As someone who wallows in politics, in opining, in making fun of those who, if I were the violent type, would be subject to ear pulls and nose-tweaking, I'm still surprised when, like clockwork, these are my thoughts at Christmas time:

Deliver me, please, from anger, from ugliness, and keep these peaceful moments coming.

You may have noticed that it's been a while since I've written about politics. (Better than a fortnight, I see.) But I haven't been silent. Lord, no! I've been commenting and arguing in small doses, but until now I haven't felt the urge to write a real post. Judging from past experience, it's only a passing phase, but it feels good not be angry at the world and all its cruelties, its craziness, its Trumps and Fiorinas, its Onward Christmas Warriors.

I expect this will go on until after the Holidays. We've closed up our house in the northern boonies and are in the city with family and friends now. Love is in the air. Hugs, giggly kids, heavenly desserts. . . It's those Hallmark moments. They're killing me!

It's hard for me to be angry right now, even at the people who deserve it. When I heard Lindsey Graham was quitting the race, I even found a tiny soft spot just for him. Aawww. Nearing the last of the old guard. He may be a war-monger and a bit of a fibber, but he's not rude, crude, or a low-life. He may never say anything I can agree with, but when he speaks my tongue doesn't catch fire, my eyes don't bulge, and steam doesn't come out of my ears. Glad tidings, if not good will.

I can't talk right now about Governor Snyder, Michigan's anti-government legislature, and the lead-poisoning of children in Flint, caused by an emergency manager who decided on his own, with a big thumbs up from the Gov, that saving a few bucks was far more important than the health and safety of an entire city. It's my own Yuletide promise forcing me to keep the outrage down for the holidays, but it's festering, it's in there and it will come out.

I will leave it to others to comment on Donald Trump calling Hillary's longish bathroom break during Saturday night's debate "disgusting". You won't hear it from me that it sounds like Donald the Magnificent has perfected the art ofpeefraining.

I'll leave aside the talk of guns until after the ball has dropped at midnight, the start of a brand new year, unless the unthinkable happens again, in which case, I'm in. Big time. But here's hoping.

It's peace I'm after now. A moment's respite. A slowing-down, a deep breath, a calm and steady drifting through the sights and sounds of the Holiday season. A moratorium on palpitations.

But peace is more than a single mindset, more than a quest for calm on a few special days. It's a planetary necessity. It's how we got here and how we'll stay.

I felt it yesterday as NBC's Hoda Kotb hosted an interfaith panel of women. She asked three spiritual leaders--Christian, Jew and Muslim--if peace is possible. (Watch it here.) Peace, they said, is love.

And so it is.

May peace, hope, and love be yours throughout these coming days. If not, there's always next year. We'll work on it together.