One more time, Gentle Reader, I am seated in front of this laptop not having a clue what I am going to write. But that's okay. Life goes on, with or without me, with or without you, life is still going to keep going on. Not exactly a comforting notion, this. It kind of reminds us of how inessential we are. We're just here, DNA products of the combined DNA of our parents, who are the products of the combined DNA of their own parents, and so the beat goes on. And on.
We are all so dreadfully mortal. But so wonderfully eternal, as well. I had a dream last night that suggested where I will be living and working after I die. In heaven, I would imagine. But I was talking with a friend who has been dead the last ten years or so, and, in this dream, she is in a wooden house that contains a coffee shop, and apparently I will be living and working there with her. I had an interview with the owner of the place, and we did the whole interview in fluent Spanish. One of my Colombian friends was also visiting and when I was inside, I found a cousin of mine (she died around eight years ago), so we were chatting and I introduced her to my Colombian friend.
Now is this really how things are going to look for me after I die? Who only knows, but the concept is intriguing. In the meantime, we all still have this life to get through. It helps knowing that the really unpleasant parts for me, such as Christmas, are temporary, and that I will get through them, if I just concentrate on being happy for each moment, as a gift, or kind of. But I am a Christian and naturally this should be a particularly joyful time of year for me. Should be. Uh-huh. But it isn't. I can focus on Christ and I can know that he will get me through it, but it never is really joyful for me, knowing that I am not really wanted anywhere (this is not self-pity, by the way, darlings, but the reality of what I experience every year. Suck it up if you don't like reading it!). But neither was Jesus at his birth wanted anywhere, except by his parents, and I don't even have parents, but I'm sure that first Christmas was anything but easy for either Mary or Joseph.
I expect that someone will invite me, at least for a coffee at the neighbourhood Starbucks or Blenz, this Christmas Day. I am simply keeping people at church on alert. Nothing fancy. Dinner isn't essential, just human presence. Could it be more simple, less complicated? Years and years of not being welcome anywhere at Christmas has put a lot of strain on my friendships, and I am concerned that if this also becomes the annual pattern at St. Faith's, even if I survive there as a member, my relationships with the people are going to be always limited, compromised, uncomfortable and even somewhat bitter.
Hello? Anyone out there?
If any of the Anglicans in my parish church, after reading yesterday's blog, will deign to reach out to me on Christmas Day, that will be both a surprise and a blessing. I am not holding my breath. Everyone has their excuses, after all, and the presence of someone who is alone and unwanted can be a major spoiler at any festive occasion. I understand. I do, really.
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