It wasn’t supposed to end that way.

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When I was a senior in college, I was pretty scared about being unemployed and adrift in the big bad world. I was so scared, that I did something fairly unusual and counterintuitive for me. I applied to go into the Foreign Service. When George Herbert Walker Bush was president.

Nicodemus could not sleep. He was tossing and turning, but something just wasn’t sitting right. It was something to do with this guy, Jesus—the one who was driving everybody crazy.

Next month, on June 23 to be exact, Peter and I will celebrate 20 years together.  On that first June 23rd, falling pell-mell into summer romance, I don’t think either one of us anticipated we’d be here 20 years later, with kids, a mortgage, and decades more life together stretching out before us.

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I had a dream the night before last. I walked into a room at church, and it was filled with nativity sets. High and low, on every surface, as far as the eye can see, were wise ones and shepherds, and baby Jesuses, with stars hanging from the ceiling above all of them. Snow was gently falling on them.