The season has rolled around again. There’s a bit of giddy excitement in the voices of young ones already. The Advent candles are up in the churches; the stores have made ready to, with a special discount offer, transfer their merchandise from its current place on their showroom floor to the space beneath or near our Christmas tree.

Soon the radio will fill the airwaves with ballots of little elves serving as helpers for a pudgy fellow with a hearty laugh and an affinity for low flying reindeer. It’s the season of magic once again. Faces are smiling; children are waiting; and all have a special feeling of anticipation.

What do you anticipate this year? Are you still young enough to look forward to the family gathering together and devouring enough food to feed an African village for a month? Are you young enough to still delight in the excited handclapping of a child in the midst of discovery? Or, are you one whose grown old enough to look about the wrapping trashed house and think to yourself, “Thank the Lord this only happens once a year.”

This year I’ve decided to be young again. I’ve decided to see what I can do to make Christmas work for me as it used to. So, I’ve made my list; I’ve checked it twice, and here’s what I want for Christmas:

I want a device, any device, that is friendly to the environment and yet powerful enough to move the 200 pound railroad ties about the yard I’m trying to landscape with my only requirement being the ability to push a button.

I want the winning lottery ticket. O heck, scratch that – I’m a United Methodist and my church’s official position is against the lottery. Make that: I want one of my backsliding sons to get the winning lottery ticket along with a passel of gratitude for a father who sacrificed so much that they could be such wonderful adults.

I want a new car that is big enough to carry all six of my grandchildren together. It is not necessary that their parents fit. It should have two or three DVD player to eliminate arguments over the selection. It should have the standard features – cruise control, heated driver seats, GPS system, one of those programs where the kind and courteous voice asks, “I noticed your warning light just came on; would you like me to check that for you.” Additionally, this vehicle should get a minimum of forty-five miles-per-gallon, highway or in-town.

It would be nice to have some technological device that would facilitate my writing of this column and the other avenues that host my words. My facilitate I mean a gadget that would record all the wonderful ideas I have from time to time but which I seem to forget when the deadlines roll around.

One additional gift would be beneficial. I could use one of those reclining chairs that gives the sitter a full body massage. One that could absorb all the accumulated aches and pain that have taken residence in my muscles would be nice.

See, it’s not a big list. My wants are minimal. It’s strange though that just making the list make me realize how superficial these lists are. Moving the landscaping timbers, winning the lottery, driving that dream minivan, and aches and pains massaged away could never hold a candle to the joy of giving to others at Christmas.