When I heard all 15 of our family members were coming for Christmas, I was hot on the idea. I donned my red holiday collar and did my best tail-wagging when each arrived.

But now that we’re together, I’m beginning to cool on the whole thing. Actually I lost my cool entirely this morning when two of the babies used me as a climbing wall. I erupted with a growl that surprised even me, and although I didn’t hurt anyone, I was soundly reprimanded.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the little ones. Mealtimes are extremely rewarding with babies on the guest list. I plant myself near their three high chairs and patiently wait for droppings. As soon as eating begins, rich bounty comes my way.

But the life Midge and I normally have has gone out the window, partly because of the crowd under our roof but partly because we’re literally getting new windows installed this week. That’s right. The old windows are being pried out (with loud crow bars and electronic saws) and new ones are being put in (with loud banging and electronic hammers).

Naps are interrupted and the house gets cold, but Midge told me it’s the best Christmas present she could receive this year. I know the old windows have been cloudy and drafty, but the main reason she’s so hot on new ones is that Pidge was the one who gave them to her. Since he’s been gone for over a year, this gift is extra special.

During these days of way too much noise and activity, I’ve done my best to be adorable and accommodating, but one dog can only do so much. And it’s not like my life hasn’t been altered, too. Daily walks to the beach with Midge have disappeared, and Nelson takes me now. I’m just glad he’s thinking of my needs, because Midge is paying far more attention to the little people than to me.

I spend much of my day looking for her and sometimes can’t find her at all. Someone else is sleeping in her bedroom, and other people are driving her car.

Today the kids all went sledding. These are young children who’ve never done it before, three from England and two from Florida. Because our street is covered with icy snow, the sleds flew along at quite a clip, giving the kids a thrill and prompting parental videos. I love the cold and warmed up to the sliding fun, running alongside. But when I tried to grab the sleds between my teeth, I got yelled at.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the favorite animal of two toddlers, two crawlers and one hair-twister. But then there’s tonight when my heart grew so warm, it melted. Skylar was making the rounds to say good night and stopped to talk to me. Although I was lying down (worn out from a day of trying to avoid babies), she got down on her tummy, nose-to-nose with me, and lovingly said, “Good night, Jackie. You’re a very good boy.”

Swoon.

Did I mention I was really hot on the idea of having our whole family together this Christmas?

“Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” (1 Corinthians 13:7)

Tonight I’m breaking stride, writing the blog from a miniature table in a tiny Starbucks, warmed by a tall cup of herbal tea. Floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows look out on a Christmas scene: well-decorated store windows, traffic lights “blinking a bright red and green” and a brick sidewalk on which a steady parade of shoppers pass.

Just outside the windows is a long line of trees laden with tiny white lights, making the street look every bit like a page from a fairy tale. Christmas carols are playing on the Starbucks speakers, and as if on cue, snow has begun to fall.

The counter top nearby is lined with cheery red bags of “Christmas Blend” coffee, and the menu posters overhead are coordinated with the same red, along with pictures of alluring cups of whipped-creamed-topped hot drinks. This scene couldn’t be more perfect. It’s a combination of “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” and “Let it snow.”

All of us envision a similar perfection when we look toward the holidays. But even though I’ve not exaggerated my description of the scene, I’ve left out some of the details.

A mother and two elementary school boys just left the Starbucks with three cups of hot chocolate, but before they did, the mom had to grab each of them, point out my computer and yell a reminder that liquids and laptops don’t mix.

At the next table a husband and wife argued about where they’d eat dinner, one wanting hot dogs, the other a gourmet meal. When six middle school girls came in, the catty gossip flying between them nearly colored the air blue, and because of their dilly-dallying, the woman behind them eventually stormed off saying, “I don’t have all day to get one cup of coffee!”

A boyfriend and girlfriend became stressed when he decided nothing on the Starbucks menu interested him. Outside  people hoped to stay warm by hunching forward as they walked through the bitter cold.

Scenarios of holiday strain dotted the Christmas-y atmosphere, destroying the fairy tale ambiance and reminding me life isn’t, nor ever will be, what it seems.

Lately I’ve noticed couples seated together in restaurant windows (including Starbucks), and feel a sense of self-pity. I’m not part of a couple anymore, and as I look through the windows, especially now with Christmas lights and music adding to the attraction, I long to be part of that picture. But I ought to remind myself things aren’t always as they seem. What looks idyllic may not be, and being jealous of a fairy tale picture is silly.

This principle holds true in the spiritual realm, too. The promises of this life are just like a seemingly beautiful scene. “Through the window” they look satisfying and delectable, and we project ourselves into those pictures. But if we go there, we learn it’s often just “smoke and mirrors.”

Most things aren’t as they seem, and spending time wishing or hoping when in truth we might not want them anyway, is foolishness indeed.

“You need to become a fool to be truly wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God.” (1 Corinthians 3:18-19)