7 days. 2 sunsets viewed along winding southern roads. 20 hours behind the wheel. 17 hours of Pearl Jam. That was my Christmas, and I loved just about every minute of it. It was a bit different, mostly in good ways. I did not decorate the house. I decided to forgo my annual reminiscing over my collection of ornaments and the memories I've attached to them. I consolidated my shopping list. I did not agonize over finding the right gift for a significant other. I did last minute shopping with my sister and giggled with my nephews. I ran Lake Hollingsworth on Christmas Eve. I helped my grandmother cook dinner. I read books to my cousins' children. I took a much needed road trip to visit family in South Carolina and thoroughly enjoyed my southern roots there. I read a self-help book. And then there was the Pearl Jam. It was delightful. Now I'm gearing up for what will be a very different New Year's celebration and cannot wait to see how that will unfold. I truly believe that...

“This is the best Christmas ever…yep, ever!” “How did they know you wanted that?” “This is the best Christmas! I finally get my first Christmas present!” We had our “party” yesterday. The students all thought they were selected to take a test for the state. As they sat there with their pencils ready, the pizzas arrived. Then the chips. Then the cokes. Then the presents. I can’t remember ever seeing smiles as broad as these. Some kids tore into their gifts. Others wanted to keep them wrapped so they had something to open Christmas morning. I cannot begin to explain exactly how it felt to witness such a display. We all dug deep into the wells of our souls, both to give and receive. I know for a fact that one girl had not ever received a gift before that moment. (She screamed when she heard she was getting a stocking filled with candy.) One boy ran around the room chomping pizza and telling us, “I don’t know how you made this happen, but thank you.” Another girl literally stopped breathin...