Right about now, “How ya’ doin’?” becomes “You ready for Christmas?” and my voice catches in my throat because, let’s be honest, I never am. The Christmas letter that has come to be expected could be written, reproduced and mailed. (It has been.) The tree could be decorated within an inch of its artificial life. (It is.) The gifts could all be bought (not quite) and wrapped with tasteful paper and wired ribbon. (I can only hope.) The refrigerator and pantry could be filled to brimming with multiple units of cream cheese and condensed milk and pecans, cracked and shelled by the hands of loving parents — praise the Lord — and I still would not be ready. “Ready” means preparedness and wholeness and availability.