this does not feel like christmas...everything is all weird. my brother is half way across the world and we did everything backwards. the damned tv has been on constantly since my dad got it yesterday. i hate having the tv on...it is a way to diconnect. more than anything i want to throw something at it. never do i want to be someone who is centered around a f**king box. what makes me frustrated is that christmas is about being with people and yet my dad is unable to be with my brother and me, hence the blaring box. i wish that my family was normal again that we could talk together.
my little brother and i were able to have some good conversations today. i am so impressed by him. he has found belief and faith and his thoughts on his own terms. i really respect him, especially for have and exploring theology that differs so much from my dad (who still purchases "endtimes" videos some of you i am sure can just picture the steam rising from my ears when i come across them). why is truly being with people so hard, especially ones family?
i wish that i could go back to christmas when my mom was ok and my grandma was alive. maybe the one where i was ten and my dad's whole family was here...the few times it happened i loved spending time with all my cousins and aunts and uncles. i want something like that...i want to be with my aunties, to laugh and cry and share deeply and be touched and loved on. i want babies to cuddle and people to flirt with. that is christmas. i would give up the stuff for the people.
if i ever get married that is what i want a celebration with family and friends to be surrounded by those who love you.
we have listen to some of the sufjan stevens christmas albums...i am blown away by the beauty of his music. thought come to mind of simple christmas of the importance of being with people and having the sacraments of food, delight, laughter, joy. the companionship of being part of the body of believers, sitting and thinking about what it means that God creator of all..being before being came to earth in space and time (the limited scope of a human life) as a tiny baby. the greatness of life and time was incarnated in the fragile frame of an innocent helpless newborn child. i cannot help but be paused in my typing as i write that. how ever could my small mind even begin to fathem what that truly means or what that cost? it would be like the painter of a great master piece suddenly becoming one small brushstroke in a painting. even my attempt at likened imagery does this no justice...the Being of beingness became a vuneral child born in a stable to a younge girl.