The Laughing Wolf

Merry Christmas!

Saturday at the Laughing Wolf is a day for food for thought, and Christmas makes that even more important. For there is a great deal of food for thought available on this day.

If you are a Christian, then this day is a celebration. It is a celebration of a birth, of one being born so that they might die and in so doing take on the sins of the world. The birth of a death, so that death itself might die. The birth of a gift.

Therein lies the heart of the day: the giving. It is not the getting, but the giving that is important. The amount and size of material things does not matter, for what is truly important this day are the gifts of the heart.

Even as we converse in this forum, Americans are giving the gift of freedom to the world. The Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Shadow Warriors, Intel Weinies, and heck, even the Air Force, are doing what is needed so that we share this day in peace (relative at any rate) with our friends and family, and are bringing the opportunity for peace and democracy to dark places in the world. They too give their lives so that others may live, and I recommend you get some tissues and go read this by Major Dad. As we celebrate today in whatever fashion pleases, take a moment and include in your thoughts all those who serve – in uniform or out – and most especially to those brave souls who have given their lives for that cause. Remember them all, remember their families who serve by wait and keep the home fires bright. To all of you, you have my profound thanks, and best wishes for the day and for whatever holiday you keep. May the light shine on you all.

As for me, right now I am in a quandary. You see, I am not sure what it is that I have given this year. Yes, I have done little things, from the giving of food to grouting a tub, but from my side of the balance I have done nothing to deserve what I have gotten:

I have been given this year a family, and that is one of the greatest gifts of all. I’ve talked about my cousins before, but it is time you met them. Mr. C and I have known each other for years, and though we can be night and day on some things, we’ve also decided that we may have been separated at birth. We are distant relatives, but that is very distant and can’t explain how we can finish each other’s sentences and know what the other is going to do even before they do it. His lovely wife, KiltBaby, is a treat and we share some common interests and an uncommon curiosity and passion for digging things up. Their son, Clara’s Boy, is a growing boy who may yet make it to being a man. I call him Clara’s Boy for two reasons. First, his real name makes for a very bad joke if I use my normal encryption on it. A very bad joke. Second, he really is Clara’s Boy. He is supposed to, and sometimes remembers to, empty her litter box. From her viewpoint, however, his prime function is to provide the two meat pillows upon which she likes to spend the night – that’s right, she likes to sleep and/or hold court on his rump and he does serve that office with distinction. I have not heard Clara say “Boy, pit me an olive” yet but would not be surprised if she did. And, of course, there is Clara.

This year, when things did not go well and I discovered that someone was using my stuff at the Suburban Lodge, they took me into their house and home. I cannot begin to say how much I appreciated that, loved it, and enjoyed it. They opened their hearts to me and were family in a way that transcended closer blood ties or even what some of much closer blood would have ever bothered to do. Thank you is not enough, but it is all I have and I as I have a home with them, so too do they with me.

I was reminded this year yet again of family that is not blood, but more than blood. Why the Borzoi and the English Werewolf have put up with me for so many years, I honestly do not know, but I appreciate it more than I can say. From a helping hand in a figurative sense to a literal helping hand with the move, they have been there for me. They are blood of my blood in every way that truly counts and I so name them now. Friends, blood, heirs – they are people with whom I trust with more than my life, but very literally my death and know that both are safe with them.

My friendship with C, mentor and friend, continues to grow. Bless you dear lady, for putting up with me.

I have also been given the gift of friendship, and cherish those I have met this way. Tammi, you (and your Mom) are one of the best presents for which a man could wish. A good friend, confidant, advisor, and more.

Another such gift this year was getting to meet Jim of Parkway Rest Stop at the Georgia Bloggerfest. That visit was all too brief, and introduced me to some other wonderful people, but Jim is why I went for even such a short time. Correspondence is nice, but it was great to get to meet you in person. I also got to meet up formally with Michael Mealling of Rocket Forge.

By phone, I’ve gotten to spend some time with Ironbear, DaGoddess, and even a small amount with my Blogfather Joe Katzman. Each are people I want to meet with in person as soon as possible.

By e-mail I’ve gotten to know still others, among them Momma Bear and Kathy at On The Third Hand, and Kathy has done a fantastic job with work on the site. Consider this the periodic reminder to hire her. I’ve enjoyed some words with Blackfive, Val, been honored by the fact that Sgt. Hook not only reads, but comments as well, and through Tammi I’ve gotten to “meet” Teresa, Boudicca, VW, and more. There are others I should mention here, but time grows short and breakfast calls, so your forgiveness I ask. Know that all of you are important to me.

What awaited under my tree this morning? A gift of love and friendship that I have done nothing to earn. Then again, that is part of the point, for it is a gift freely given and not earned. Friendship and love are given, never demanded. Respect and trust are earned. Think on that this day, and think of the gift you can give that matters the most.

LW