It’s been two years since I wrote Santa and the world’s still in a sorry state …

This past weekend, as I ruminated over what I’d write today, I remembered a post I wrote exactly two years ago. It was a time of hostage-takings and beheadings, hatred and brutality, lost lives and shattered hopes and dreams.

Despite it not being “my” holiday, I’ve always enjoyed Christmas, or at least the “spirit” of it. The sound of children laughing and the joyful feeling in the air. The sight of houses draped in twinkling lights; and bejeweled and bedecked Christmas trees placed prominently in front of living room windows, so even passers-by can admire and enjoy them … the scent of freshly-baked cookies and pine cones … toasty fires and hot chocolate.

But in December of 2014, I was having a really hard time getting into it. When so many people, the world over, were struggling and suffering and in so much

Dear Santa …

(sigh).  Yes, I know.  It’s probably way too late in the game to be writing you — Christmas is just days away now.  But I’m hoping that, somehow, you’ve still got a miracle or two up your fur-trimmed sleeve.  We sure could use one.

You’re probably surprised to hear from me anyway, me being Jewish and all.  But honestly, if ever there was a time to put religion aside and start thinking as ‘one’, this has to be it.

Relax, Santa, it’s not gifts I’m after.  Not the usual kind, anyway.  So there’s no last-minute shopping for you, Mrs. Claus or the elves to do.  No wrapping either.  On the