Counting Blessings and Making Memories: A Christmas Worth Remembering
“The best things in life aren’t things at all—they’re people, memories, and the music that ties them all together.”
Well now, here we are on the backside of Christmas 2025, and I’ve been sitting here in my favorite chair, sweet tea in hand, counting my blessings like a banker counts pennies—except these blessings are worth a whole lot more than any currency you’ll find in a wallet.
This past Christmas, our home became what I reckon the good Lord always intended homes to be: a gathering place for souls who needed a place to belong. You see, when you move to a new town like Savannah—beautiful as she is—you leave behind more than just an address. You leave behind Sunday dinners at Mama’s house, impromptu gatherings on the back porch, and the comfort of knowing your people are just down the road a piece.
When Strangers Become Family
But here’s the beautiful thing about the human spirit, and I believe it’s a gift straight from God Himself: we have this remarkable capacity to create family wherever we land. This Christmas, several friends who, like Debbie and me, had traded proximity to kinfolk for the charm of Georgia’s oldest city, joined us around our table. What started as an invitation became something sacred—a gathering that reminded me why Jesus spent so much of His time around tables, breaking bread with folks.
We served up some proper Cajun gumbo (and I mean proper—Mama would’ve been proud), some sauce piquant that’ll make you slap your grandma (though I don’t recommend actually doing that), potato salad, pies, cookies, and enough love to fill the Savannah River twice over.
The Soundtrack of Grace
Now, I’ve written before about how music is the soundtrack of our lives, and this Christmas proved it again in ways that moved this old boy’s heart something fierce.
Kris brought her fiddle, and when she drew that bow across those strings, I swear I could hear angels taking notes. Geoff and Linda blessed us with some Scottish-flavored tunes that connected my Cajun roots to my Burnette heritage in ways that made my ancestors smile, I’m certain of it. Those Celtic melodies mixed with Louisiana spice created something that can only be described as holy fusion.
But let me tell you about Phil Davis. This man right here gave me a gift I didn’t even know I needed. Growing up in Louisiana, Jerry Lee Lewis was more than just music—he was the sound of Saturday nights, the rebellion of youth, the pure, unfiltered joy of piano keys pounded with reckless abandon. When Phil launched into his Jerry Lee Lewis tribute, I was transported back to days when my biggest worry was whether my hair looked good and if that red-haired girl would notice me. Those were simpler times, friends, and Phil brought them back to life with every note.
And Stu and Kathy? Lord have mercy, where do I even start? Your generosity humbles me. The thoughtful gifts, the opportunity to sing and play alongside y’all, but most of all, the love you share so abundantly—it’s like watching the fruits of the Spirit made manifest right there in our living room. You folks are living proof that the most valuable things we can give each other can’t be wrapped in paper or tied with a bow.
The Greatest Gift
But let’s get down to brass tacks here, because as wonderful as the food was, as soul-stirring as the music was, as precious as the fellowship was, none of it means a hill of beans without acknowledging the One who makes it all possible.
I’m grateful—no, I’m downright overwhelmed with gratitude—for the gift of Jesus. Not just at Christmas, mind you, but every single day of the year. He’s the reason I can write about hope when the world seems hopeless. He’s the reason I can talk about love when hate seems to be winning. He’s the reason broken people like me can be made whole.
The Holy Spirit that He left us with? That’s not some abstract theological concept, friends. That’s the very presence of God living and breathing in us, through us, and between us. When Kris played her fiddle, that was the Holy Spirit making music. When we laughed until our sides hurt, that was the Spirit bringing joy. When we hugged goodbye and promised to do it again soon, that was the Spirit binding us together in love.
Faith, hope, and love—the big three that Paul wrote about—these aren’t just nice religious words to embroider on pillows. They’re the fuel that keeps us going when the tank should be empty. They’re the light that shines when darkness tries to take over. They’re the reason we can face each new day with our heads held high and our hearts full of gratitude.
Family: The Circle That Keeps Growing
My wonderful wife Debbie deserves her own paragraph, possibly her own book. She’s the one who turns our house into a home, who remembers the details I forget, who loves people so well they can’t help but feel it. This Christmas wouldn’t have been half of what it was without her touch, her heart, her unwavering commitment to making everyone feel like they belong.
And my granddaughters, Skylar and Sunshine—oh, how they light up my world! Having Sunshine with us right before Christmas was like getting an extra present the angels hand-delivered. Those young’uns remind me why we do all this, why we keep building memories and traditions. They’re watching us, learning what matters, seeing how we treat people, understanding through our actions what love really looks like.
My mama, my sisters and brothers, Debbie’s family, all our cousins, our Church family, colleagues, clients, and customers—you’re all woven into the tapestry of our lives in ways that make the picture beautiful. Even our ancestors who paved the way for us and our descendants who will carry our stories forward, you’re all part of this grand narrative that God is writing.
And yes, I’m grateful for our President and our country. In times when it’s fashionable to complain about America, I choose to remember that I’m blessed beyond measure to be a citizen of this great nation. (Now, if that statement made your blood pressure rise, remember that warning I gave you on the homepage—you were told there might be some things that’d get your goat!)
