If I loved Christmas when I was a youngster, I loved Christmas night most of all. That was when the house grew quiet, the fire got another log, and a new world opened up with the turn of the first page of my new book. Every year that new book was the present I looked forward to more than any other. It fed an early love of the written word, which grew into the love of penning my own. It was then, and is now, a love that asks to be fed, and in feeding it, I am the one who is nourished.

What we come to love in life often shows up in our earliest years. Whatever your is, it is a love that deserves to be fed. Feed it well, and you will be the one who is nourished.