What Christmas Has Become

I don't have time to be sitting here, typing.  I wanted to write it while the details were fresh in my mind.

I've caught myself thinking, in secret, "I hate Christmas."  This statement does not actually, literally mean that I hate Christmas.  I hate what it is today.  I went to the grocery store on Monday and the parking lot was packed.  It was raining and I had to hike a quarter mile from my parking space to the store.  A typical seven minuet drive can take up to twenty minuets due to the shoppers on the road, all on the hunt for that one special, perfect gift.

Bah humbug.  Yeah, you heard me.  When I was a child, it was much more simple.  All my family, extended cousins included, would gather at my grandmother's house for warmth, fellowship, shredded wrapping paper and mounds of food.  All it is anymore is time spent in the car, in line, waiting, searching, sorting, wrapping....

At Wal-Mart today I had actual groceries to get as well as a handful of gifts; a few pounds of candy for my Aunt Louise who is stuck in a nursing home, a couple gift cards.  I picked a non-threatening line and awaited to check out my items.  I waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  I anxiously tore at the package of my nicotine gum and feigned patience.

The lady in front of me scrutinized every price of every item.  She claimed those specific tomatoes were listed as $1.84 and not $1.87 as they had rung up.

LADY, HERE'S THREE CENTS; HERE'S FIVE DOLLARS NOW LET'S GO!!!!!!!

I was not aware until it was finally my turn what was the main cause for the slow progression of the check out line.  The cashier had one normal arm and one tiny, short arm.  Do not misunderstand me.  I do not fault this woman for her abnormality.  I fault stupid Wal-Mart for placing this poor woman as a cashier approximately 11 days from Christmas.  In hindsight, there is an older fellow who also has a similar abnormality and he pushes a broom up and down the ailes.  It works great for him and Wal-Mart. 

For this reason, I stood in line for twenty minuets (or six hours).  Next, I hit the mall to pick up an order I had placed for Mom to help her out (for Shawn's God-awful jeans size--the freak) and to pick up more gift cards for my four nieces.

Dear God, the mall.  There's a reason I never go in there.  By the time I was done, it was raining good and hard and I had developed pit stains from pushing through the mobs.  On the way home, the thoughts of what Christmas used to be and what it has become tumbled in my mind.

An old mix CD played in the stereo and out of the blue, unexpected, Sarah McLaughlin began to sing, "This, this is Christ the King...." 

As I drove what we affectionately call The Back Loop, I began to sob.  This was not just any cry.  This was the kind of cry that produces seriously high-pitched inhales, gasping for breath, and weeping.  Once home, it was over.  The front of my shirt was wet.  The feeling of overwhelm had vanished as the members of Linkin Park played "New Divide" over the speakers. 

Make lunches, feed the dogs, the cat, separate the receipts and mark the budget, put away laundry, mark the purchase orders for the business, meet Gloria and her husband for a business dinner at 7 o'clock.....  I rallied my brain to reset because I had one million things to get done and only a few short hours to do them in.

Because this is what Christmas has become....