Showing posts with label christians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christians. Show all posts

Friday, December 18, 2009

The War on Christmas Comes Home

*Sigh*

I generally stay above the fray on the topic of the "true meaning" of Christmas; fingers in my ears, dancing on the couch and humming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  We celebrate the holidays in the most secular way possible. Sure, a few hymns bust their way into our playlist, but nostalgia and a good orchestral arrangement cannot be denied. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen can really rock the house when done right.  I'm digressing. 

We, The Heathen Family, couldn't care less how you choose to greet us this holiday season.  We like 'em all. Everything is eat, drink and be merry as far as we're concerned.  Too much commercialism? Bah!  If you don't want to buy s*#t, don't buy s*#t.  Hell, I make half the gifts I give. If you are offended by holiday music, stock up on groceries in October and hope for the best. Does the GAP make you mad by blatantly disregarding the superiority of Christianity during this season of wonder? Well, they'd love you to boycott them. It's great for sweater sales. 

Or, or... maybe you just stop whining and eat some damn cookies.

Why so scrunchy Kelly? Why? The holidays never seem to get you down.  Who peed in your egg nog?

I spend a lot of time thinking about, planning and executing our holiday card every year.  Usually, I have my pictures printed by October, when I cash in my free prints on Shutterfly. Since I'm not going to be proclaiming my love for Christ with these cards, they tend to be funny. We're a funny family. The holiday card is our way of sending everyone we love a wee bit of our happy, goofy selves.

For Violet's First Christmas we sent this photo out:


We were forced to assure everyone that we did not actually hang Violet from the mantle. True story.

Last year, I couldn't find a decent photo of the three of us together so I photoshopped this instead:


I can see now that omitting the Christ in Christmas was my downfall, but I really couldn't fit the whole word in that spot.

This year, we made a genuine effort to take a real family photo for our Christmas card. A friend met us at a park and started snapping. Almost none of the photos were flattering of the old married people. Violet could look radiant covered in her own vomit, but I am VAIN. Yes, I said it. I am vain and if I am going to look less than my best, I am going to do it with a sense of humor (the husband feels this way as well).  Luckily, I brought Groucho glasses to our photo shoot.  We all had a good laugh. We Heathens crack ourselves up. Apparently, others were not so amused.

Behold, the most offensive Christmas card we have ever sent:

It's ironic, faux vintage and utterly ridiculous. It is also a clear sign of our rapid decent into hell. We are being prayed for. True story.

So, I guess I need you all to tell me what you think.  What is it about this card that is so offensive? Do we look like Hitler impersonators? Is it the yellow-y vintage effect on the image that is unsettling? Someone offered me the criticism that the photo is just "not Christmas-y".  Perhaps if we had stood in front of a noble fir, festooned with twinkly lights this discussion would never have happened?

Ah, screw it! I think it's funny.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

He is Risen

My darling husband works second shift. This suits our situation perfectly, given the age of our child. Aaron has Fridays and Saturdays off. We did this by design. Most of the year, the "Lord's day" is just another day and given my husband's irrational rage over Sunday retail hours, it is best that he is safely at work on this day of rest. So, when Easter Sunday comes around, I must take myself and our precious heathen bundle to his family's Jesus festivities without him. My mother-in-law drives us and we park on the street to facilitate a speedy getaway. I love all the Christian holidays and take special joy in reminding people that Christmas trees and the Easter Bunny are actually expressions of Pagan tradition. It also allows to me buy a lot of chocolate in the name of the goddess or the rebirth of Spring or whatever. Aaron's family is decidedly, blandly Christian. They are mostly the kind of people who go because "you're supposed to", like registering for Selective Service or filing city taxes. Uncle David is the joyful exception to this rule. He is giddy for Jesus and why shouldn't he be. He's wealthy, he's a surgeon, he lives in his Mini Mansion in a development that used to be a huge family farm. At Christmas, he's happy, but at Easter he busts out the button. I call Aaron at work and challenge him about David's button. Where did he wear it? Was it on straight? Did he bring it up in conversation? It has never failed to appear at Easter Dinner. It is a small slogan pin, with a rainbow and the phrase He Is Risen. The first time I saw it, I didn't think much of it. Maybe they handed them out at services? I don't pretend to know what kind of ritual takes place in church on Easter. When the pin reappeared the following year, I knew that I finally had a reason to get out of bed on resurrection day. This year, the button was squarely on the pocket of his shirt, no funny business. In the past, it has been comically askew or randomly placed, leading me to believe that he puts it on in the dark. It is always the same button. Aaron has speculated that every Easter it is lovely removed from a glass case and then returned again at sundown for safe keeping. I would be really disappointed if I were to discover that his church does hand out the same buttons every year and that he simply tosses the pin in the trash at the end of the day. This Easter, David managed to incorporate his button into an innocent conversation with his one year old granddaughter. She's probably the only person who listens to him.

*This blog partially inspired by the Minnesota Matron.

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