Boxing Day madness

In an ironic twist of events, a family member ended up in hospital today. I don't have any large metaphysical questions as to whether God is capable of punishing us in return for wrongs we have done, or other such related questions. However, seeing as it came rather quickly on the heels of everything else that has recently transpired, one would understandably wonder.
Now, I have only once experienced the patient side of the emergency room previously, but this was crazy! Sure, there were people who clearly did not look well, but there were also clearly people who were lining up who, from eyeballing them clinically, sure didn't look in need of emergency services. Some sure looked like they would have been better suited being in a mall somewhere and shopping.
Myself, having had to work today, mainly saw a whole whack of colds, though almost everyone made it seem like their sniffles were the worst thing to ever inflict a human being ever. I am quite sure I did my bit to make sure the emergency departments weren't overrun by useless consults, but I still question people's judgement. The one, sincerely sick teen that I did see was so ill, I was surprised he was even able to make it across the parking lot, but the mother didn't want to bring him in any earlier, as it was Christmas Day, and then today, he was forced to go to church first before he could go see a doctor. Bah.

Peace on earth, goodwill towards men

This actually is not a pithy treatise about the beauty and glory of Christmas (I am so sorry, Jesus, that we have a) created this made-up holiday to celebrate Your birthday, even though You never told us to, and b) that we have made it to be this holiday of getting together and presents and 'family time', rather than about You anyways).
This year, I can understand why some people think Christmas is actually one of the most loneliest and painful times of year. For, you see, there was a big family row today ('cause hell, if you're going to have a family row, the best time to do it would stereotypically be Christmas Day, the day when tradition and media dictate that you must get along with everyone in order to have the most Norman Rockwellian day ever). I thought to myself, I've had enough of these nuts and fruitcakes, I'm going home. Had myself a long hard run, made a cup of tea, and am now contemplating a truly silent night.
Remembering other friends who have told me that the same, haunting skeletons in everyone's closets come out at Christmas (why not Hallowe'en? Wouldn't that make more sense?), or of other friends who tell me they dread getting together with their extended families reminds me that many, if not most, people are not satisfactorily happy on Christmas, even if they do have other people to spend it with (remember, it was Sartre who did note that hell was other people). Sure, it is nice to have a good reason in the deep of winter to see your family members all together, in one place, but I wonder if all the expectation and hype that is associated with the secular aspects of Christmas is worth the trouble. Maybe if there was less pressure on producing the perfect turkey, and more on the saving graciousness of God, maybe we'd get somewhere...

People really hate me.

Sometimes I find when I read the papers online, I pay less attention to the actual news item, but instead mainly read the commentaries posted with the story. I have often been saddened by reading about what the usual timbre of people's opinions are on most topics; opinions that are self-righteous, or mean-spirited, or pragmatic without mercy, or bleeding-heart without brains.
I was recently reading about a family conflict between Christians and non-believing family members, and the commentaries went on for miles! The vast majority of the commentaries spoke about how judgmental and bigoted we are, how dumb-headed, how cultish, how we should be eliminated, how the world would be better off without such hateful, amoral, hypocritical people.
Sure, there were a few, lonely voices that had pointed out that this conflict really had nothing to do with religion (true), and that the posters shouldn't be too hasty to judge and jump on the issue. One also pointed out whether the tables were turned in this conflict, whether people would be just as quick to jump all over the bandwagon and write such awful things about the non-believing family members.
However, this does make me reflect on how we think we are so loving and good, and it's just that society doesn't 'get' us because we are not 'of' the world. We play up our victimhood by saying we should expect persecution because that is what happens when you 'stand up' for Jesus. I think that's bullshit. When society hates us that much, and cannot even recognize any of the good at all, there is a problem. If the previous paragraph is what we are known for, I don't care what kind of rhetoric we talk about not being of the world, and we are to accept that we ONLY get treated that way because that is what is supposed to happen. Being 'hated' by the world because we are hypocritical and judgmental is NOT a good reason, and not a reason why we would be persecuted in the first place. We need to seriously reconsider what we actually mean by being in this world...

