Humbug

Well, I guess this is the post in which I should say, "Merry Christmas to all," but many of you who know me know that at this time of year I have more in common with Ebenezer Scrooge than Bob Cratchit. For about a decade my "spirit of Christmas" has been in gradual decline to the present day where I find myself shuddering at another rendition of "Silver Bells," and scratching my head about what trees and cookies and mass consumerism have to do with Jesus. I love Jesus, but I find Him especially hard to focus on amidst the onslaught of this cultural thing we call the Christmas Season.
Yes, we have a tree, and yes, there are presents under it. I even checked out a Christmas carol songbook for my son, who is hearing these songs for the first time and LOVES them. (I've never sung The Friendly Beasts and We Three Kings so many times...and liked it--gasp!) C also wants to read the story about "the baby in the hay box" over and over in his Children's Bible. So, I'm learning to experience Christmas through the unjaded experience of my child, and I must admit, it's refreshing.
Now, at our house, Santa will never be more than a nice pretend story people tell at Christmas. The coming of God in the person of Jesus is the story that's "so good it has to be true," to paraphrase George MacDonald. Will I ever find a connection between this grand story and stockings and ornaments? Maybe not. In fact, when our kids are old enough to understand, don't be surprised if we give up gifts altogether one year.
On that note, Merry Christmas to all.