There's a reason so many of us grandparents are overcoming their technophobia and venturing into cyberspace. We get to see pictures of our grandkids as soon as they're taken!

Like the hilarious photo our son sent recently. A picture of our one-year-old grandson sitting on the kitchen floor, fork in hand. With a lemon-meringue pie splatted on the floor next to him. He's looking at the camera with an expression somewhere between "uh-oh" and "what's the problem?"

I love all the "joy to the world." All the Christmas electricity in the air.

But just down from the manger is a flag at half-staff. For 26 Connecticut funerals...for all those little children gunned down so brutally just eleven days before Christmas. There are clouds over the Christmas sun this year. A nagging sadness, challenging the joy.

If people are right about the Mayan prophecy, there's not much point in my writing this blog. December 21, the day the world's been talking about as the predicted "end of the world," is just a few hours away as I write. And that wouldn't leave much time for folks to read this.

Happily, I just heard on the news that folks in Australia are still here - and it's been "doomsday" for several hours now. So I'll keep writing.

As I write this, my children are picking up their children from school. And holding them very close. Because some parents of little schoolchildren in Connecticut will not be able to do that tonight. Or ever again.

I'm feeling what millions are feeling right now - all of us who have a child we love and can't imagine losing. It's just a deep heaviness in my spirit. Suddenly obscuring the "sunshine" of the Christmas season.

I just dropped off a Christmas poinsettia at a friend's house - she's getting home from the hospital today. Her husband died of cancer last week while she was laid up with back surgery. For her, I guess the words "Merry Christmas" will sound kind of hollow.

Of course, she's not alone this Christmas. In many families each Christmas, there's someone missing around the table. In just the past few weeks, my wife and I have had ten friends die. There are clouds over Christmas this year. For us. And especially for the families of those who are gone.

Our pregnancies were big news to us. But, thankfully, the press couldn't have cared less. Of course, we're not Prince William and Duchess Kate.

Kate's first-trimester problems have been front page news. Because the baby she's carrying is an heir to the throne. This is a royal baby.

But, then, so is every baby. Because only the King - of all kings - can start a human life. Long before ultrasounds, God gave us a glimpse inside a mother's womb - in this prayer. "You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb. Thank You for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous."

Like most Americans, I've about O.D.'ed on news about elections, economic cliffs and eruptions in the Middle East. It's all important, but it's not exactly in the "joy to the world" category.

So I'm loving the feel-good story out of New York City that's gone viral across Facebook. About the friendly policeman and the freezing homeless man. It's got "Christmas story" written all over it.

In case you missed it, a young police officer, on patrol in Times Square, came upon a homeless man, sitting barefoot on the sidewalk. It was a "two pairs of socks" night for the officer - and even then his feet were freezing. He couldn't imagine a man sitting there barefoot all night.

Making Your Christmas About What Jesus' Christmas Was About:
An Intentional Christmas

Christmas 2012 comes against the backdrop of a world much like that of the First Christmas - lots of upheaval, violence, and fear. A near war in the Middle East - with that area getting more and more dangerous; sparks of a second Egypt revolution; political uncertainty and paralysis; the fast approach of a game-changing "fiscal cliff."

March 27th, 2012

So I went into the gas station to prepay for a fillup and suddenly found myself in Crazyville. A long line in this small town store, all talking about what they'd do if they won. Yes, I had inadvertently walked into the Lottery Fever ward. Just like me, everyone had cash in their hand. Except I was the only one who was buying gas. Did I mention crazy?

All over the news, folks were talking about their dreams for how they'd spend this record-breaking, $600 million-plus jackpot. Even though the odds of winning were 1 in 176 million! I didn't buy a ticket. But as I saw my fillup total, I got to thinking that I might have to win the lottery just to buy my gas.

I slept in on Black Friday, thank you. And felt smugly smart as I watched the buffalo stampedes on the news. Of course, so did those people leaving with a "you can't believe the price" flatscreen TV.

As I ventured into an eerily quiet "big box" store later in the day, I asked the clerk if she was getting combat pay. She just gave me a look that said, "You have no idea, buster." Watching the evening news reports of charging consumer armies, I mumbled to myself, "Peace on earth, huh?"