In the words of Charles Dickens:

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas
brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment.  How many
families, whose members have been dispersed and scattered far
and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited, and
meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual
goodwill, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight;
and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world,
that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude
traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the
first joys of a future condition of existence, provided for the
blessed and happy!  How many old recollections, and how many
dormant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken!

We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot
at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous
circle.  Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have
ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then,
have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the
eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old
house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest,
the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected
with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each
recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but
yesterday!  Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the
delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the
pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the
traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and
his quiet home!
(The Pickwick Papers, Chapter 28)

The other day a friend and I were discussing the fact that Christmas is the only time of year when we go buy a dessicated highly resinous conifer and bring it into our homes, swathe it in cheap electrical wires and bits of plastic and mylar, stand it up next to a fireplace (if we have one), surround it with a kindling pile of cardboard boxes wrapped in shiny paper, and then light a whole bunch of candles.  It inspired me to burst into song.  "It's the most flam-ma-ble tiiiiiime of the yeeeeeear…"

"Well," said my friend, "You've got to make sure to instill the season with the most potential heartbreak and pathos.  And nothing does that quite like burning down your house on Christmas Eve."  

So, can I see a show of hands in the house?  How many of you hate Christmas?  How many of you look upon this season with a mixture of dread and self loathing, knowing that all of the ways in which you are inadequate, financially and otherwise are about to be unavoidably brought to your attention?  Who else here hears the keening dog-whistle of anxiety start up around Halloween and gradually increase in volume and intensity until your ears are bleeding by about Christmas Eve?  Ah, yes.  I thought so.

It's okay.  Take a deep breath.  It's just eight more days. 

However, I am going to make a pledge to you guys.  This year, I am going to try to do my best to embrace the positive aspects of the season.  I am going to take this next week to really be grateful for my awesome family and to try and bring as much happiness and joy to the people who I love as I possibly can.  Generally, this time of year makes me really sad, but I am going to really try and keep keep it out of the ditch this year.  I intend to love this pagan festival of light and renewal for what it is.  A time to eat carbs and shine pretty lights in the darkness.  A time to pray for the souls who have passed and to cherish the love of the ones who are still here with us in spite of our best efforts to make them insane and/or drive them away.  (Hooray for enablers!)

Anybody with me?  Come on!  It'll be great.  

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