On Tuesdays I send a short email newsletter to folks in my church, and it includes a small thought for the day. This is an expanded version of this week's thought:

I am a Christmas day traveler. Since I’ve been in ministry I have led Christmas Eve services, and that means if I want to see my family in Missouri for Christmas I travel on Christmas day. Before you think I’m feeling sorry for myself, know I really don’t mind it at all. I have eaten Christmas lunches in airports and truck stops, but it’s no big deal. The roads are quiet and people are nice. The open roads and the emptier airports are a welcome respite after a month of crowded stores and full schedules. I can't remember if it was Cleveland or Pittsburgh, but it was an airport between connecting flights, and I ordered an orange juice to go with my slice of pizza for lunch. The clerk waved me off when I tried to pay. "It's Christmas," he said, and the juice was free. Something on Christmas day changes people. Doors are held open and strangers at rest stops wish each other "Merry Christmas."

The open interstate is a quiet gift on Christmas morning, where it’s just me and the road and the knowledge that a loving family is waiting for me at the end of the road. More than that is the gentle assurance that no matter how unsure life becomes, I still know God sent a love letter to us in this child we celebrate, a love letter with no expiration. And that knowledge I carry in my heart wherever the road takes me.