Davis, Carson, and I took our seats at church, Sunday night, after we'd had a little bit of family squabbling among us. The service began with scripture reading and Christmas carols and I wasn't thinking about much of anything besides how mad I was at the men sitting on either side of me. I'm sure I'm just totally alone in this, but, sometimes, even at Christmas time, I could wring the necks of those whom I hold dear.....in the most loving way that a person could possibly wring a neck, of course. Well, it's hard to concentrate on the birth of the Christ child when all you really want to do is slap some nearby people silly, so that's exactly what I was thinking about, mostly. Then, everyone in the congregation was given a candle and the lights were dimmed. So, my thoughts went from wringing to slapping to possibly just scorching them with my candle. Not setting them on fire or anything, because, well, I wasn't that mad, but a little singed earlobe might do the trick. Church was over and we continued our little misunderstanding back in the car until we finally all got over it, while delivering Christmas gifts. I'd been looking forward to that candlelight Christmas service and, sadly, it didn't turn out quite like I'd expected.

I didn't send cards out, this year. I just never got it all together. I haven't been happy with our Christmas tree since we brought it home. Work schedules are going to cut some visits short, this time around. One of our favorite Christmas gatherings with friends will have an absence, this year. I've had some last minute doubts about a couple of my gift choices. And, yes, sometimes, our family members get on each other's nerves and we take the nerve irritation into church and sit it down on the pew right next to us, ok?

Three years ago, I wrote about imperfections at Christmastime and, partly due to being too busy to write, right here before Christmas, and, partly because I don't think I could write myself a more timely reminder, I'm going to do a repost from a few years ago. 

The perfect Christmas.

I think we, women, put a lot a pressure on ourselves to achieve that for our families, each year.  I mean, let's face it....we do carry most of the burden of the Christmas bustle and preparation.  Not knocking you, men, and I know there are exceptions, but Christmas is usually our domain. Of course, Davis works hard to finance a huge chunk of Christmas and, yes, he climbs up the attic stairs and gets all of the boxes down when it's time to decorate. Oh, and he does cut a couple of inches off of our Christmas tree trunk and secures it in the tree stand. But, let's talk straight here.....past that, the ball's in my court. A majority of the things that the kids open on Christmas morning, well, he'll be just as surprised as they are by them.

Now, I'm not complaining. I love it and wouldn't have it any other way, even though it does become a draining task to buy all the gifts for both sides of the family and for friends, wrap them, decorate the house, send the Christmas cards, plan meals, shop for food, cook, coordinate visits, figure out complicated family holiday schedules, and purchase things needed for all the parties everyone has to attend. 

Whew.

Some years, everything falls into place perfectly and Christmas goes off without a hitch. It's a beautiful experience. Other times, it's just a bumpy ride all the way to the New Year. Nothing seems to go right and you're just ready to pack up the decorations and move on. 

As moms and wives and aunts and grandmothers, we just want to make things nice for everyone at Christmas time. We want to give our family the kind of Christmas we see in the Hallmark movies.  Everyone is happy and there are no complicated family dynamics with which we have to work around. The tree is perfectly decorated and the lights are all working. No one is under the weather.  Travel goes smoothly. The food has never been better....just enough moistness and seasoning and browned to the peak of perfection. The gifts are so perfectly suited for each recipient that there are shrieks of joy and tears of gratitude. There is a nip in the air and a light snowfall lays a blanket of wintry beauty upon the landscape. A fire is crackling in the fireplace. Everyone is all warm and cozy in the embrace of kith and kin. All are full of love for one another and sentimental emotion wells up from the depths of each heart. Each Christmas dream comes true. 

As women, that's the gift we want to give our families, every year. 

In reality, we may find things to be not quite so ideal. Sometimes, the cornbread dressing is dry and the rolls get too brown on the bottom. Sometimes, we realize, too late, that we should've doubled the sweet potato recipe. Even the recipients of our gifts may want to know if we kept the receipt. Sometimes, as it is for us this year, Christmas is forecasted to be 80 degrees and the sound of the air conditioner will take the place of a crackling fire. Could be that half the family is sick with a terrible cold thing that's going around and it has them sounding like a bunch of barking seals. Maybe there are some undercurrents of family strife that could make things a little awkward. Could be that scheduling didn't come together this year and there will be some empty chairs at the table. Sometimes, the middle string of tree lights go out and you can't find the problem bulb to save your life. 

