The Highway.com

Ok.  I admit it.  I am guilty as charged.  I like the Easter Bunny. I like Santa Clause. I like "trick or treat."  I like coloring eggs, setting out baskets for my kids. I like saying hello to the kid sweating in the fuzzy outfit completed by a blue satin vest and oversized feet, when we go to brunch. Even though he (or it could be a she . . . I never bothered asking) probably makes minimum wage, feels a bit awkward, and occasionally gets mauled by an overexcited child, I always manage to get a wave back.

Graven Images

I never bothered to ask what the remembering of the resurrection of the Christ had to do with eggs or bunnies. It was never important to me . . . still isn't. I have a little bit of fun, spend some time with my family, laugh, have a good meal, and enjoy the day.  I am not practicing some pagan ritual. I don't have a clue what god I am supposedly worshiping, nor do I care to find out.

I also like carving a pumpkin and setting it in my window lit up for all to see. I like transforming my front yard into a cemetery. Handmade tombstones dot my lawn, completed by an open coffin and a plastic caldron suspended over yellow lights awaiting the witch (who has just smashed into my tree). On Halloween night I bring out the fire pit and a couple of lawn chairs, and we watch the neighborhood fill with ghosts and goblins, masking the gleeful shouts of children as they race from door to door. When they come to our home, we act scared and pass out some candy, but their joy and hastened thanks are my real treats.

They are not minions of The Dark Lord. They are just kids. We are not paying homage to anything. We are just having fun.

I also love Christmas. It is my favorite time of the year. It is my time to go all out to make this year the best ever. I fill our yard with cheesy decorations, put up enough lights to make Clarke Griswold jealous. This year, the sleigh I made will finally have the nine reindeer I finally found the time to make, and my wife wonders if there will be enough room left for the snow to cover the ground. The outside of our home becomes a gigantic present, and I keep teasing my kids that I won’t be happy until our house can be seen from the moon, while inside, our tree casts a warm glow over two composite Santas and a miniature New England village, my wife's prized possessions. I love feeding into my children’s anticipation for the things they want, then playing Scrooge to build the suspense, while my wife and I look for that perfect gift. It all comes together on Christmas morning when we know we hit the mark, and we bask in the fruition of our labors and its subsequent uneventful bliss. Christmas morning makes the rest of the year worthwhile, a time we can share in abundance what our efforts have produced. It is also the day I say a silent happy birthday to the one I call Christ.

All of these were a part of my childhood, and I have carried them into my adulthood, passed them on in the hopes certain traditions never die. These are some of the ways I celebrate life. They are not how I celebrate my faith.

I don't thank the Easter Bunny for my "daily bread." I don’t let Rudolph help me decide what is right or wrong. I didn’t call on Santa Clause when my wife was bleeding to death in a hospital bed, asking him to take me instead. A sleigh did not bring her back to me. I don't bow before a pumpkin offering worship and praise, and I am giving candy to children, not demons and ghouls. I set aside some time to have fun. It makes me smile, and I feel warm inside.

What I believe, what I carry with me, how I live my life are things that stay with me all year long. My faith, my trust, my hope, and my ability to love represent who I am. That I can kick back, laugh, and be stupid every once in a while is only one of many ways I can say thanks to "someone who already has everything including me." I am not abandoning God for graven images, nor do I seek a replacement. I enjoy for the sake of enjoyment, and my heart, mind and soul are where they belong. I really don’t think God has a problem with this regardless what elements of a religion or a man on a pulpit might say. A book they lord over me stands with me when says everything has a time and a place:

In my humble opinion, those who would say I am bowing before graven images when my attention should be focused on "THE LORD" can't see what exactly I am doing . . . thanking God by setting aside some time to enjoy a gift called life. They need to take a few lessons from a book they demand is the definitive blueprint for life. They need to learn that everything has its place, and realize this is the time to live. They also need to realize that graven images typically recognize and worship other gods, and I do neither. Close yourself off. Mourn and complain. Try to kill some wholesome family traditions. I don't care. I prefer to celebrate. I will smile and laugh . . . and I will pass it on.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some more reindeer to make.

Release the Dragon Within!