Jaws.

    Yesterday started innocently enough. Leftover “roast beast” sandwiches for breakfast, wrapping paper still scattered across the floor, and the faint hope of squeezing in a lazy day. But the universe had other plans. When our toilet wouldn’t fully flush, we thought, “Oh, it’s just tired from holiday overuse, like the rest of us.” We ignored it. Because that’s what responsible homeowners do—assume minor inconveniences will fix themselves.

    Then came the shower. As I lathered up with my new lavender-scented body wash (a gift from the kids), I noticed something unsettling: the water was rising, not draining. My relaxing shower had turned into an impromptu wading pool.

    Things escalated when Doug tried to run a load of laundry. Instead of the soothing hum of a washing machine, we were greeted by a bubbling basement drain that looked like it was trying to summon a swamp monster. “Merry Christmas to us,” I muttered, realizing that our plumbing had officially declared war.

    The Call of Shame

    With a sigh heavier than our Christmas dinner portions, The Huz picked up the phone to call a plumber. Of course, it’s the day after Christmas, so the likelihood of finding someone cheerful and available was about as slim as finding leftover eggnog. But we had no choice—our house had transformed into a water-logged funhouse.

    We called our favorite plumbers at Excel. They arrived quickly, armed with not one but two augers, ready to battle the clog. After a valiant effort, though, they had to break the news: no luck. “You’ll need Roto-Rooter,” they said.

    Roto-Rooter came out and got straight to work, sending a camera 160 feet down the line. That’s when we got some good news/bad news.

    Good news: “This isn’t your problem.”Bad news: “The manhole is full. I’m calling the Village of Plover. Bad news is I don’t know how long it will take to fix the issue.”

    I took matters into my own hands and called the Village, leaving what I can only describe as a desperate voicemail: “PLEASE COME QUICKLY. I have boys, and they are full of shit!”

    Less than ten minutes later, a small truck rolled up, followed by the big truck. And just like that, our street turned into a hotbed of action. The Village work crew got straight to it, working to clear the blockage and save us from our plumbing nightmare.

    Homeownership: The Gift That Keeps on Taking

    Owning a home is a joy, isn’t it? One minute, you’re basking in the glow of your Christmas tree; the next, you’re Googling “how to sell a kidney to pay for emergency plumbing repairs.” The irony of being financially “drained” by an actual drain problem is almost too much to bear.

    So here we are, several hundred dollars lighter (thankfully, it wasn’t thousands), with a functioning drain and a newfound appreciation for the phrase “when it rains, it pours.” Except now, we can say, “when it rains, it drains.”

    Lessons Learned

    1. Always save for emergencies, because your pipes don’t care about your holiday budget.
    2. Ignore gurgling drains at your own peril.
    3. Call the plumber as soon as possible! If we’d have waited things would have been so much worse.

    A huge thank-you to Excel, Roto-Rooter, and the Village of Plover work crew for doing everything in their power to fix this mess.

    Happy Holidays from our soggy little corner of the world. May your New Year be merry, bright, and blissfully free of plumbing emergencies!

  • Another Christmas Come and Gone

    Another Christmas has come and gone. Just like that, the wrapping paper is torn and tossed, the cookies are crumbs, and the lights are starting to lose their magic. Every year, I swear I’ll slow down and savor it all, but somehow, 2024 felt especially fast and furious. It’s wild to think the new year is just a week away.

    Time is a thief, isn’t it?

    I look at my boys, and I wonder how they grew up so quickly. One minute they were sitting on my lap, clutching a sippy cup, watching Christmas specials, and the next, they’re towering over me, with their own opinions about life and their own dreams to chase. It’s bittersweet. I love watching them become who they’re meant to be, but I’d give anything to relive those simple moments—just for a day.

    And then there are my parents. Every Christmas with them feels more fleeting. Their mortality weighs on me, not in a sad way, but in a deeply reflective one. It makes me think of my own. I still feel like the kid at heart, caught somewhere between wanting to sleep in on Christmas morning and needing to make everything magical for my family. But now, the torch has been passed, and I’m the one hosting the holidays.

    Me—the holiday matriarch. It feels strange even to write that.

    I catch myself sometimes, standing in my kitchen with flour on my shirt and a ham in the oven, wondering how I got here. When did I become the one keeping the traditions alive, the one making sure the stockings are hung and the cookies are baked? I still feel like the child running around the house, sneaking extra sprinkles on my sugar cookies. And yet, here I am, creating those memories for my boys.

    If I’m honest, it’s overwhelming at times. But it’s also a gift. A reminder that life keeps moving, even when we wish it would pause. It’s a call to hold tight to the moments we have—to look around the room and soak in the laughter, the chaos, and the love.

    As we say goodbye to Christmas and prepare for a new year, I’m reminded that the best we can do is live fully in the time we’re given. To show up, to love deeply, and to embrace every moment—even the messy, complicated ones.

    So here’s to another year gone by and a new one on the horizon. May we find the courage to keep passing the torch, to honor those who came before us, and to cherish the memories we’re making for those who come after.

