I’ve been hauling quite a bit of freight throughout the Mid South region in recent weeks. Its during the inevitable long stretches of road that the mind wanders. The highway crosses the landscape, curving lazily around clumps of forest shaped like giant evergreen puzzle pieces. The sun’s descent toward the horizon is punctuated with an amazing array of fluorescent pink and orange hues on the clouds overhead — an artful touch from the palate of God.

Classical Christmas music fills the truck, much of it consisting of man’s finite attempt to understand and reflect that which is infinite. They call it, “the Christmas spirit,” a phrase I’ve heard since I was a child, back when it seemed more contagious. Lately though, it seems easier to catch a cold. Why is that?

Is it the pace of events? Next month, I will officially be old enough to order off the senior citizen menu. Coincidentally, it seems that time itself has put a heavy foot on the accelerator. Wasn’t it a couple weeks ago that we were handing out candy to exotically dressed children to whom “Trick or Treat,” is synonymous with “hand it over?” For that matter, it seemed like only a few days ago that Shelley and her Mom stayed up until the wee hours of the morning in preparation to welcome one and all into our home for an all-day-and-into-the-night Thanksgiving feast? And aren’t we going to do the same thing on Christmas? And won’t people be trooping in and out all day and into the evening on New Year’s too? Surely, I kept thinking, there’s got to be more to the holidays than just multiple occasions to exhaust oneself, right? I mean, I don’t need a holiday for that … I wear myself out nearly every day of the year thanks to my line of work.