While you watched fireworks and ate a bratwurst, I sang Christmas hymns in Shepherd's field in Jerusalem. It sounds like an enviable experience, doesn't it? But please don't feel left out. I am astounded over and over that the sites themselves aren't what make the gospel significant. I feel just as large a portion of the Holy Ghost in my bedroom while I read scriptures as I do when I sit in the very place that angels heralded Christ's birth.
Besides, you had barbeque while I had none.
It seemed appropriate to celebrate independence and Christ's birth on the same day. It is Jesus Christ, after all, who sets us free from death and hell. "Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage" (Gal 5:1).
Honestly, the best part of the day was being made my professor's four-year old daughter's official bus buddy. I won her affection by playing 30 minutes of eye-spy on the bus, and she claimed me as her fieldtrip friend. She granted me wishes from her magical butterfly, drew pictures in my journal, and held my hand at all the sites.
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