    Time may be a thief, but we have the power to make it count.

  • Christmas Eve: Roast Beast, Dice Games, and Family Nostalgia

    Christmas Eve at our house this year was a beautiful mix of chaos, laughter, and roast beast (as Gannon insists on calling it). We hosted my parents and siblings, and let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like having a house full of people you’ve known your entire life. The good, the crazy, and the hilarious all come rushing back when we’re together.

    We went all out with the food—roast beef, ham, meatballs, cheesy potatoes, deviled eggs, shrimp, broccoli salad, and a veggie tray. It was the kind of spread that makes you wonder why we don’t eat like this every day. Everyone brought something to the table, literally, except my mom. This year, she didn’t have to. She’s been battling cancer, and for once, I wanted her to just enjoy herself, no casserole dish in tow. Watching her relax and laugh with her grandkids warmed my heart more than any holiday candle ever could.

    Gannon, of course, was thrilled to see his cousins. He rallied the troops for a dice game with Poppa Frank that quickly turned into a miniature riot when they discovered the treasure trove of costumes and toys in the playroom. Our house echoed with the sound of kids laughing, arguing over who got to be the Packers quarterback, and the occasional crash (nothing broke… I think).

    Later, we all piled into the living room to watch Home Alone—a tradition, because no Christmas is complete without Kevin McCallister outsmarting two hapless burglars. We followed it up with Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, one of my dad and brother’s favorites. The living room was a sea of kids, crumb-covered paper plates, and the occasional snoring adult (no names, but you know who you are).

    As the night wound down, I found myself sitting back and taking it all in. Family isn’t perfect. We argue, we annoy each other, and we bring a lifetime of baggage to every holiday gathering. But when it matters, we come together. We set aside our differences, gather around the table, and play dice games with Poppa Frank like we’re kids again.

    This Christmas Eve reminded me that no matter what challenges we face—whether it’s a tough year, a health battle, or just the everyday chaos of life—there’s something magical about family. It’s messy and complicated, but it’s also beautiful.

    So here’s to another Christmas filled with nostalgia, laughter, and love. And here’s to many more nights of roast beast, toy-strewn living rooms, and the comforting chaos of being with the people who know you best.

  • ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas: The Jesus Edition

    Ah, Christmas Eve—a magical time filled with last-minute shopping, wrapping paper chaos, and a fridge stuffed with ingredients you promised would turn into a “Pinterest-worthy” holiday spread. But let’s not forget, amidst all the eggnog and Amazon boxes, the real reason for the season: Jesus’ birthday.

    Let’s rewind about 2,000 years ago. Picture this: A humble stable in Bethlehem. Mary, exhausted but glowing (and possibly questioning why she agreed to this road trip so late in her third trimester), is settling into her makeshift maternity suite. Joseph is frantically Googling “how to assemble a manger” on his stone tablet. Meanwhile, animals are casually photobombing the scene. The original Nativity, folks—raw, unfiltered, and free from Instagram filters.

    Fast forward to today, where we celebrate this momentous occasion by…overspending on electronics and arguing over who forgot to buy the marshmallows for the sweet potatoes. What would Jesus think of all this? Probably that we need a little perspective.

    Let’s talk Christmas Eve traditions:

    1. The Christmas Eve Candlelight Service:
      You dress the kids up, bribe them with candy canes, and pray no one sets their hair on fire. It’s a beautiful reminder of the light Jesus brought into the world—and a lesson in patience when your toddler belts out “Let It Go” during “Silent Night.”
    2. Santa’s Cookies and Milk:
      We leave out snacks for Santa, but let’s give a nod to Jesus, the OG reason for the feast. Maybe a loaf of homemade bread or some fish sticks? Too much? Okay, cookies it is.
    3. The Christmas Story:
      Reading Luke 2 aloud is a must. Sure, you might have to pause to explain words like “swaddling” and “manger” to a roomful of 21st-century kids, but it’s worth it. Bonus points if you make them act it out. Yes, your dog can totally play a sheep.
    4. The Gift Wrapping Marathon:
      Remember how the Wise Men brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh? Joseph probably didn’t roll his eyes and mutter, “Great, more myrrh. Just what we needed.” Take a lesson from them—your gifts don’t have to be perfect, just given with love.
    5. The Midnight Snack Debate:
      At some point, someone will bring out a cheese ball or leftover pie, declaring it’s a “holiday tradition.” It’s fine—Jesus turned water into wine, so I’m pretty sure He’d approve of impromptu feasts.

    The Big Picture:
    Christmas Eve is hectic, messy, and often filled with chaos—but it’s also beautiful. It’s about family, friends, and faith. As you gather around your tree tonight, remember that tiny stable in Bethlehem and the gift that outshines anything Amazon Prime could deliver: the gift of love, hope, and salvation.

    So light your candles, sing your carols, and don’t stress about the burnt sugar cookies. After all, the first Christmas wasn’t about perfection—it was about the perfect gift.

    Merry Christmas, and may your celebrations be as joyful and unexpected as shepherds meeting angels!