Something's Still Missing ...

Perhaps I misspoke when I attributed my funk to simply not celebrating the season in the right manner. Perhaps I am going through some existential crisis, one more penetrating than in years past. For this one did not simply descend upon me in the post-celebration hours, after the wrapping on the last present had been torn open and the requisite, "Ooh" 's has been spoken. Rather this one has been lingering for well over a month now - a deep, persistent, dark mood, in which thoughts concerning aging parents, children growing both up and away from me, a world that confounds me at times, and other meandering thoughts pervade my stream of consciousness. The therapist in me might attribute it to a depression of sorts, but the realist in me eschews such labels. For my thoughts, while dark, are actually valid concerns, not at all outlandish or unrealistic. This season of celebration and joy has compounded the problem, as I no longer wish to defend the "Christ" in Christmas as belonging to the actual Christ. The commercialism of the holiday, and reading about the actual pagan roots of the celebration, have all but depleted me of any desire to do battle with secular critics who want the world to simply be about their here and now. Let them have their belief system - or their non-belief system. I have discovered how truly unfulfilling a faith centered around a single day of celebration can be. I need more - I know there can be more. A feeling of being uplifted by the spirit of faith can transcend the emptiness that fills the air, as the last carols of the season fade into the distance, and the last ribbon from the final gift is undone and discarded.



I reached for a book from my shelves this afternoon, looking to immerse myself in a piece of literature, a joy I have not indulged in for many weeks now. The book that my fingers came to rest upon was Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis. I have only discovered Lewis in my adulthood, another unfortunate failure of my education. By the first few paragraphs of the preface, I knew I was being led to this book, much as we need to hear from a friend when we are down, or receive a bit of welcome news just at the moment all looks so terribly bleak.

'...be assured that God is well aware of "what a wretched machine

you are trying to drive", and asks only that

you "keep on, doing the best you can" ' ...