It can't be

 ...it's from. Who was the invitation from? That has been what was on your mind for the last couple weeks. At first, it didn't bother you. It just was a simple invitation that was sent to you. Generally invitations come with a return address. This one did not. Come to think of it, you had not looked at where the cancellation of the stamp was from. Where did it come from? Where was that outside envelope? Why did you throw that away? That would have answered the question of where it came from.

Well, that is history. Here you are, ready to turn the invitation over to read it and see who it was from. Your wife was watching over your shoulder. "Well?" she asked. Holding it in your hand, you turn it over.

"You are invited to attend..." What? You can't believe it. It can't be? Could it? That never happens. It doesn't work like that. Dropping the invitation on the table like it was burning your hand, you look down at it. Your wife is looking over your shoulder. You hear here sharp intake of breath from your wife. "It can't be," she says.

You turn and look at her. "Did you send this?" you ask. "Me? No. I had no idea who it was from," she responds. "Then who?" you ask, as you look down at the invitation. Never in a million years would you have thought you would receive such an invitation. Why did you recieve it? Why would it be sent to you?

Reaching down, you pick up the invitation. "You are invited to attend the celebration of the birth of My Son on Friday night, December 24, 2021 at 11:00 p.m." With shaking hands, you read it out loud. The name at the bottom of the invitation was...

...Your Father, God.