This Night

     I'm alone in my studio this Christmas eve. 
No it's not something I'm hoping you'll pity me for-it's to tell you and apologize to you, in advance, for the posts this evening. 
     No Wassail here...
     
     I've chosen-so often in my life-to be alone. To be able to think and selfishly, honestly care only about me and what I'm feeling. The special nature of this "Holy Night" has never before crept into my thoughts -Usually I can, without interruption do what I need doing-painting, hopefully. 

     But those children. Those teachers are haunting me.
    
Since I first heard about the shootings I've been falling daily into tears- as if my ability to even hold my head up and carry out simple tasks has been taken from me. Nothing special or specific to the tragedy triggers it-I just cry.
    But this night. This hoped for child. This dream of God. This sacrifice of the innocence of a child so that all people could be saved and cherished.
    This Christ child. These Christ children.
Dear God your price is too high.