The Real Story of Christmas
My husband asked me last night, what if the real story is just the very simple, human birth story? What if all babies are miraculous and special?
Certainly, the new baby being born in winter, all the lights and greenery we bring into our homes during darkness and leafless trees, all of it is about how we can find and create warmth and hope and love even in the darkest and coldest of times. Life goes on, even when it seems it will not. This is the lesson of nature, of our seasons, of our bodies, of our souls.
Meanwhile, I am super pregnant and wondering how the heck I’m going to make it to February. THAT will be the miracle for me.
I’ve been a fan of Barbara E since her piece about her personal experience as a Merry Maid. But when she dissed my enthusiasm at a book signing, I was annoyed. Now, I’ve decided to let go of my affrontedness and enjoy this take on the whole Princess Cult for little girls that’s trying so hard to take over my daughter’s imagination…
Which is something I’ve been really thinking hard about the past few days. Recently, J’s reinventing of drums into birthday cakes and of herself into a swimming mermaid and bells into candles has made me think that some of my exuberant purchases for her Christmas gifts are completely unnecessary. She doesn’t need play food – she can take a shoe and turn it into a rocket ship! What was I thinking?
This story about a 7-year-old girl who jumped in front of an ex-boyfriend firing gunshots at her mother (took several bullets, lost an eye, saved her mother) is enough to make me believe strongly in two things:
1) Despite all our evils, the human capacity for love is amazing and should never ever be poo-pooed
2) We need to start lopping off balls.
Seriously, folks. I am sick of our testosterone-induced nightmare of domestic violence, rape, murder, war, and other egotistical antler-bashings that dominate the headlines and our personal lives because the men in our society don’t know what to do with their hormones. I’m done. Just done.
I know – there’s a few good guys out there we should keep around for studs. Okay, fine. But the rest? Sorry. You’ll be much kindler and gentler castrated. Make the world truly a better place. Pony up.
The Nice Guys on the Side of the Road
The other day, I thought my car was jumpy and rumbly because I hadn’t let it warm up enough. Turned out, as the construction workers on the side of the road told me after they flagged me over, I had a flat tire. They insisted on changing it for me, right then and there. It was cold and they were spunky. I am thinking they are definitely candidates to keep their balls in my new world order.
To all of you who read this, and especially those who take the time to comment, I hope you have a lovely holiday time, whatever it means to you, however you celebrate it. Your engagement on this blog means a lot to me – gifts you’ve given throughout the year. Thank you.