Pic of the Day 🎅🏻🎄

Better get some sleep—he’s making his list and checking it twice, and it looks like the naughty ones are getting extra attention.🎄😏

Glitzen the Glitter-Nosed Reindeer

✨ Once upon a time, there was a reindeer who sparkled a little differently… 🌈✨

This is a fairy tale about joy that refuses to be dimmed, about glitter that outshines greed, and about choosing celebration when the world insists on silence. It’s a story for anyone who has ever been told to tone it down, stand in line, or make themselves smaller—and decided instead to shine.

Glitzen the Glitter-Nosed Reindeer is a tale of hope, courage, and unapologetic fabulousness. A reminder that being yourself is an act of bravery, that joy is powerful, and that light always finds a way back.

Pull up close.

The bells are ringing.

The glitter is flying.

And Christmas—real Christmas—is about to begin.

Glitzen the Glitter-Nosed Reindeer

Early one May at the North Pole, one of Santa’s reindeer gave birth to a little reindeer. When the newborn stood for the first time, he promptly tipped forward—straight into a pile of glitter meant for Santa’s toy shop. Laughter rippled through the stable as the little fellow wobbled back onto his shaky legs, his nose completely covered in sparkle.

His mother smiled and decided then and there to name him Glitzen—a portmanteau of her father Blitzen’s name and the glitter he had tumbled into. As Glitzen grew, everyone noticed that his nose never stopped shimmering. It seemed he could never quite rid himself of that glitter from his very first encounter with the world.

The young buck reindeer laughed at him and called him names. Glitzen knew he was different. Instead of playing reindeer games with the other bucks, he preferred to prance and dance with the does. He felt far more comfortable in their company, and they never mocked him or made him feel small. Glitzen always seemed to know exactly how to make the does—and everything around them—more fabulous.

He had a natural instinct for fashion and decorating, an eye for sparkle and balance. The bucks wanted nothing to do with him. His parents loved him dearly, though his father was often a little embarrassed by his son. His mother, however, understood. She loved Glitzen’s confidence and admired how he remained true to himself, even when the other reindeer bullied him.

One year, the world beyond the North Pole grew especially dark.

Across the Earth, a cruel and crooked dictator had risen to power. He ruled by fear, lies, and greed, demanding that the world worship him and his avarice above all else. He renamed cities, buildings, and institutions after himself, insisting his name be spoken everywhere, carved into stone and stamped in gold. Vast, glittering monstrosities were built in his honor—towering, hollow things—constructed by draining money, food, and comfort from ordinary people who could scarcely afford to lose any more.

Music was silenced. Color was discouraged. Celebration was mocked as weakness. People were told to fall in line, to stop dreaming, to stop being themselves. Hope, the dictator declared, was dangerous unless it served him.

And as the world grew heavier under his shadow, Santa’s Village felt it too.

The elves lost their spark. Toys no longer shimmered. Wrapped packages looked dull and lifeless, as though joy itself had been taxed away and locked behind gilded gates. Santa was deeply troubled, but he understood—everything at the North Pole drew its energy from the world beyond. When the world was oppressed, the North Pole dimmed.

Santa himself felt blue, though he tried not to show it. Hoping to lift spirits and restore even a little cheer, he decided to walk through the Village.

As he wandered, Santa noticed the reindeer weren’t playing at all—just standing about with lowered heads. The elves worked without enthusiasm, and it showed in every toy they made. Then, suddenly, Santa heard laughter. Singing. Bells.

He stopped in his tracks.

Following the sound, Santa entered the reindeer barn and was greeted by a truly fabulous sight. A group of young reindeer were dancing and singing, led by a buck with glitter on his nose and a string of lights woven through his antlers. Bells jingled as he moved, creating the most wondrous music, and everyone present was clearly delighted.

Laughing, Santa asked, “Everyone outside and in the toy shop is so gloomy—what happened in here to make things so festive?”

