LIke weddings, Christmas is supposed to be perfect or it fails. Since it never is, many come to hate it. Hate the music, detest the smells, lampoon the myths, blame the commercialization, revolt against the sentimentality. Yet down deep the whole world longs for one altogether smashing blowout, a messianic banquet to which all are welcome and valued (some want to control the guest list, true), where no one must wear a wedding garment because the naked soul is affirmed and accepted armorless and free. No Christmas ever is that. And so there are broken hearts by the millions, trying sometimes to get with the celebration they yearn to be a part of, stretching to hang an ornament from the high bough that they just cant reach. She died. He left. The fight goes on. Im broke. War took my baby. Griefs like these mount. Hear them in Sams voice.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 14:51:13 +0000
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