The prayer is what tripped us up. It was the first Christmas that my wife and I hosted in our home, and for a good 10 minutes, our two families stood around the dinner table arguing about how to thank God for the meal we were about to eat.
My mother, a born-again Christian, wanted our prayer addressed to Jesus. It was Christmas, after all; we were celebrating Jesus’ miraculous birth. “Shouldn’t we at least pray to him?” she asked sheepishly.
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