[guest post by Dana]

It couldn’t be this close to Christmas without someone causing a stir about Christianity. Consider the claim of former Southern Baptist Convention president Charles Stanley’s son:

“If somebody can predict their own death and resurrection, I’m not all that concerned about how they got into the world,” Andy Stanley said in a Dec. 4 sermon at North Point Community Church, which draws 36,000 attendees across six locations in suburban Atlanta. “Christianity doesn’t hinge on the truth or even the stories around the birth of Jesus. It hinges on the resurrection of Jesus.”

(Oh bother. If both the virgin birth and resurrection did not take place (as God said it would), then God wouldn’t have been God. Further, without the virgin birth, there wouldn’t be the Son of God, and without the Son of God, there wouldn’t be the Savior, and without the Savior, we’re all screwed and might as well throw in the towel.)

Then there’s this bit of amateurish Christmas trolling by Mathew Dowd of ABC News:

Immigrants. Mangers. It would have been helpful if the Chief Political Analyst had actually read some source material beforehand:

Luke 2New American Standard Bible (NASB)

2 Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all [a]the inhabited earth. 2 [b]This was the first census taken while [c]Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. 4 Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, 5 in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child. 6 While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a [d]manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

On a serious note, as Christians celebrate the birth of the Divine Love, here is a beautiful story about a 73-year romance, and the wife who is readying herself to say good-bye to her husband who is receiving end-of-life care:

For 73 years — through wars in Europe and Asia and civil rights battles at home, through the assassination of a president and the rise of rock-and-roll — they shared a bed.

He’d be gone sometimes, flying missions during World War II and the Korean and Vietnam wars, but he always came back to her.

So now, as he lies in a hospital bed unable to say or do much, she lies beside him.

Like many hospitals, Fort Belvoir Community Hospital, where retired Army Col. George Morris, 94, is receiving end-of-life care, allows family members to sleep in a patient’s room on a foldout couch. But for George’s wife, Eloise, 91, a cancer survivor who has suffered two broken hips and a broken shoulder, that would be hard.

So the hospital made a special exception when they admitted him this month: They admitted her as a patient, too — a “compassionate admission,” their doctor calls it. Standard rooms are normally private, but Eloise’s hospital bed was rolled in and pushed up against George’s — a final marriage berth for a husband and wife who met as teenagers in rural Kentucky in the late 1930s.

May Col. Morris’s passage from this life to the next be peaceful, and may God keep Eloise enveloped in His love.

Finally, if you’re looking to add a little more merry to your Christmas celebration, consider making what is supposedly George Washington’s eggnog recipe:

“One quart cream, one quart milk, one dozen tablespoons sugar, one pint brandy, pint rye whiskey, pint Jamaica rum, pint sherry — mix liquor first, then separate yolks and whites of 12 eggs, add sugar to beaten yolks, mix well. Add milk and cream, slowly beating. Beat whites of eggs until stiff and fold slowly into mixture. Let set in cool place for several days. Taste frequently.”

Talk about a jingle-bell rock!!

–Dana

[guest post by Dana]

Interesting take on Donald Trump’s selection for secretary of state:

Nine years ago, I showed up to the Denton County Courthouse for jury duty and got myself picked for the job. A young girl had accused her mom’s boyfriend of sexual assault, and the case was being brought to trial.

If you’ve ever served on a jury trial before, you understand the almost immediate yet very temporary bond that ties 12 strangers together who are randomly chosen from each of their private lives to fulfill a solemn public purpose.

One of our first tasks was to choose our jury foreman. Perhaps it was his business suit, his impressive stature, or his charisma, but almost everyone in that jury room suggested that this middle-aged man with graying hair was likely the most fit for the task.

Thanks, but I decline. I’m not interested in the spotlight, he told us. I didn’t think anything of it.

In her straight-forward description of the experience, the writer makes clear that she did not vote for Trump, nor is her story an endorsement of Tillerson’s nomination. It is simply a personal narrative of time spent with a man that the author saw as polite, patient and humble.

Read the whole thing.

–Dana