And, no matter how smoothly we think Christmas goes, it's always a letdown to clean up all the ripped boxes and torn paper off the floor. To wave at the family as they pull out of the driveway. To pack it all up.....those decorations we were so excited about less than a month ago. 

All that time. All that work. All that excitement. All that buildup. All that preparation. Over. And, often times, the reality didn't quite live up to the weeks of picturesque visions we'd had leading up to the big day. 

I was thinking about the imperfections of Christmas both past and present and its failure to, sometimes, meet our expectations. The first Christmas was anything but perfect. My goodness. Talk about a Christmas gone wrong, at least, from where we stand. 

Mary, God bless her, didn't plan on being a young, unmarried, pregnant virgin and experiencing the whispers and judgment that would've come along with that. She wouldn't have imagined going on such a treacherous trip as pregnant as she was and her baby being born while she was far away from the help of her mother and the other women in her family. She likely didn't expect there to be no place for them to stay when they got to Bethlehem. She probably wouldn't have chosen a barn as the perfect setting to have her first child. Joseph didn't prefer that Mary would mysteriously become pregnant and having to deal with the embarrassment and doubt that caused him. They wouldn't have chosen to place their first baby in a feeding trough or have the stench of animals nearby. Strangers from out in a field weren't who they'd imagined would be surrounding them after their child's birth. And they wouldn't have expected to soon be on the run for their new son's safety. From our human viewpoint, there was nothing that went right on that first Christmas. Not a birth story that we'd ever want to experience. Not the beginning we'd wish for any child in our family.   

But, maybe God wanted Christmas to be a little less than perfect. Maybe He came in that way to show us that we can triumph in the imperfections of this life. To give us hope in all of our Plan Bs. To demonstrate that good can come from flawed situations. To remind us His plans are better than our plans. To show us that sometimes greatness has unexpected or lowly beginnings. To prove that life doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful or useful. To display how He can work with less than ideal circumstances. To reveal to us that His idea of perfection may not always be the same as ours.  

Maybe when Christmas doesn't go off without a hitch is when we're actually experiencing Christmas in its truest form. Could be when we look around and it doesn't look like the pictures in the storybooks or the glittery front of a Christmas card is when we're closest to the spirit of that first Christmas. 

Maybe, we could dial back our pursuit of the perfect Christmas and take some of the pressure off of ourselves if we remember that the Son of God came into the world in what seemed to be the most imperfect way. It was a day when nothing appeared to go right. It was a day when expectations were not met. And yet, it was an event that had been planned from the very beginning. With all the time in the world to prepare. With any and all resources at His disposal. And that was the way He decided it should be. A King carried in an unmarried mother's womb. Birthed in a smelly stable. Surrounded by animals and strangers. 

To the human eye, it was all wrong. But, to Him, it was perfect. 

It was a perfectly imperfect Christmas.

And so I hope that your family embraces the spirit of Jesus' birth. 

And I hope you and those you love enjoy a very Merry Christmas! 

Its warts and all.
 

I feel it's my duty, as your friend, to make this public service announcement as we round the corner to that most special time of year. I know we're all excited about the Christmas season, but we need to take a moment to be reminded that we're being told that we can't go out and celebrate Christmas just any ol' way we please anymore. No, in today's society, there are new rules to which we're being asked to conform in order to keep others from being forced to run for their safe spaces, this holiday season. We certainly wouldn't want that, would we? In order to avoid being labeled insensitive to the diverse population, here are some reminders of what is now deemed appropriate and inappropriate during this celebratory time of year according to news stories from around our country.

First off.....the candy cane, which was created 350 years ago, should now be dispensed with caution and extreme discretion. The red and white confection is formed in the shape of the letter, J, which stands for Jesus, which can induce anxiety and uncomfortable feelings for some. The sight of a J or any object that resembles a J should be avoided in consideration of those who might take offense. So, out of respect for others, I am changing my name to Oni. From now on, call me Oni.....that is, until someone becomes offended by O, which stands for the Omega.....and then I'll just be Ni. But, Jesus was from Nazareth and the N might be a reminder of that, so just call me I. Nobody appears to have a problem with I, these days. It's all about I, it seems.

