But the HALEY, who lived just north of Suffolk, DID NOT.
At church on Sunday, Preacher Bob (yes, that is his official name) gave a sermon about "Those who do not welcome Christmas." I think, perhaps, my father-in-law had called Preacher Bob ahead of time and tipped him off that I would be attending Main Street United Methodist that Sunday and he had better write a nice little sermon aimed directly at me. Or maybe the stress is making me even more paranoid than usual.
The point of the sermon (if I absorbed everything correctly) was to remind us that even if, for whatever reason--illness, finances, time constraints--we think Christmas sucks, we are wrong. We should embrace Christmas because it celebrates the birth of our Lord, and the thought of that blessing alone should be enough to put us in the holiday spirit.
Now, theoretically, that makes sense. Emotionally, not so much. (I would try to blame it all on the fact that I am not a Methodist and thus don't understand their beliefs, but since I'm technically Presbyterian and Methodists are pretty similar, I can't really get away with that excuse. I also considered that, according to the changes made in the calendar over hundreds of years, scholars claim that Christ was most likely actually born in what is now our October, which really screws with my head if I think about it. Jesus and Halloween just don't match up to me. But if true, that would mean that Christmas was, in fact, over in all ways but symbolically, and not in need of celebration. But, I digress.) Emotionally, Christmas makes me queasy this year. Trees and songs and wrapping paper and Gingerbread Lattes all make me want to vomit. Literally. I can't handle celebration while my Dad is so sick. It's hard to watch the kids be so excited, understanding that they don't "get it," but even so. It's painful.
I'm hoping next year, as sad as it may be, I'll feel less awful. But this year....well, this year, is like the line from "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." We'll just have to muddle through somehow.