This Christmas I started to feel my age catching up with me. Over the hill is no longer 40 year old. It's 22 and a half. I have reached a point in my old age where I now say things like, "On Christmas Eve, I picked up my parents from the airport and brought them back to my house and cooked pot pie for dinner."
Someone pick out a coffin for me now. My life is coming to a close.
So, maybe, I'm being a little dramatic.
That is what happened though.
On Christmas Eve, I picked up my parents from the airport and brought them back to my house and cooked pot pie for dinner.
No, not the 65 cent frozen pot pies that you put in the microwave for 15 minutes. You know? The ones that dads buy for dinner when moms are out of town (maybe that was just in my house?). The ones with a questionable spongy meat that the label says is chicken, but you know is definitely NOT chicken? Anybody? Anybody?
Anyways. Not that kind. The homemade kind. The kind that is actually delicious. And all of the ingredients are recognizeable.
I felt so grown-up.
More important news in my family, however, is that my little brother is actually not so little anymore, and has now surpassed me in height. He has, however, not surpassed me in intelligence or good looks. Let's just be honest.
On Christmas day, I took my family to the church I have been attending regularly, St. Aloysius, a Jesuit parish. The priest sounds like James Earl Jones, and I have to admit I have a little crush on him. And yes, I am aware that Catholic priests can't get married. We walked a mile and a half in the snow and ice while being greeted by many a happy holiday-wishing homeless person.
Later that day, we went out to Frederick, MD to visit my uncle and his family. We had a spectacular time eating, laughing, playing Wii, going bowling, and laying around. We stayed there for a few days before coming back into the District.
My parents were incredibly generous with their giving of food, time, movie tickets, and margaritas.
They headed back to Texas on Saturday. The visit, as they always are, was too short, but our time together over the holidays was an incredible blessing.
Among all of the joyfulness of this season, I also spent some time reflecting on some challenges this particular Christmas brought. I entered this particular holiday season feeling sad about not being able to get all of the gifts I wanted to get for all of the people I wanted to give them too.
Then I spent a considerable amount of time comparing gifts my family received to gifts other families received. I said some pretty ungrateful things, of which I am now incredibly embarrassed, to my parents the day after Christmas.
But then, I reflected on how I chose to live simply. Just for a year.
I chose to live in solidarity with people who don't have parents to say rude things to.
I chose to live in solidarity with people who don't have a family to fly 2000 miles to visit them for the holidays.
I chose to spend a year living in solidarity with these people so that when I start vomiting words of ungratefulness, I would be able to recognize that I am an imperfect person, that sometimes feels ungrateful, but really only has a wonderful, wonderful existence to be thankful for.
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