Of course, even the PC amateurs among us know that you no longer refer to this time of year as the Christmas season. Please, don't ask when the schools close for Christmas break and make everyone around you shift uncomfortably in their seats. Geez. Schools have winter breaks. And when referring to the tree in your den, please remember it is a holiday tree, so not to offend. Even the word, holiday, is now hanging by a thread as it suggests religious tradition. Some religions don't have a December holiday. How are they supposed to feel when you put up a holiday tree in the office? The word is safe for now, but is rapidly becoming a trigger. I'll keep you posted on the word's status for next year. To satisfy yet not offend, we're encouraged to bring trees in and decorate them to celebrate "Winter Festival". Winter is a season, which is all inclusive. It offends no one and excludes no one. They don't think so, at least. 

For 70 years now, generations have enjoyed the catchy jingle, "Baby, It's Cold Outside". We've memorized its lyrics and countless singers have recorded their versions of the timeless favorite. Thankfully, it has been brought to our attention by the enlightened that this song is actually a song about sexual assault and I know that I am, personally, embarrassed that I've hummed along with such filth all these years. Apparently, it's the widely recognized theme song for predators. Please, for your own good, turn the dial if you hear this song being played on the radio and boycott all singers, who have ever put this garbage on one of their winter albums. The singers' careers must be destroyed for ever having encouraged such sexually violent behavior. And any statues erected in the likeness of those late singers, who have passed on, will likely need to be removed. They'll be coming for your stars on the Walk of Fame, Mr. Martin and Mr. Sinatra.  

It's been noted that the nativity story has some parts that are teetering on the line of being sexist, seeing as how there were no wisewomen among the three, who traveled to Bethlehem. Surely, there were women, who were well qualified to fill one of the positions. Certainly, there was one woman capable enough to follow a star and carry the myrrh or the frankincense to Jesus. And, yes, even the gold. The fact that they were excluded makes many women feel inferior and oppressed. Think of the message this sends to young girls......you can never be among the wise. So, when telling the story of the birth of Jesus, in a religiously-safe setting, of course, it might be just as well to leave that part out to avoid the reminder of historical discrimination. If you must remain Biblically correct and include them, please refer to them as wisepeople, which is more palatable. And while we're on the subject, if it snows, make a snowperson with your children. Snowman leaves half of the world's population wondering why their sex can never be formed from wintry precipitation. It's just an unnecessary pain inflicted on others. The same applies when singing traditional carols. New versions...."God Rest You, Merry Gentlepeople" and "The Little Drummer Person". So, so much better.

And when you speak of Jesus being born a man, in a religiously-safe environment, well, that is an oversimplification of the issue of gender. You can't just say someone is born a man. This is why, in your winter festival celebrations, you should refrain from using pronouns.You could be fired for something so appalling. Just ask the professor in Ohio, who's in the unemployment line for making such a gross and horrifying mistake. They and their should now take the place of the he, she, hers, and his, which were used erroneously from the Garden of Eden up until 2017. Don't we all feel silly now?   

In the event that you organize a live nativity, please make it culturally sensitive and not dress the characters in costumes that would have been typical of that day. Wisepeople wearing those headpieces, for example, might be viewed as poking fun and generalizing an entire culture of people. For this same reason, Halloween costumes, which include items such as sombreros or hula skirts should also be avoided. College campuses have prohibited these disgusting displays and with good reason. With that in mind, wisepeople, as an alternative, could wear khakis and a t-shirt....of course, t-shirts without offensive print on them like American flags, Washington Redskins logos, or any brands which make or sell firearms.  

When traveling, this holiday season, here's another gentle reminder. This one will be especially difficult for the Southerners. You can no longer ask people where they are from. This is very important. Since the beginning of time, we've ignorantly asked strangers this ice breaking question, but we're enlightened enough now to know this implies an attitude of superiority. It suggests that "you don't belong here". Our past ignorance makes me blush every time I think about how many people I must have offended. Let's try to do better, people.  

