There is a missing piece of pie served at my Holiday Feast, and I’m not sure why.
Did someone sneak into the refrigerator last night for a midnight snack?
Did someone skip the ham and go straight to dessert?
Maybe someone dropped the pie and returned what was left to cover their tracks?
At this time of year, I often reflect on the Christmas mornings growing up in Lawrenceville, New Jersey - the opening of presents, the wrapping paper flying everywhere, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of bacon sizzling on the stove, Christmas songs playing on the stereo, and the many hugs and smiles from my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends dropping in throughout the day. But there is one Christmas in particular that I recall each year. A Christmas morning that changed my life.
Read MoreAt this time of year, I often reflect on the Christmas mornings growing up in Lawrenceville, New Jersey - the opening of presents, the wrapping paper flying everywhere, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of bacon sizzling on the stove, Christmas songs playing on the stereo, and the many hugs and smiles from my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends dropping in throughout the day. But there is one Christmas in particular that I recall each year. A Christmas morning that changed my life.
Read MoreThis time of the year is marked with certain time-honored traditions.
Purchasing of gifts for those near and far. Attending holiday parties with friends and family members. Packing up the car to make extended trips. Baking cookies, making pies, and taking out Grandma’s recipe of sweet potato casserole – the one with mini-marshmallows.
There is a missing piece of pie served at my holiday feast, and I’m not sure why.
• Did someone sneak into the refrigerator last night for a midnight snack?
• Did someone skip the ham and go straight to dessert?
• Maybe someone dropped the pie and put back what was left to cover their tracks?
It is nearly dusk as the sun greets the orange and blue horizon over Boston Harbor. Judy and her daughter, Michelle, cuddled together on their living room couch. Michelle, just three years old, draws her baby doll closely to her chest, and holds her mother's hand tightly.
Read MoreAt this time of year, I often reflect on the Christmas mornings growing up in Lawrenceville, New Jersey - the opening of presents, the wrapping paper flying everywhere, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of bacon sizzling on the stove, Christmas songs playing on the stereo, and the many hugs and smiles from my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends dropping in throughout the day. But there is one Christmas in particular that I recall each year. A Christmas morning that changed my life.
Read MoreThere is this place; a special place.
A place where nature is celebrated, trees grow strong and tall, and birds rejoice with each sunrise.
A place where dreams are formed in morning's midst, planted in the hearts and minds of a few, a thousand, and then into the millions.
People come to this place year after year. They play. They laugh. They learn. They fall in love with each other as they embrace nature's many gifts which inspire their souls and warm their hearts.
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