The reindeer laughed and pointed to Glitzen.

“Glitzen, my boy,” Santa said kindly, “how are you able to be so cheerful when the world feels so heavy?”

Glitzen looked up and replied,

“Santa, tyrants hate joy. They hate glitter. They hate people being themselves. They want us to worship their gold and their names instead of one another. But someone has to remind the world that they don’t get to take our light away. A little sparkle, some lights, and a few bells can help people remember who they are. I just wanted to remind everyone that we need a little Christmas right now.”

Then Glitzen began to sing:

Haul out the holly
Put up the tree before my spirit falls again
Fill up the stocking
I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now.

For we need a little Christmas, right this very minute
Candles in the window, carols at the spinet
Yes, we need a little Christmas, right this very minute
Hasn't snowed a single flurry, but Santa dear we're in a hurry.

Santa joined in singing:

I need to climb down the chimney
Turn on the brightest string of lights I've ever seen
Slice up the fruit cake
It's time we've hung some tinsel on the evergreen bough.

Before anyone quite realized what was happening, the cheer inside the barn spilled out across the North Pole. Soon, everyone joined in:

For I've grown a little leaner, grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder, grown a little older
And I need a little angel sitting on my shoulder
Need a little Christmas now

For we need a little music, need a little laughter
Need a little singing ringing through the rafter
And we need a little snappy, happy ever after
We need a little Christmas now.

When the song finally faded, Santa smiled and said,

“Yes—we do need a little Christmas now. Glitzen, thank you for reminding us that joy is an act of courage. Now we need to share it with the world. Can you help me?”

“I’ll do anything I can, Santa,” Glitzen replied.

“First, help the elves and reindeer rediscover the Christmas spirit,” Santa said. “Then, on Christmas Eve, when I deliver presents, I need you to spread that spirit everywhere. Some people are frightened. Some are silenced. Some are told they must be less than who they are so others can feel powerful. But they need to know that joy, love, and glitter still belong to them. We can’t let cruelty win.”

Glitzen nodded eagerly. He and the does set to work at once, covering the Village in glitter and tinsel while singing Christmas songs. Soon, all the reindeer—including the bucks who had once teased him—joined in. The elves found their spark again. Toys gleamed, and the packages wrapped under Glitzen’s direction were among the most fabulous ever to leave the North Pole.

On Christmas Eve, Glitzen led Santa’s sleigh, flying proudly at the very front. As they soared across the world, glitter and light rained down upon cities and villages alike. And something remarkable happened.

As joy spread, fear loosened its grip. As people sang, the dictator’s lies rang hollow. The great golden monstrosities—symbols of greed and stolen comfort—began to crumble. Some were torn down by the people themselves. Others were melted, their gold redistributed to those who had been robbed of food, warmth, and dignity.

By morning, the dictator’s regime had collapsed. His name vanished from buildings and streets. His statues were gone. His power dissolved like frost in the sun.

People once again expressed themselves freely. Color returned. Music filled the air. Love was no longer hidden. And as a new year dawned, joy and happiness returned to the land.

The spirit of Christmas ruled the world again.

Santa and all the reindeer congratulated Glitzen—not only for being the most fabulous reindeer of all, but for reminding everyone that joy is powerful, truth is radiant, and glitter can change the world.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

May your holiday be fabulous—and if you wake up with a bit of glitter scattered about, perhaps Glitzen has visited your home this year.

Postscript

I know this is a silly story, and I first shared it several years ago. It was originally written during the gloom of Christmas 2020, when the pandemic swept across the world, creating isolation, fear, and deep sadness. That year, many of us felt cut off—from our families, our communities, and from joy itself.

But just as the pandemic eventually ended, we must believe that evil, too, will be crushed. Prosperity will be returned to the people. Cruelty will not have the final word.

This too shall pass.

