The Old Man felt the temperature drop. He could feel it in his bones. Old Bones feel the cold more. The Christmas Woods were quiet except for their inhabitants. Winter is just the time for sleep. The time of joy was coming. The time of the Peacemaker. The time of the lion and the lamb. Chill factors below 0 require woolen pajamas and warm house shoes.

We seek that which we have lost. We seek home. We are unmoored and feel unwanted because we have lost our home. The place that connects us to society. The place that links us to others. Our Sanctuary of rest, thought, and sense of place. No matter how much we travel, there is no place like home.

Our nation is in a quandary and a battle over the home. Who shall be home in the United States? Are we the Great Experiment where we are the Home for the Homeless? ‘With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.’

So many ships are untethered. They are not secured to the boat dock. The cold winter wind blows hard, tossing the boats about. The lake wind is bitterly cold. How will the boaters have Christmas dinner if they can not stay secure to the dock? The cookery will break in the confusion. Confusion breeds discontent and worry.

‘Come to the Christmas Feast,’ Mr. Toad cried aloud. ‘We are having figgy pudding and roast goose,’ Mr. Toad laughed and danced. ‘All are welcome, no one shall be left out,’ Mr. Toad proclaimed. ‘It has been a difficult year with many seeking a Home,’ Mr. Toad said with a tear in his eye. ‘They have been told that they were not wanted and to go back to where they came from,’ Mr. Toad said sorrowfully. ‘They have been fired for no cause and given no reason,’ Toady noted. ‘They were told they were not the right color as if love has a color,’ Toady said softly. ‘I am green as all of my ancestors were…we are a proud green from a proud lineage,’ Toady said as he pulled out a cigar. ‘We shall smoke Christmas cigars and pop Christmas Poppers and pray for all, including the president who says we are from ‘Shit Hole Countries,’ Toady said with some holiday cheer. ‘We will follow the example of Bob Cratchit and pray for Mr. Scrooge,’ Toady noted.