Sometime after midnight the Christmas Eve I was nine, I heard my father say to my mother, “I can't do this. The directions (the infamous some-assembly-required-directions) don't make sense, some of the parts are missing and I have two other toys to assemble tonight.”

I was hiding at the top of the stairs. It's what I did and I was very good at it. The words crushed me. Four little words that changed me forever. “I can't do this.” He was my hero, he was my protector, he could do anything. What was I supposed to do now? Rats. Childish understanding.

This Christmas I am sixty-two. On Christmas Eve I will sit at the top of the stairs. It's what I do and I'm very good at it. I will listen for the voice of my Father. Sometime before dawn He will say, “I can do this. There are others who require My attention tonight, but I will stay here with you as long as you need Me.”

I will believe Him. He is my Hero. He is my Protector. He can do anything.

The child in me has been put away. Sometimes I miss that boy. But the man I have become clearly understands that we all require some assembly, and that Jesus always gets it right.

Merry Christmas, Dad.

Prayer: Thank You, Lord. Enough said. Amen.

Richard D. Leonard