Don't even ask me about zebra toast...

OK, so some of you are well aware of the myriads of stories that my sister and I tell about our parents for they are, frankly, a bit strange. However, this one has been so oft repeated, and yet so incredulously true, I figured I should note it down for posterity's sake.
My parents, when they travel, tend to carry around a few instant noodle bowls in their luggage. Why? In case, wherever their destination happens to be, they don't care for the particular cuisine that is presented to them, they can eat something that they know they'll like. Furthermore, my father is stereotypically Asian in that he does not know how to navigate a kitchen, and has his wife prepare and serve all of the food that he consumes.
So, on one particular vacation, they were in their hotel room. My mother decides she is going to take a shower. My father decides that he would like to have some food. He decides he is going to microwave some food to eat. So he takes out his little microwaveable container, and is delighted to find a microwave in the hotel room that they are staying in.
He pops in the food, closes the door, and presses 1:30. Nothing happens.
He tries again. Still, nothing happens: No lights, no whirring noises, nothing at all. Well, he is entirely perplexed: he's basically used all the knowledge he has of microwave ovens, and this has got him stumped.
So, he toddles over to the bed, sits down, and waits for my mother to finish her shower.
She comes out, and he asks her why, even though he's put the food into the microwave, and pushed the buttons, he hasn't been able to cook himself some food.
She wanders over to the microwave and says, "That's no microwave!"
(Here comes the punchline): "That's the security deposit box!"
Sadly, this does foretell the fact that if my mother dies first, my father will die within a week or two of starvation.

Whoo boy, I'm looking forward to the UK

I respect children profoundly. I think that they are the wisest amongst us, but we adults (ie. parents) unfortunately twist and mar and distort them such that they absorb our fears, our anxieties, our biases and our blinders. I cannot help but look at a child that could have been so much more, so much better, so much more noble, had their home circumstances just been... different.
This leads me to the point that I think I really am heading to a point of burn-out in aspects of my job. How so? For the first time ever, I made two different parents cry, and not for joy (that happens way more often). Why? For my chastisement of their ideas and fears that they were transferring onto their children. And you know what? I didn't care. At all.
Sure, you can say, easy for you to say; you don't have to raise any. Sure, I will say back: but I know and recognize my shortcomings, and am not so self-centred and self-aggrandized that I believe that I am capable and worthy enough to be transforming and forming and molding one of these little ones. Better for me to have a millstone hung around my neck and be thrown into the sea...

God with us; us with others?

I think one of the difficulties in the month of December, which happens to also be one of the joys, is the amount of socializing involved in the month. Besides the obvious reason of it being Christmas for this phenomenon to occur, there is the additional imperative in getting people out of their homes in the dark and dreary winter, and spending time in the company of others.
However, there are clearly downsides to all of this: I am already noting the lack of time I have to spend in contemplating the Advent season; every year I say to myself, "Self, it is time to contemplate this season; not necessarily whether we should be celebrating it at all or no, or our practices as to how we do so, but at least the sentiment and the motivations behind our celebrations", but then I don't, as I rush rush rush from one occasion to another. I am already tired from the first weekend of December, having been to five different evening events in three evenings (yes, you may rightly ask; how can you validly do that and actually develop authentic relationship with people as you run around, imbibing drinks and making small talk? That is a GREAT question that I cannot adequately answer).
I am not sure how to balance the Saturnalia/winter solstice-type aspects of our celebration along with the real celebration that is supposed to make this all worthwhile. All the food and drink laid out in its splendour, when the refugee king had nothing more than His mother's breast to feed upon. All the cheer, good will and rosy cheeks - due in no small part from the great Gift that was given to us - but I still long for something deeper, something profoundly good, something that pierces my heart with the absolute, utter greatness of the sentiment of the season. Is this just me?

Mr. Mean and the Three Stooges

is pretty much how to sum up this past week's events.