A Southern Christmas ©We are without snow, but not without joy,It’s too hot for a fire, but we possess abundant warmth,When our pennies are tight, we remember the source of true wealth.When our wallets are full, we celebrate the gift of sharing.Maybe we can’t carry a tune, but we sing anyway.We smile when presents arrive from Ohio containing slippers that don’t fit and we wouldn’t wear anyway.We read Mr. Dickens, Clement Moore and watch Ralphie appear in bright pink pajamas.Our family hops in the car for a tour of the Christmas lights.We help little fingers write letters to Santa and don’t give up the truth unless we are forced.There’s no such thing as waking too early on Christmas morning when joyous children race downstairs before sunrise.We possess a treasure of memories which do not fade. Faces we no longer see are never forgotten. Sadness dissolves because we are not alone.We celebrate new memories, and the joy of making them.There’s a good chance the quail on our table came from a delta hunting camp, the biscuit technique from generations back, and the sweet potatoes from outside Vardaman. We’ve nibbled on a fat MSU cheese, scooped out Aunt Lila’s fig preserves, and remember the aroma our grandmother’s pecan pie when she lifted it from the oven.Mistletoe brings kisses…. laughter too.We set out a plate of cookies for Santa and find crumbs the morning.Forty people are not too many for a celebratory Christmas lunch because we have enough to feed a horde of hungry Marines and still send everybody home with leftovers.Our Christmas stockings are probably handmade. Their colors are faded and a stich or two is missing, but they’re ours. They always have been.We sit still when someone says, “And It came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.” The words are carved in our hearts, but we listen anyway.We know what Christmas really means; also, what it does not.Joy to the World, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her king.