Every night, as I walk my dog, I like to number the stars. I think of each one as a special message of love from my Heavenly Father to me. And each night, I count an additional star for a blessing I’ve received that day.
I love so many things about Arizona, but I’ve been having trouble getting into the Christmas spirit, because it just doesn’t look like Christmas. There are no scarves or sweaters, snow shovels or rock salt, and I’m still wearing flip-flops. Not much has changed here since summer cooled to fall.
(For proof, see the very scientific illustration below)
But the frozen sanctity of a white Christmas, which I was sure I’d have to give up this year, is saved by the combined generosity of Mom and Gramma. As we speak, I’m on the phone with my mom arranging my flights home for Christmas. My head is spinning so much with holiday-flavored gratitude that there’s not even enough room for the traditional visions of sugar-plum fairies!