I am sliding down Christmas' glitter pole
I mean, why not?
I spent this past Saturday setting up the tree (above), and then on Sunday, I moved outdoors and hung lights.
This is a departure from Young Fundamentalist Me. Young Fundamentalist Me spent more hours than Old Faithful Me wants to count trying to convince people that Jesus wasn’t born in December, which therefore made Christmas (Christ MASS, get it?) null and void. Given the clues — shepherds in the field and such — he most likely was born in the spring.
I mean, come on, people. Can’t you see it?
Fundamentalism is a grind, and I, queen literal of the specious, was the grindiest. I now look at YFM as I look at people who bah-humbug holiday cheer because they don’t personally like the holiday. They don’t have to like it, of course, but efforts to make it less-than for others who enjoy it is just rude.
Had Christians like me not been so insufferably snotty, this could have been a lovely holiday for all. What’s not to like about giving gifts and turning on bright lights and eating fudge? I still don’t pay much attention to Baby Jesus (fundamentalism is a sword broken off in me) but I’m OK that people do. I mean, the miracle and magic (I know that’s a loaded word) of a celestial (that is, too) baby is really kind of beautiful.
Believe me, my Christmas-ing is not to the exclusion of the 14 other holidays that fall in December. It is simply one of them, and the one with which I’m most familiar. (I also love the seven principles of Kwanzaa, though I’m still learning.) The world is too big for me to I get my knickers in a twist when shopkeepers say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” A polite greeting that’s meant to include everyone is actually quite perfect.
And so I decorate. I answer letters local children write to Santa. I send Christmas cards, bake cookies and make mountains of fudge. A few of my ornaments (bought for me by well-meaning friends) are of manger scenes but mostly I have Santas and bears (I don’t know why I have so many bears) and beautiful glass snowflakes.
Whatever. This all makes me happy. The Christmas I’ve crafted is a beautiful platform from which to plunge into the cold, dark winter. Happy Holidays all around.
The Husband sets up a manger. Personally, I could live without it, but it's "traditional" in the christian world. (The Husband bailed on organized religion (but reads the bible daily) with the Orange Menace was elected, and I've been a heathen since the Catholic sex scandals came to light.) We put baby Jesus in there, and people have said we shouldn't put it there until xmas morning. Yeah, whatever. Other than that, there are no religious decorations. My tree is topped with a small sombrero, and is decorated with ornaments I've purchased in my travels. While I'm not a big fan of the holidays, I do love my ornaments. And I do love them with a side of "snark". (There's a few PG/R rated ornaments on the tree.) What would the fundies say about the lovely embroidered piece that hangs front and center from the decorative screen that says "Well Hung"?
Your comments today have totally deflated what is left of this old man's ego. When asked to give my birthdate for a medical visit or some other sort of ID required transaction I ofter hear back, "oh you're a Christmas baby" to which my canned reply has always been, "yes, me, Jesus and Jimmy Buffett." As Jimmy died this past September and now that you've revealed that Jesus was NOT born on 12/25 I stand with thousands of other peons who just happened to drop out of the womb on that once famous date! So if I hear the comment about being a "Christmas" baby I will act as if my hearing aids need new batteries! Merry whatever you celebrate in this cold dark season we are now in:))