The first Christmas letter (humor or folklore?)

Zikes! What a year! Joseph forgot to make reservations at the Bethlehem Inn (his carpentry projects arent the only thing made out of wood!). So they stick us in this stable full of stale hay and stinking animals and guess what???

I go right into labor. My OB doc said: Make the trip.

Anyway, we have a new baby boy that we think is truly special. But its been a madhouse ever since!

First, we couldnt agree on a name. Joe likes Emmanuel – Im holding out for Jesus. In the middle of the argument all the animals in the stable start talking and taking sides!

Next, all these shepherds stopped by to gawk (as if the smell wasnt bad enough). And, since this is Josephs hometown, the whole mishpuka seemed to drop in.

You wouldnt believe his weird cousin John! All the time he babbles about logos and kerygma and a whole bunch of stuff thats just plain Greek to me.

Then theres a Stella, (or is it Quelle?) who keeps asking me to write down everything the kid says, word for word – like hes talking already.

I tell you, it felt like there were 5,000 relatives around and me with only a few cloves and knishes to feed them.

We also seem to be attracting religious pilgrims. Ever try to fend off one of them Druids for Istar when youre busy doing laundry? At least those three camel jockeys brought gifts.

We cant get a good nights sleep with that stupid star shining through the cracks in the ceiling, and every store in town is sold out of swaddling. And then it seemed every time I went to feed the boy a half-dozen Renaissance painters would show up wanting to sketch the procedure.

I finally sent Joe out for bottles and formula.

When it came time for the Briss there was such a Hoo-Haw I couldnt believe it! Picketers! There were Picketers with signs saying, Dont mutilate Hebrew men! And some were chanting, Circumcise your hearts! Yeech.

Well, got to go! Joseph had another one of his goofy visions so I guess were off to Egypt. This time, I make the reservations! Maybe well spend a spell in India instead.

All my love, Mary

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