Sorry, I have been distracted this week.
Have you ever visited a relative in a hospital around the holidays? To see a niece or nephew, lying in a sterile hospital bed, looking pitiful, is a bad feeling. At Christmas time, being in a hospital is double-bad, because there are charities who come into hospitals at Christmastime and sing to the children. The music is beautiful, but it reminds you that this child is laying in a hospital bed, not participating in Christmas-type activities.
This child, anyone's child, doesn't feel well. Not a life-threatening illness, but an illness bad enough for a hospitalization and a few nights sleeping in a foreign bed.
I know, some will say that Christmas should be like other times of the year. You should love your neighbor all through the year. Yeah, I get that. But you know, at different times of the year, you can be more passionate about redemption (Easter), more passionate about re-birth (Christmas), and more about giving thanks (harvest celebrations, Thanksgiving).
So in a week of re-births, in anticipation for Christmas, I don't feel like writing. Actually, I am going to take off from work a bit early and sneak into a hospital room, and read my nephew a story. Or two. Or twelve.
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