When you sing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Winter Festival", please omit the first verse as it assumes that Janice and Jen want a doll and Barney and Ben want a pair of boots and a pistol. Well, that is wrong on so many levels. You can't just sing stuff like that. If Janice or Jen wants a pair of boots, well, the song makes them feel abnormal. And you'd have to be a fool to sing about a pistol anyway.....especially one "that shoots". And giving them to children? Which brings me to another reminder to throw away your DVDs of The Christmas Story. Children and gun violence are clearly rooted in these types of songs and movies. It's obviously what's wrong with our society, today. I can't think of anything else it could be. Additionally, protesters should attack Nerf employees where they live and work for their violent influence on our society with their foam shooting weapons. Just despicable.

When asked to send paper products to the kiddos' Winter Festival parties at school, it has been requested by some school districts to avoid the colors, red and green, as they are too closely associated with Christmas, which is associated with Christ, which causes stampedes toward safe spaces, everywhere. Instead, please consider their requests for white or silver plates. Nothing says "this is gonna be a fun, fun time" like white paper tableware. These are winter colors, though, and, as I stated earlier, they can't think of any reason winter would offend anyone. I can only assume when these same people approach an intersection, they are thrown into panic. Green lights. Red lights. I know I immediately think of our Savior's birth when I see that traffic-controlling color combination. Which is why we shouldn't be surprised if 2019 is the year we see traffic lights changed to white for go and silver for stop. With such a subtle color difference, there are sure to be more accidents, but, at least, no one will be offended as they're loaded into the ambulance and that's what's most important in this day and time.

And if you're a teacher or childcare worker, it is advised that you not make any holiday tree ornaments at craft time. This just assumes that everyone has a holiday tree, which assumes that every family participates in Winter Festival. It should go without saying, but making holiday cards are frowned upon, too, as a child might offer them to someone, who doesn't celebrate any December holidays and the tragic ripple effect of that would likely never see an end. So, no more construction paper embellished with glitter stuck to mounds of Elmer's glue. Basically, anything related to Santa, stars, carols, or obviously angels, should not be included in any classroom activities, because of their link to Christianity. More acceptable crafts would be images of neutral objects like sleds, hats, earmuffs, hot chocolate, and gingerbread people. Oh, and snowflakes, which we're seeing more and more of now. There's practically a blizzard of "snowflakes". But, winter is all inclusive. So, just go with that.  

And for the love of winter, please, don't allow your children to watch Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It's nothing but an hour packed with non-stop bullying and characters imposing their feelings of superiority upon others. Since 1964, this classic has polluted the minds of boys and girls and is clearly the reason for the spike in bullying that we're seeing here in 2018. There are no other conceivable reasons why bullying would be on the rise besides this brain washing cartoon. What else could we possibly be doing to create the spike? If only we'd known sooner, we'd be so much better off today. How foolish, we've been.

There are other things to consider as we celebrate. Singing "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire" might induce anxiety in those with nut allergies like my son. End of fiscal year parties are suggested for annual office parties instead of Christmas parties. Might be hard to find a tacky end of fiscal year sweater, but ok. Christmas music is now strongly discouraged at holiday parties. An upbeat playlist of popular music is now suggested. I know for me, at least, nothing says Christmas is here like "Love Shack" or "Funkytown".

So, I know there's a lot to remember, but I wouldn't want anyone to accuse you of being insensitive or unenlightened, this Christmas. There are new rules being written, everyday, that make it less and less acceptable to publicly celebrate the real reason for Christmas. Admittedly, I don't see a lot of these kinds of stories down here in the Bible belt buckle, but I know they're coming as more and more institutions cave to the pressure of the PC crowd, each day.  

I guess I'd just like to say to all of those guideline-writing people.....

Merry Christmas.

and Jesus loves you.....even though I'm having some trouble.

He's the real reason for your winter festival season.

And no new rules will ever change that.

"She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name, Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." Matthew 1:21   
   
  

When I left for work, just before lunch, President Bush's casket was being loaded onto Air Force One and his family was boarding the plane. When I got back home, mid-afternoon, his body was being carried up the steps of the Capitol as the U.S. Army Band played "A Mighty Fortress is Our God". Just beautiful. Before his eventual burial, he'll lie in state at the Capitol until Wednesday, when his state funeral will be held at the Washington National Cathedral. Then, his body will head back to Houston for a couple of more ceremonies before lying in repose at St Martin's Episcopal Church, where another funeral service will take place on Thursday. Then, the casket will leave by train for College Station and there will be another ceremony at Texas A&M before he is finally buried next to his wife and daughter behind the Bush Library. I'm tired just from typing it all out, so I can't imagine how his family will feel by week's end. It'll be hard to find a channel on TV that won't continue covering his life and his death until he's finally laid to rest. He was our president and it's what you'd expect when someone of his importance dies.

