Decorations are strung (almost), tasty treats
are being prepared, folks are enjoying cheese and libations in front of a cheery
fire, a sense of goodwill is in the air.
Unfortunately, there are always the
Scrooges.
It once was that the bah-humbuggers made only
themselves miserable, but today, they do their best to make everyone as
miserable as they.
Regardless, the season is here despite the war
the folks are trying to wage against
Christmas.
How well I know times today are different than
fifty years ago. People claim to be much more tolerant, but if you’ll permit me
to say, I’ve noticed that their tolerance extends only to the points at which
you begin to disagree with them.
I watched a news story recently of an elementary
school taking some of its students to see a play called ‘Charlie Brown’s
Christmas’, being held at the local church.
One parent did not like the idea so she went not
to the school, but the local ‘Free Thinkers Organization’, an Arkansas group
whose mission is to create a supportive non-religious community for atheists,
agnostics, skeptics, scientists, and free
thinkers.
And no, I’m not making this up. Check the group
out.
But, back to the
story.
From one disgruntled parent’s complaint, the
Free Thinkers bombarded the church with tons of hate mail and threats of
lawsuits.
The church
caved.
The kids stayed at
school.
Who lost here? Not the idiot parent. Not the
idiot Freethinkers. The kids lost, little kids who possess an innocent sense of
fair play of which that parent and Free Thinkers have no
concept.
Christmas is that time of the year when grownups
make themselves happy by making kids and the less fortunate
happy.
So maybe you think that’s corny.
Those of us who believe in Christ (supreme
being- sorry, satan not included) understand that helping others is a bottomless
source of satisfaction and joy.
Living only for yourself insures you a cold and
withered existence despite surrounding yourself with expensive
toys.
What someone wants to believe is his business.
Why do they assume they have the right to make life miserable for others just
because their decisions have made them miserable?
I feel sorry for those
people.
A perfect example of Christmas joy took place at
our house the other day with Keegan, my grandson. He’s eight, and he’s already
been questioning his Mom about Santa Claus.
My older daughter, Susan, an RN working in
hospice, is pretty good with the computer. She found a program called
portablenorthpole.com. A cute program, it personalizes, via email, a youngster’s
visit with Santa Claus at the North Pole.
She did it for her son, Mikey, and he was blown
away with it. I would have loved to have seen his reaction. It was probably
pretty much the as Keegan’s when he saw the
video.
She put it on my computer. When Keegan came
over, we told him there was a message to him from Santa. “He wants to talk to
you.”
His eyes popped open. The cold see the
excitement on his face. Money couldn’t measure the anticipation in his
eyes.
I said ‘Let’s go watch
it.”
“Oh no.” He insisted on watching it
alone.
Gayle and I grinned at each other. The little
guy was kinda leery about what Santa had to
say.
We let him got to the computer by
himself.
A couple minutes later, he called out. “Mee-mee,
Pa. Come see.”
Apparently, he liked what Santa had to
say.
The video was cute as Kenli Bug, my little
granddaughter.
The North Pole was as we all imagined, snow, big
house, gadzillions of stars. Santa welcomed Keegan by name, went to a huge
library of books, found the one titled, KEEGAN, and sat down by the fire. He
showed pictures of his elves looking over Keegan’s room as well as reading notes
from the book about Keegan’s behavior. Keegan had been a good boy, but he needed
to be sure to keep his room clean, mind his Mom and Pop, and be nice to
everyone.
Then he showed Keegan through the workshop with
all the toys, pointing out a couple boxes slated for Keegan’s Christmas tree.
Talk about excited. His eyes shone and he
jabbered on and on about Christmas.
There was no one any more tickled than his
grandmother and me. Right before us was the epitome of
Christmas.
Now you can see why I feel sorry for those who
do not believe in Christmas.
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