We make Christmas into something it is not and wonder why it disappoints.

The vulnerability of the Virgin still dispels distortions that we would create about her Son. He is not a figure of myth nor the creation of dogma. He is a man born to a woman, living in poverty.

Our hearts cannot stay home. While they yet beat, they will wander and pine. They will brood. We cannot rip them from our breasts.

If regret harries you, Christ is seeking you. Lay down the remorse. Embrace the redeemer. Let all losses be restored, all sorrows end.

Yes, your hopes might be frustrated, but that is better than trying to extinguish hope in God.

In death, what we thought was lost is, wondrously, restored to us. What we feared could never be accomplished is achieved.

We have every reason to be worried and fearful of the modern world, but it is not the spirit of Christ that inflames us with odium.

Jesus did not simply speak of a life to come. He revealed such a life and gave us a glimpse of it when he rose from the dead.

Now imagine what God’s love, after this life, can do to transform you.

What began here on earth is lost, mostly without a trace. But who looks for the seed that died when the mighty tree raises its leafed branches to the sky?