For years I have watched the holiday shopping insanity with bemusement and some sadness. When and why did Christians become not only okay with the massive commercialization of one of their highest holy days, but the worst offenders of this annual madness?
How is it that I, who knows full well Jesus wasn't born in winter and doesn't worship Him anyway, feels so deeply offended at the materialism attached to this holiday, and the Christians in my life knock themselves out perpetuating the greed and financial stress of "holiday gift-giving"?
I must have missed the memo that the Pope sent out telling everyone to forget the old school messages of peace, love, and tolerance, and the proof of your devotion lies in the size of your tree, the lights on your house, and the pile of presents you give away.
Most years I just watch in silence. This year I can't. A death by trampling in one store; two deaths by shooting in a toy store.
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!
Those of you taking part in this sort of thing have my unending disgust; those of you who don't only because you can't have my pity.
This is the year I take my stand and refuse to back down. I am not shopping for presents, and I am not accepting anything purchased. Some one has to point out the Emperor is naked, and in this case, he's not just naked, he's a rotting corpse with a death grin, and his poison is spreading faster than plague.
Am I alone in this? It doesn't matter if I am. I am shut of this whole business of holiday greed.
Jesus, on behalf of the sheep, I apologize. While Your message has been lost to many, I remember, and I keep it in my heart, and I will walk Your steps in serenity. Please help the blinded see their error, and give the weak the strength to share their love instead of baubles and trinkets, and comfort the bereft and hurting in this darkened season of pain and madness. Help us all to remember the joy and promise You gave, and be Your light in this time of need.
I have repeatedly told him that this is madness, and they either need to get some one in charge to take care of the insanity, or let it die the death it is seeking. But no one listens. "Job security," he tells me. I wonder if the slaves heard the same about picking tobacco.
I've suspected since talk began about building the replacement hospital that one of the changes would be that my position in the department would be phased out. So as they talked about the future in the new location, I knew I wasn't going to be part of that picture, and I was okay with that: I don't want to be doing this for the rest of my life.
But then last week I heard a rumor about the bus routes being replanned, and this week found out for certain that the bus I take to work won't be running as of November 24. The closest other route leaves me almost a mile from the office, on a street with a bridge and no sidewalks.