Our country has beautiful ceremonial traditions when it comes to saying goodbye to its leaders and its heroes. I always enjoy watching the meticulous details of the ceremonies and especially the precision of the soldiers' movements as they perform their duties. We've had several chances, lately, to see those played out with Billy Graham and John McCain's deaths. A lot of pageantry and solemnity on display.

Not long ago, we all watched the televised funeral of Aretha Franklin. It was the climax of a week long trail of events, which ended with quite a lengthy funeral service. Politicians, famous ministers, musicians, actors and actresses. There weren't many unrecognizable names written in the star studded guest book. It was like a red carpet event. She was the queen of soul and was honored by the masses, who wished to recognize her notable contributions to the music world. I mean, who didn't love Aretha?  

At the opposite end of life, Prince Harry and Meghan are expecting their first child in April. The press had a complete fit when they heard the news. They tend to do that when royals reproduce. They'll be waiting breathlessly to hear any new information concerning the birth. Any hint of the smallest new detail will spread like wildfire. And, surely, when they emerge from the hospital in the spring, holding the bundled royal, there will be cameras going off like mad....just like they did when Harry's brother introduced his children, heirs to the throne, to the world for the first time. Any sort of outing the couple has with their baby, from that day on, will be on magazine covers before dark falls.

Well, there's one thing, for sure. Most of our parents weren't greeted outside the hospital with an army of reporters and cameras waiting to get a glimpse of our newborn selves. I know that the public, at large, wasn't much interested in seeing Doug and Carolyn heading home with little Joni wrapped in her pink blanket back in the late 60's. Not much headline there. Ordinary parents welcome ordinary baby in ordinary Mississippi town. Well, I did have an extraordinary head full of black hair, but I still don't think that would've sold many papers.

And let's face it....most of us won't be honored with a state funeral or a flyover or a 21 gun salute. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I feel certain my dead body will never see any kind of rotunda and my casket will not be allowed to sit on the same wooden platform used for Abraham Lincoln. There won't be a guard of honor anywhere around unless they're in the vicinity for someone else. And I haven't picked them just yet, but I have a feeling my pallbearers won't be quite as skilled as those guys are and I would probably end up at the bottom of the 300+ steps leading up to the Capitol. Sprawled out there on the ground with all of them scrambling to figure out how to get me back in the box in the most dignified manner. I can't imagine there would be many distinguished ways to do that. Kind of like somebody trying to get you up on a pool float, you know? Yeah, it's probably just best that I'm not a dignitary.

But, we're not alone. There's somebody else who didn't get that kind of grand welcome or that type of impressive send off either. A stable wouldn't be the setting we'd choose for a VIP to be born with only unkept shepherds and stinky animals there to share the parents' joy. Not quite the paparazzi, huh? And, at the end of His life, Jesus died in the most humiliating way. He died while being ridiculed and degraded. And talk about a small and understated funeral. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus prepared Him for burial with spices and linen and placed Him in a tomb. Only the two guys and a couple of Marys are mentioned as being there. That's it. No procession of chariots or large crowds or famous singers or pomp of any kind.

We have our ways of treating people, who are seen as important in this world. Some of them are deemed important just by being born into a certain family. Others gain their importance, later in life, by some achievement or status they acquire. But, nobody really noticed a baby born to an unwed mother in a barn. No national day of mourning was declared after He died between two criminals with the spittle of His killers on His face....even though, no other man has ever been born of both God and man as He was. He was royalty straight from the throne of Heaven. And no other man has ever achieved anything close to bridging the gap that sin put between God and us like He did. No other man could ever offer more to the world than eternal life like He did.

And He did it all so quietly. So humbly. And with no fanfare.

Not to, in any way, bash our longstanding national traditions or take anything away from the lives and contributions of our dignitaries, but no matter how large their funeral attendance or how many days their farewells last, when the bands quit playing and all of the limousines pull away, they're just like us...their only hope lies in a man, who came into the world and left it in the most unpretentious and humble ways.

Jesus is the only way.

Our humble King.