BitterSweet

{Christmas 2009 in Rwanda}

Without fail, the Christmas season brings about a deluge of emotions into my everyday. I become a dichotomy of Kringle and Scrooge, with a dash of Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life." Each year as December waves a hurried hello, I find myself conflicted in this conundrum between reveling in my steamy cup of peppermint Starbucks and rehashing the justification of a $5 cup of roasted beans. 

And sometimes burnt beans at that. 

I've been told that what I'm paying for is the "experience." 

The atmosphere. 

Feeling warm and cozy. Safe. 

I don't think I want a "safe" life though. 

In the sense of car seats and air bags and back-up parachutes, or the time I went cliff jumping in Hawaii and at the moment of ocean plunge thought to myself, "a life jacket sure would've come in handy right about now," then yes, I'm all on board with that version of "safe." 

{Lesson learned: This is the real world, and Free Willy doesn't always have your back and scrambling back up a cliff full of barnacles is.the.worst} 

But, in life. Safe. The same thing, day after day, year after year. Filling the voids with "stuff" and digging yourself deeper into emptiness. 

I sure hope not. 

This revolving door of transcendent hope, whirls around season after season.

It opens into my morning, afternoon, and evening.

I can't help it. 

My life is ruined for the ordinary, 

and so has my Christmas. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}