In a time when LGBTQ+ identities are being crushed under the weight of fear and repression, when our glitter is mocked and our joy is treated as dangerous, we must remember Glitzen. Our fabulousness is not weakness—it is resistance. And when we let it shine, the world becomes brighter.

Christmas is proof that light returns.

Always.

Pic of the Day

A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol

By Christina Rossetti

The Shepherds had an Angel,

The Wise Men had a star,

But what have I, a little child,

    To guide me home from far,

Where glad stars sing together

    And singing angels are?

Those Shepherds through the lonely night

    Sat watching by their sheep,

Until they saw the heavenly host

    Who neither tire nor sleep,

All singing “Glory, glory,”

    In festival they keep.

The Wise Men left their country

    To journey morn by morn,

With gold and frankincense and myrrh,

    Because the Lord was born:

God sent a star to guide them

    And sent a dream to warn.

My life is like their journey,

    Their star is like God’s book;

I must be like those good Wise Men

    With heavenward heart and look:

But shall I give no gifts to God?—

    What precious gifts they took!

About the Poem

Christina Rossetti’s A Christmas Carol is a quiet, contemplative Nativity poem—not focused on spectacle, but on belonging, guidance, and spiritual longing. Rather than centering angels or kings, Rossetti places herself—or the reader—in the role of “a little child,” asking a deeply human question: What guides me?

For many LGBTQ+ readers, that question resonates powerfully. The shepherds and the wise men are given signs—angels, stars, dreams—but the speaker must search inwardly for direction. Faith here is not inherited effortlessly; it is walked into, step by step, often without certainty.

Rossetti’s emphasis on journey rather than arrival speaks to those whose spiritual paths have felt solitary or uncertain. The poem quietly affirms that longing itself—the desire to follow the light, even when unsure what form it will take—is an act of faith. The final question about gifts reframes worthiness: not what do I lack? but what do I already carry that is precious?

For queer Christians, that can be read as an invitation to offer one’s whole self—identity, love, honesty, perseverance—as a gift, even when tradition has suggested those things were unfit for the altar.

About the Poet

Christina Rossetti (1830–1894) was one of the most important religious poets of the Victorian era. Raised in a deeply Anglican household, her poetry frequently explores themes of devotion, renunciation, longing, and divine love. While she lived a life marked by personal restraint and religious seriousness, her work often reveals profound emotional depth and spiritual tension.

Rossetti never married, declined at least two proposals due to religious differences, and devoted much of her life to faith and writing. Modern readers—particularly women and LGBTQ+ readers—have found in her poetry a quiet resistance to easy answers and rigid roles. Her work makes space for desire, doubt, and devotion to coexist, offering a spirituality rooted not in triumph, but in humility and searching.

Pic of the Day

Taxiing Toward Christmas

When this posts, I should be on an airplane—either taxiing down the runway or climbing to cruising altitude (around 35,000 feet, give or take)—on my way to Charlotte, North Carolina. I’ll have a three-and-a-half-hour layover there before continuing on to Montgomery.

Being on one of the first flights out of Burlington should mean we’re on time (knock on wood). But even if we aren’t, I’ve built in plenty of cushion in Charlotte—hopefully enough time to grab breakfast at the airport. A little after noon, I’ll be back in Alabama… God help me.

At least we should be going somewhere nice for lunch. I never quite know what my parents have planned, but since I’ll be getting in right around lunchtime, I’m hopeful. One thing Montgomery does well is food. There are a lot of great places to eat, even if the quality seems to slip just a little more each time I’m there.

Still, three full days with my family should be just fine. Honestly, what I’m most looking forward to is my family seeing how much weight I’ve lost. Knowing my luck, they either won’t notice at all or will assume I’ve lost weight because I’m sick or something equally dramatic. I’m fairly certain it’s noticeable enough.

Last Thursday, I ran into the former president of the university as I was heading out for a dentist appointment. He loves the museum and was on campus for someone’s retirement, wandering around the galleries. He asked how I was doing, and I said, “I’m doing good.” He smiled and replied, “And thin!”

