My Yearly Christmas Rant

Every year around this time, I seize the opportunity to express my disgust with what we have done with the Christmas season. You know...the mindless consumerism...the quest to find gifts for people who have way too much stuff already. Although it sickens me, I'm not going to go on my traditional rant (you may argue I just did).

Instead, I want to share an observation. Last night as I was writing a Christmas card to our sponsored child in Swaziland it hit me--"Merry Christmas" means something radically different to her than to us. Kulilie lives in a hut. Her dad is dead and her mom is gone. For breakfast, lunch, and supper she eats mushed up corn. She plays with sticks and rocks. She has no idea what an IPod or Wii console are. She doesn't care about the writer's strike in Hollywood, because she's never watched TV. A Merry Christmas for her isn't about what's under a tree. For her, it's that Jesus loves her and came to earth for her and is watching over her.

My prayer is that Christmas will come to mean the same to us. Merry Christmas, Kulilie. And Merry Christmas to you all.