And on to Christmas!

Disclaimer: I am a religious Christian believer. While it is never my intention to offend or alienate others, I am not ashamed of my beliefs or my quest to follow Christ, and I will not hide or minimize them. What is celebrated in this household is Christmas. We joyfully observe the birth of Christ as well as the zany, joyous, secular cultural festival that draws on traditions both ancient and modern. We respect and honor other traditions, and welcome all to our table. 


In that spirit, I feel it's fair to warn readers that what follows is a Christmas observance. If that will bother you, please consider moving on in peace. I'll be back soon with a jovial snark about processed food or bad grammar.

Annnnnnnddd . . . the headlong death spiral to Christmas is ON!

We can no longer hide behind well-intentioned (and fully self-deluding) notions of "one holiday at a time" or "I'm going to enjoy Thanksgiving FIRST" or "I refuse to get all upset over the most joyous time of year." 

Wishbones have been wished upon, pumpkin pies have been alternately lapped up and sneered at, teenagers have been forced into awkward professions of what they're grateful for, and tetrazzini/turkeybird soup recipes have damn near broken the Internet. We've waxed rhapsodic about how dearly we love a slice of leftover breast on good, toothy sourdough with a schmear of cranberry sauce and maybe a dot of sage dressing. Some of us camped out at hellish hours to catch "Black Friday" sales, while others sneered from aloft at the crass materialism of it all.

Now we deck halls; we play reindeer games; we hark as herald angels sing; we wrap and we shop and we bake and we whisper about beautiful surprises that we hope with all our might will delight the ones we love. We lose wrestling matches with strings of lights; we drop hundreds of dollars on wrapping paper and gift tags because damnit, we just can't find the ones we got for pennies on the dollar last year; we vow to finally replace those Godawful-ugly stockings no matter how hard the kids protest; and we drive ourselves mad trying to choose the prettiest and most functional packaging to show off our cookies and candies. All in the hopes that we will indeed do our little part to bring peace on earth and goodwill to all in the name of the Prince of Peace.

And this just days after we (theoretically) celebrated gratitude by shoving stale bread up a turkey's derriere, pronouncing a gelatinous pile of bitter berries "delicious," and partaking in vigorous debates about the history and heritage of a now-controversial holiday.

But there's no escaping it. Somehow Thanksgiving came and went, and now we're all in.

We are an odd lot, we merry revelers. We spend Advent in a lather of activity and busy-ness, overfunctioning, and thinking we can somehow make the magic if we just work a little harder, stay up a little later, add a little more glitter. We're oddly purpose-driven and frantic, and we frequently overlook our innate need for silence and contemplation. Some of us take the religious aspect of the upcoming season to heart, others less so, others not at all. 

But we are of one mind in at least one thing: We want--we hope--we crave--we hope to participate in creating--a time of peace and joy, a time when humans come together in a spirit of love--of fun and renewal and most of all, peace. How we get there, and how we surmount the boulders along the way, are extremely personal matters, but we're all reaching for something bright and beautiful, something that sparkles and shines in a chaotic and troubled world, something that's embodied in the season's message of hope and renewal. We want that beautiful gift for ourselves (oh, admit it, you do too!), we want it for those we love the most, and at this blessed time of year, we seem to want it for all the world.

And it's something I fervently wish for all my friends.

Merry everything, everybody.