He started asking me about my weight loss, but I couldn’t linger—I was already running late for the dentist. Still, I’ll take it. If he noticed, surely my family will too… right?

However your week is unfolding, I hope it’s a gentle and joyful one. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas week—full of warmth, good food, and moments of peace wherever you find them. 🎄✨

rogeriolourenco · George Gershwin - Rhapsody In Blue

Pic of the Day

By Another Road

“Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.”

— Matthew 2:2

The story of the Magi is a story about travel—but not the easy kind.

They journey far from home, crossing borders and expectations, following a light only they seem willing to trust. They do not fully know where the road will lead. They only know that something sacred is calling them forward, and that staying where they are is no longer an option.

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, the days leading up to Christmas involve a similar kind of journey. We pack our bags and return to places we know well—homes filled with memory, affection, history, and love—but also with silence. With rules about what can be said, what must be edited, and which parts of ourselves are expected to remain unseen. We love our families, and yet the cost of that love can feel heavy when it requires us to step back into the closet, even temporarily.

The Magi understand something about that cost.

They arrive in Jerusalem first, assuming—reasonably—that a king would be found in a palace. Instead, they encounter confusion, fear, and hostility. Herod is threatened, not curious. What begins as a holy quest is suddenly shadowed by danger. Still, the Magi continue on, guided again by the star, which leads them not to power, but to vulnerability—a child, held by his mother, in an unremarkable house.

Matthew tells us that when they see the child, they are “overwhelmed with joy.” Not because everything is safe or resolved, but because they have found what they were seeking. They kneel. They offer gifts. They honor what is holy, even when it does not look the way the world expects holiness to look.

There is something deeply comforting in what happens next. Warned in a dream, the Magi return home “by another road.” They do not retrace their steps through Herod’s court. They do not place themselves back in harm’s way. Encountering Christ changes not only their destination, but their path.

For those of us traveling home this Christmas—especially to places where our fullness is not yet welcomed—this matters. Faith does not require us to be reckless with our hearts. Love does not demand that we erase ourselves entirely. Even Jesus later tells his followers to be wise as serpents and gentle as doves. There is holiness in discernment.

The Christmas story reminds us that God is present not only in moments of joyful arrival, but also in the quiet strength it takes to endure difficult visits with grace. The child the Magi worship is Emmanuel—God with us—not only in affirming spaces, but in living rooms where words are chosen carefully, and truths are held gently, sometimes painfully, in reserve.

If this season requires you to navigate family dynamics that are loving yet limiting, know this: your journey matters. Your star still shines. You are not betraying God by surviving with wisdom, nor are you failing in faith by protecting yourself. The Magi teach us that sometimes devotion looks like perseverance—and sometimes it looks like choosing a safer road home.

As you travel this Christmas, may you be guided by the quiet assurance that Christ meets you on every part of the journey. May you carry within you the knowledge that you are already seen, already known, already beloved—no matter how much or how little you are able to say aloud.

And when the time comes to return, may you do so changed, strengthened, and still following the light.

The Oxford Trinity Choir · We Three Kings

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: Christmas Morning

Coffee optional. Clothes apparently not required. This is exactly what I want Christmas morning to look like—and I can’t wait to unwtap these presents. 

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays. 🎄

Peggy Lee · Happy Holiday

Mustaches aren’t usually my thing—but every rule deserves at least one very good exception. Some guys make it undeniably hot. I’m not sure it’s the mustache that’s winning me over—but I’m not complaining.

The following aren’t Christmas pics, per se. They just say Christmas in all the right ways. No ornaments, no lights needed—just something that feels unmistakably seasonal.

There’s nothing remotely Christmas about this—no red, no green, not a single decoration. But Santa… please put him under my tree anyway. I promise I’ll enjoy unwrapping him Christmas morning.