Christmas at the Greene house normally resembles Christmas in Who-ville, with gaily wrapped packages piled sky high, decorations in every room, and pots bubbling in the kitchen. Our home is in a constant state of activity. It is a place of joy and abundance. I shop for Christmas year round so we can enjoy an abundant feast and an obscene number of presents. Ok, I am obsessive, but my philosophy is why do it small when you can do it big? Why barbeque a single brisket when you can cook the entire cow?

That is until this year. This year is different. We are celebrating Christmas at my brother’s house. Nothing is the same. Our traditions are packed up along with all of our boxes, ribbons, and bows! The wrappings, the tags and all of the trappings are safely in storage!

We will be moving into our own home soon, but it is eight days before Christmas, nothing is normal and little is familiar. I feel like the Grinch who tried to keep Christmas from coming.

In the corner of the room next to the television sits a small Christmas tree with the few meager decorations we brought with us from Florida. Our Christmas tree angel, a small Santa, two Christmas dolls and a single pair of red furry boots (movie props from The Grinch staring Jim Carey), the sum of our feeble efforts to create some connection with our former Christmases.

As I sit here sipping my peppermint tea watching the tree and admiring the "Who boots." I plead, “Lord, since my shoes aren’t too tight, please keep my head screwed on right.” Our daughters (nine and six) say they understand, but on Christmas morning when they awake I know just what they'll do!

"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
and then they will cry BOO-HOO!"

"That's a noise, I don’t want to hear!"

I pause and raise a prayer, that Christmas morning I will be surprised! That Christmas will come just the same. Without our ribbons, without tags! Without packages, boxes or bags! Because maybe Christmas "does'nt come from a store! Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means just a little bit more."