Remembering Not to Forget
"Why is it so easy to forget who I am supposed to be? Why is it so hard to remember why I celebrate this time of year? Why do I cut you out of my Christmas?" I think. "And I call myself a Christian…"
All year, hearing people talk about Christians bothers me. They call us hypocrites and liars, and I always hope I don't give them a reason to say things like that.
I realized that I'm like every faker about Christmas. The presents, the lights, the food… It all stuns me and makes me forget that this is the season for the reason of my existing.
I couldn't even recognize that I was forgoing the God-part of life. God had to send someone to give me a news flash. Namely, Callie, my sister.
"I'm coming!" I yelled as someone rang my doorbell repeatedly. I pulled on a bathrobe and wrapped a towel around my hair before yanking my front door open.
"Josie!" my favorite (and only) sister in the universe shrieked, throwing her arms around me. "Josie-girl!"
I laughed as we pulled apart. "I should've known you were at my door. No one else would've been that annoying!"
"You would've done it, too!" she protested.
"When?" I challenged. "The fourth grade?"
"Last summer." Callie smirked.
I shrugged upon recalling the mentioned incident. "Momentary lapse of judgment."
"I thought you weren't getting in until this weekend." I grinned.
"Well, you know me. I love being with family during the holidays. Enough to sacrifice my vacation days for it." She circled my living room slowly before looking at me pointedly.
"Isn't it still customary to take a guest out to dinner? Shoo! Go get ready. I'm hungry." Callie plopped down on my couch and pulled a book out of her purse, which she began to read.
After quickly blow drying my hair and finding something to wear, I reentered my living room to find Callie balancing a pencil on her nose, book forgotten.
"C'mon." I yanked the pencil of her face and used it to put my hair in a sloppy bun. "Italian awaits."
There's something wonderful about seeing a sister after months and months apart. Gosh, I missed her. I'd forgotten how funny she is, how much she talks, and how she always orders the most expensive thing on the menu.
I was so happy as we walked across a street in the city's historical district, giggling with my sister and admiring the Christmas lights.
Like always, Callie decided to be entirely unpredictable. She became serious spontaneous.
"It's so amazing." She smiled.
"Christmas. God sent his son to die for us."
And that hit me like a truck. Not a small one. A big honkin' eighteen-wheeler.
I sit here, hours after Callie has gone to sleep, pondering. Why is it so easy for me to forget who this season is even all about? Why is it easier for me to not have a passion for God than to wake up in the morning?
I pledge that I will not forget my Savior next year. I'll celebrate the day that He was born to die the right way.
A/n--This is my response to our "I Celebrate the Day" challenge. I was kinda bahh humbug about it. (Pun Intended.)