Echo . . .
Reflection on my Christmas experience this
year.
Back
to
blogging.
This
holiday
season
seemed
to
me
like
a
series
of
echos.
We
have
been
rushed
this
year,
and
as
I
think
about
it
maybe
more
so
than
any
other
year.
So
rushed
we
didn’t
put
up
a
tree.
The
Christmas
reminders
were
a
few
cards
from
friends
and
family.
You
might
be
thinking
depression
or
apathy?
No,
not
depression
nor
apathy.
Just
rushed,
out
of
time,
maybe
out
of
desire.
I
wonder
if
this
is
what
it
is
supposed
to
be
like
when
you
reach
your
almost
mid-forties?
The
acceptance
of
the
awareness
of
so
little
time?
And
there
are
many
that
have
good
reasons
to
be
depressed
or
apathetic.
Echo:
economic,
health,
military
deployment,
divorce,
possible
lost
job,
struggling
relationship,
death,
out
of
work,
grief,
unbelief.
Maybe
it
is
my
inner
rebellion
acting
out
against
the
rush
of
bell
ringers,
food,
Christmas
carols
during
advent,
and
Christmas.
There
are
so
few
places
I
can
go
here
where
Christmas
isn’t
in
the
stores
before
trick
or
treating
is
over.
I
have
often
wondered
if
we
can
be
thankful
when
we
race
toward
our
Christmas
fix
like
there
is
only
enough
for
the
first
seven
in
line.
These
are
echo
thoughts
from
the
past.
On
Christmas
eve
I’m
standing
in
the
pulpit
in
the
congregation
where
I
was
ordained
echoing
words
from
the
story,
“Do
not
be
afraid.
Behold,
I
bring
you
good
news
of
a
great
joy
that
has
come
to
all
people.
Unto
you
is
born
today,
in
the
city
of
David,
a
messiah,
the
Lord . . .
and
there
appeared
with
the
angel
a
multitude
of
the
heavenly
host
praising
God
saying,
‘glory
to
God
in
the
highest
heaven,
and
on
earth
peace
among
those
with
whom
God
is
pleased.”
Silent
Night
didn’t
boom
in
the
voices
as
much
as
the
glow
of
the
candles
filled
the
sanctuary.
Either
the
propaganda
sunk
in
or
it
really
was
a
more
subdued
holiday.
For
a
brief
moment
the
echo
of
my
infancy
blurred
across
a
screen
as
we
laughed
at
my
struggling
to
take
first
steps.
There
were
faces
I
haven’t
thought
about
in
a
long
time
flashing
by
with
silent
smiles
and
waving
hands.
Super
8
movies
are
a
distant
technology
that
hold
images,
memories.
Then,
the
projector
stopped
working.
There
is
uncertainty
that
echos
to
us
from
distant
times.
Some
ministers
will
go
overboard
with
hope,
painting
everything
with
broad
strokes.
I
wonder
if
ours
is
the
task
of
mirroring,
pausing
rather
than
patronizing
with
the
Christmas/Easter
fix.
The
credit
junkies
showed
us
that
there
can
be
too
much
of
a
good
thing.
So,
as
2009
begins
I’m
committing
to
my
blog
again,
weekly
if
not
daily.
I
don’t
want
to
just
be
an
echo
chamber.
That
would
be
a
good
title
for
a
blog.
Filed Fri - January 2, 2009, 03:54 PM in
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