Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Most Sundays in the very recent past, I've been blogging over at The Spoiled Priest. I'm going to break stride and stay at The Shame today. I appreciate all the comments you've pinned to the wall here, thoughts and such about Meggie's story. They mean more to me than you know. Based on your comments, the story meant more to you than I'll know, so I guess we're even.

This is my hands-down-most-favorite-time-of-the-year. I'm pretty sure it's always been that way with me, just something I love about being all Christmassy. And while some of the high-falutin'-spiritual ilk tend to shy away from the cultural swamps of the season, I happily wade knee-deep through it all, slathered in sentiment, with little Judy's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas ringing in my ears. And I apologize not one whit for it.

I watch Charlie Brown every year, every year, and weep like a baby when Linus reminds us of what Christmas is really about. I also watch Frosty every year, every year, and I'm always relieved when that Christmas wind blows in the greenhouse and brings the blessed snowman back to life; something about little Karen crying tears of loss that reminds me of long lay the world, in sin and error pining. From the Ray Conniff singers in high fidelity to It's a Wonderful Life in black and white, I love it all. I've even got room in my pack for Feliz Navidad, no kidding.

And as for Santa Claus, well, I believe we need to tread lightly there, dear reader. How can you not believe in Saint Nick, whom we have seen, and then say you believe in God, whom you've not seen? I hold to the theory, purely my own, that John the Baptist became Santa Claus. I kid you not. When the fiery prophet was beheaded, God gave him the option of coming back as anyone he wanted to and John said well, I'd still like to keep pointing them to the One who is coming, but I'd really love an upgrade in clothing and diet. I'm fine to keep the beard and girth of my former life. And God said consider it done, John. They'll probably want to worship you, like they did before, but just keep pointing. To replace your leathers, how about this red fabric with gold buttons; kinda snazzy, don'tcha think? And yes, locusts are great for a season, but after that, well, not so much. How about milk and cookies? And concerning all that former crying, how about laughter this go'round? Instead of telling them to repent, ask them what they really want. There'll still be long lines to see you, crying babies and all. But just keep pointing. I'll be back again someday. And John said let it be to me as You have said. And God said oh, and John, the words reserved for me are holy, holy, holy; since you're close but no cigar, how about ho, ho, ho?

Well, I've got to get ready for church. We're lighting the fourth candle of Advent this morning, the last one before the Christ candle. I simply love this time of year...