Entitled me?

Christmas and I go way back to (gulp) the 70s'. Ok so I was only 9 months old and don't remember that first one too well, but the idea quickly grew on me. It was as close as I came to torture to have to wait to open presents on Christmas morning till after I ate breakfast and my mom took a picture of the stash Santa had left before I came in and tore into the display.

Move onto the teenage years. No more bothering with actual gifts, I got money from my grandparents. I did what any teenage girl in the 1990's who lived a mile from the mall would do. I spent it. On clothes. Lots of them. Just because I liked them. (And partly cause I wanted to fit in, though ironically I didn't, in part because I was so quiet that people thought I was a stuck up snob. I'm sure the new clothes just helped that perception...)

It's not that I was trying to be spoiled or feeling entitled. I didn't buy 2,000 dollars worth of clothes without asking . But I didn't turn much to
thoughts of gratitude either.

For several years now Christmas has been different for me. I gave up desiring gifts for Christmas, instead I wanted to give. I married my husband and was excited to have someone to buy for other than my parents. (Yes, I was a spoiled only child. Don't hate me.) I was also glad to spend so much time with his family, going from place to place, (And there were many. I think now everyone else has grown tired of the "Christmas marathon" as well and this year will be more low key. Praise the Lord!) since mine was so far away.

Fast forward to now and I am repulsed by the thought of what I heard (on the Christian radio station) about the SIX(!?!) year old child who gave his mother a Christmas list that was quite lengthy and had the prices and stores of all the items.

And I feel like buying nothing for anyone because they already have everything. (Seriously, everything! Do you see why I called us all spoiled 21st century Americans the other day? Have we all forgotten what Christmas is really all about?)

And ideas like this grow in my heart more with every passing day.

(P.S. God is so good. Just after I finished typing that I heard someone say what compassion means. It means to suffer with. I suffer with these children, for these children. I want so badly to help and stop their suffering but I can't. (Not alone.) And the same person I am listening to said as I was typing this ps that Jesus did not come to eradicate suffering but to change and redeem its meaning. Now would be a good time to start that post on redemptive suffering that the Padre Pio book inspired. Thanks for that little God moment reminder, Jesus.)

Another few links along these lines...

Re-thinking Traditional American Christmas

When Christmas gets Radical: Whose Birthday is it Really?