Various Christmas thoughts of 2006
It is raining.
About 17 years ago, I would have entertained the thought of whether or not Santa would be bothered by the rain. I say "entertained the thought" because I don't remember ever really believing in Santa. Not before school age, and definitely not after. I very well may have been the kid who shattered all the other kindergartener's magical worlds of imagination. This is probably how it went down: "Nuh-uh, dummy. There's no way Santa could fit down a chimney, even a really big one. I've been to your house. You don't even have a chimney." The other kid would start sniffling a little, and back away slightly, uneased by my logic. I would then say something like, "And what about all those starving kids in other parts of the world? If Santa has magic, wouldn't he bring them a magic refrigerator or something so they would never run out of food?" I can just see the little eyes blinking back the tears. I would finish with a deprecating, "only kindergarten babies believe in Santa Claus anyway," probably prompting a round of "Kindergarten baby, stick your head in gravy..." at which point the kid would run off sobbing, tell the teacher, and I would spend the rest of the day with my nose against the wall.
I was a mean kid.
But it will be Christmas in one hour and forty minutes. My family just got back home from our grandparents' house. It was a good time I guess. I spent the evening eating lots of broccoli casserole, laughing at jokes that weren't really that funny, trying to conceal my new tattoo from my grandmother, snoozing, smiling appreciatively at my new portable air compressor, and marveling at the jacket I received that looks exactly like the one I unwrapped two years ago while sitting in that same spot. Grandparents are clueless sometimes, but it's funny how little things like weird presents can rekindle your fondness for them.
On the tattoo front, my hip is extremely angry at me right now. It is swollen beyond all recognition, bulging out like one massive love handle. And my mom thinks it's funny to poke me in the side whenever she has the chance. Serves me right, she says, for wanting to look like a sailor. I hope it heals up soon. Even if it is a little infected, it should take care of itself. I would probably be more worried if it was another body part, but I can't think of anything more unlikely to fall off than my hip.
One hour till the big day. This time 2000 years ago, give or take, Mary was pretty uncomfortable. That's something to think about. I wonder if Jesus just popped out, or if He gave her a hard time. Don't ask those kind of questions in Sunday School, though, or they'll talk to your parents...