I think I'm finally making peace with the phrase "Happy Holidays." Yes, I still prefer a good rousing "Merry Christmas," but an experience today just tipped the scales.

Driving to Moreno Valley up the long incline, I was next to an out-of-service city bus. I didn't pay it much attention, as I was focused on the semi behind me. A lovely rendition of Away in a Manger came on the stereo, and I hummed along and sang, feeling good that the surgery day for my friend Liz had finally arrived (it's tomorrow) and that she had made it through the long wait of inactivity and pain.

Be Near Me, Lord Jesus, I sang, as the cars inched up the freeway. Stay Close by Me Forever, and Love Me I Pray.

I glanced over at the bus, and the Out of Service digital sign flashed over to Happy Holidays.

Yes, it is, I thought. These can be, and are happy holidays.

It's the secular world's way to say what they feel they can't, and I'm content to understand the coded message that buses, corporate Christmas cards, and Cub Scout Dens send along to acknowledge this time when blessings seem just a little more abundant, feelings run a little closer to the surface, and we're more willing to see the good in others.