Here at the beginning of the Christmas season, I find myself enjoying the fullest, most breathtaking sequence of activity I’ve ever had the good fortune to experience.
Every year is full. Every year has its busyness, its traditions, its moments that shine. But this year is… different. This year is special. And this past weekend was the proof.
Friday night was our local tree lighting ceremony. The air was cold — the kind of cold December sharpens into a razor. But no one minded. People were out, huddled next to each other, coffee cups steaming, kids bundled in scarves and mittens almost too thick to bend. And when that switch was thrown and the tree came alive — thousands of lights suddenly blazing into the dark — you could feel the crowd exhale in happiness. It’s here. Christmas has officially arrived. The season begins… and with it comes the beauty, the activity, the memories we’ll hold onto when the lights come down.
Then 24 hours later, I’m watching my bride and our youngest — our ballerina — take in The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center. Her first time. The world-famous dancers. The music that swells Christmas into a fairy tale. And when she came home later that night, hair in a bun still pinned a little crooked, she ran right to hug Dad’s neck — floating with excitement, in awe of what she had seen. Moments like that remind a father what a gift it is simply to be a father.
And then Sunday… Christmas at the White House.
It is an extraordinary thing to walk those hallways during December. Every room this year radiates care, taste, warmth. The First Lady outdid herself — the trees, the fireplaces, the garlands — elegant and filled with meaning. The food was magnificent — delightfully decadent and absolutely Christmas-worthy.
And at around 3 PM, our host walked in to greet us.
Now, think about this: this is one of dozens of Christmas gatherings the president and first lady will host this month. They will greet thousands. They will stand for photos until their feet ache. They will shake hands until their shoulders are sore. They will stay “on” — smiling, listening, caring — hour after hour after hour.
And yet… he needed no notes.
None.
He stepped up, welcomed us warmly, bragged on the food, introduced two Cabinet secretaries and a pair of visiting governors, and then — in perfect President Trump fashion — rolled off a list of victories from just the last few weeks: wins for the economy, wins on crime, wins for hardworking Americans who have been longing for relief.
He gave an update on one of the West Virginia National Guardsmen severely wounded during his heroic service. He highlighted the encouraging news that four states now have gas under $2 a gallon. He laughed. He teased. He was funnier than I’d ever heard him — sharp, warm, and fully alive. And he spoke with such genuine love for America that you couldn’t help but feel proud to be one of her citizens.
He was positive. Upbeat. Looking forward — not back.
At one point he even joked that his Cabinet is exhausted from the pace of what they’ve accomplished.
“But,” he said with a grin, “they can sleep once we’ve fixed the country.”
All of it — again — without a single notecard, without a teleprompter, without handlers hovering nearby.
Remember the guy before him? The one who needed picture cue cards just to remember who he was talking to — and sometimes still ended up shaking hands with invisible people? Minimal remarks, maximum confusion, and a country that suffered for the lack of competence and conviction.
That contrast struck me deeply.
Because I kept thinking: This man doesn’t need any of this.
He doesn’t need the stress.
He doesn’t need the slander.
He doesn’t need the death threats or the lawsuits or the smears or the arrests or the endless attempts to break him.
He was wealthy and comfortable long before he ever descended that escalator.
He could be living a very good life — quieter, easier, without the mob of hatred that is thrown his way every day.
He could have walked away.
Most people would have.
And yet — he didn’t.
Public service for President Donald J. Trump is a completely volunteer job. He does not take a salary. He pours his energy, his time, and — yes — his own safety into a role that has brought him more personal pain than any man should endure.
And still… he shows up.
Because he loves the country that gave him everything — and he wants to give back.
Because he loves the people who stand in crime-ridden neighborhoods praying someone will finally care.
Because he loves the workers in small towns who feel forgotten.
Because he loves the moms and dads who want a future for their kids that is brighter than the present.
Because he loves America.
I watched him on Sunday — smiling, strong, confident — and I thought to myself:
“This is what leadership looks like.”
Not perfect. Not polished. Not safe.
But courageous. Determined. And utterly unwilling to quit on us.
So, yes — every year Christmas is special. But this year feels like a turning point. A year when the lights seem to shine a little brighter. A year when hope — real hope — is beginning to rise again.
And as this season unfolds, as carols fill the air and families gather close, I am profoundly grateful that God — in His providence — saw fit to give this nation a president who refuses to stop fighting for her.
Mr. President, if you ever read these words, know this:
Millions of us see you.
Millions of us appreciate you.
Millions of us are praying for you and your family every single day.
And from the depths of my heart — Merry Christmas, President Trump.
May God bless you.
May God strengthen you.
May God continue to use you — for the sake of freedom, for the sake of our children, and for the sake of this beautiful land we love.
Merry Christmas to the man who never stopped believing that America is worth saving.