Sunday, December 19, 2010
Strange Fruit, the name I gave our last argument, for the want of a Christmas rose. One of us wants it the other one doesn’t. So sad, someone discovered that Santa Claus wasn’t real. But hope lives in the heart of the one who cries, “Be born in us, be born in our world!”
So much rage against rituals, the endless traditions, evil material trappings that also trap the heart and mind.
“Oh you petty things, no one believes in this pagan crap! This is all about the kids getting to open a lot of presents!”
And so the wild “anti-your-Christmas Music” music blares on while I type this letter.
I had a good cry and a bloody nose ensued earlier. I cried when I heard my cousin’s voice in a letter ending in a blessing to me. What else is there in life than to be known and loved?
Why my love, does your heart not leap to share the joy and wonder of Christmas with your dear wife who loves you so much? Isn’t the birth of Christ, who showed humanity the way to end death itself, equal if not as grand as Santa Claus?
If I live to give you anything may it be to realize the simple truth of it. Anticipation for love so pure and true can’t be anything but goodness springing from heart to heart, from the very youngest to the very eldest.
What then is this strange fruit of Christmas past doing in our Christmas present? The warmth and glow of our love and our lives is all that and more of a gift to one another.