There has not been a miracle like I experienced this weekend since the weeping Madonna.
No, not that Madonna. You know, the Madonna, the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus. Some of her statues have supposedly wept and really made a mess like this one.
It may be miraculous, but kind of gross. Who wants to clean up blood these days? That’s a hazmat fluid.
Anyhoo, my miracle surpasses any weeping, bloody Madonna. My recently teenaged daughter announced this weekend that we should watch a Christmas movie. Now a Christmas movie to me means Die Hard, Bad Santa, Office Christmas Party, A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas, Scrooged, Krampus, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, etc. You get the idea. My choices would either be inappropriate or previously viewed. You can try to guess which is which from that list. But this weekend, teen daughter wanted to watch a previously unviewed Christmas movie.
What normally follows is an hour of searching for a movie on Netflix and other streaming services, giving up, and just going to bed. I decided to take the initiative to choose and start a Netflix movie immediately. Of course, teen daughter did NOT want to watch the movie I selected, so she turned away and pretended to take a nap. That’s not the miracle. She’ll take a nap at the drop of a hat, which is why I don’t risk dropping my hat and only wear jackets with attached hoods.
The miracle is that by about the middle of the movie, she was not only watching with rapt attention, but appeared to be enjoying the movie. It kept her fixated to the very end. It was a light, breezy, funny film called Mix Tape on Netflix that featured some good music by the Kinks and Roxy Music. It has nothing to do with Christmas, but she didn’t care, and neither did I. Madonna weeping blood?
Seen it. Me pick a movie that both my teen daughter and I will enjoy? Now that’s what I call a Christmas miracle.
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 