I love Christmas. Growing up I loved all of it: the magic and the mystery, the excitement, the decorations and the music, and most of all the Christmas story. We didn’t go to church when I was growing up, not even at the “big” holidays, but I understood what Christmas meant.
I’m grown up now … and it means more to me now, though it took me years and years later to reconnect to that meaning. God so loved the world…
I love Christmas, the true Christmas. The secular aspects? Less enjoyable.
The lights, the decorations… they’re pretty and all. The music… is nice is small quantities.
Food … so many tasty treats that I truly could do without. Or at least my waistline could.
Christmas cards … I will send fewer this year, simultaneously going “green” and acknowledging that between out-of-date addresses and revenge cards, it’s an exercise in futility, in waste, in frustration. Oh, sure. I’ll still send some; there are those I could not make myself not send if I tried. But fewer.
Holiday gifts … some wrapped, some delivered, some on order, one already sent back for exchange. And some for whom I have no idea whatsoever what-all I’ll be giving, and that stresses me out a bit.
This is not what this holiday is about.