The Ones Who Stopped By
To our friends who stopped by to share the love—Linda, Charles, David, Mary, Wendy, Becky, Trip, Willie, Louie, Rich, and anyone else my aging memory has temporarily misplaced—you added spice to an already flavorful day. Your presence mattered. Your laughter echoed. Your love was felt, received, and returned with interest.
A Lesson in Living Rich
My good friend Mike Jenkins used to say, “We are not rich, but we sure have rich lives.” Truer words have never been spoken, Mike. I may not have a mansion on the hill or a bank account that’d impress anybody, but I’ve got something worth far more: a life overflowing with love, friendship, faith, and enough memories to fill a library.
This Christmas reminded me that the best investment we can make isn’t in stocks or real estate—it’s in people. It’s in the time we spend together, the meals we share, the music we make, the laughter that rings through our homes, and the love we give away knowing full well we’ll receive it back tenfold.
The Stuff Worth Keeping
As I sit here reflecting on the past few days, I’m struck by how the most meaningful moments can’t be captured fully on camera. I brought my camera stand and, in typical Dean fashion, neglected to set up the video for the music. Fortunately, my detail-oriented bride recorded a couple of short videos, which I’ll compile and share to give you a glimpse of our good fortune. But even those videos only capture a fraction of what it felt like to be in that room, surrounded by that love, lifted by that music, blessed by that fellowship.
The stuff worth keeping—the real treasures—they live in our hearts, not on our hard drives. They’re the feeling you get when everyone’s singing together and you realize you’re part of something bigger than yourself. They’re the tears that well up when someone plays a song that takes you back to your childhood. They’re the warmth you feel when you look around the room and see faces lit up with joy, knowing you had a hand in creating that moment.
The Reason for the Season
Let’s not forget, in all this talk of food and music and fellowship, that Jesus is the reason for the season. Not just Christmas season, but all the seasons of our lives. He’s the reason we can gather in peace. He’s the reason we can love without fear. He’s the reason broken bread becomes communion and strangers become family.
When Jesus was born in that Bethlehem stable, God was saying something profound to humanity: “I love you enough to become one of you.” That baby in the manger grew up to show us how to live, how to love, how to sacrifice, and ultimately, how to triumph over death itself. That’s the story that changes everything, friends. That’s the narrative that gives all our little stories meaning.
Looking Forward
As we head into a new year, I’m carrying these memories with me like precious cargo. They’ll sustain me when times get tough. They’ll remind me what matters when the world tries to convince me otherwise. They’ll keep me grateful when I’m tempted to complain.
And I’m making a promise to myself right here and now: I’m going to create more of these moments. I’m going to invite more people to the table. I’m going to make more music, share more laughter, give more hugs, and say “I love you” more often. Because here’s what I know for certain—we’re not promised tomorrow. We’ve only got today, and today is the perfect day to love people well.
An Invitation
If you’re reading this and you’re one of those folks who moved to a new place and left your people behind, I want you to know something: you can create family wherever you are. Don’t wait for an invitation—extend one. Don’t wait to belong—make others feel like they belong. The table is always big enough for one more chair, the gumbo pot can always be stretched a little further, and there’s always room in our hearts for another soul who needs to feel loved.
And if you’re reading this and you’re blessed to still live near your kinfolk, don’t take that for granted. Gather often. Make memories on purpose. Let the dishes sit in the sink a little longer so you can sit on the porch a little longer. Choose people over productivity. Choose presence over presents. Choose love over everything else.
Final Thoughts
This Christmas of 2025 will go down in my personal history book as one of the good ones—and I’ve been blessed with quite a few good ones in my six-plus decades on this earth. It was good not because everything was perfect (it wasn’t), not because we had the most expensive gifts (we didn’t), and not because we did everything “right” (we rarely do). It was good because we did it together, with grateful hearts, with Jesus at the center, and with love as our guiding principle.
As we stand on the threshold of a new year, I’m reminded that we’re all just walking each other home, as Ram Dass once said. The journey’s better with company, the load’s lighter when it’s shared, and the music’s sweeter when we’re all singing together.
So here’s to counting blessings instead of problems. Here’s to making memories instead of excuses. Here’s to loving people well, serving the good Lord faithfully, and living each day like the gift it truly is.
Thank you, God, for Jesus. Thank you for the Holy Spirit. Thank you for faith, hope, and love. Thank you for family, both the ones we’re born into and the ones we choose. Thank you for friends who become family. Thank you for music that moves our souls. Thank you for gumbo that warms our bellies. Thank you for this beautiful, complicated, wonderful life.
We are not rich, but friends, we sure have rich lives.
Welcome to the family, y’all. The sweet tea’s cold, the gumbo’s hot, and there’s always room for one more at the table.
Dean Burnette
Southern Fried Thoughts
Savannah, Georgia
December 27, 2025
Check out Our Home Page LINK
How I pay the Bills LINK to B3 Blog