Well, hello, my friends and welcome to the live-inspired podcast, Monday morning moments with John O'Leary, the Christmas edition.

We record these each week so that you and I

can begin our days and our weeks in awe and on fire with a burst of inspiration. So here we go.

With Christmas just a couple days away, excitement is building in homes everywhere. The air is buzzing

with twinkling lights, fested music, and yummy smells,

and nobody is getting the amount of sleep they need. Trust me. Growing up, I know I certainly

did not. The class parties, the nights spent driving around to see the Christmas lights,

the annual visits to Santa downtown in St. Louis,

and the late-by Christmas service all funneled each year into a moment for me.

Christmas Eve, wide awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind racing about the next morning

and all the things that potentially could show up under that Christmas tree.

Well, when the first streaks of daylight finally slipped through my curtains on Christmas morning,

the promise of surprise would pull me out of bed early like a magnet.

I'd sprint through the house, waking up the siblings and my parents urging the morning along.

Let's go, people.

And then, as a family, we'd make our way down the steps. Turning the corner into the family room felt like stepping into another world.

The Christmas tree shimmered. Stockings that had been hung neatly the night before now slumped on

the floor too heavy with treats for tape to hold them up.

The plate of cookies was mysteriously empty.

The milk was all gone, the carrots we left for the reindeer. They're gone.

It was official. That's right, my friends.

Santa Claus had made it here.

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