A Regretable Good

Lately sadness has been on my mind. Christmas was slightly sad, yet happiness was there as well. There was the death of a church members' daughter Christmas eve. There was the comfort that only God can give in such a time. It was amazing to see in myself the moments of remembering, after years of neglect, where Christmas truly comes from. Not only rememberance, but true appreciation for the birth of the holy child.

I was allowed a reality check by some friends this year concerning the truth about Santa. That's right, he doesn't exsist anymore. I stopped believing in him when I was five, to be honest, but that didn't end the fact that he was still a main contributor to the feeling of Christmas I experienced. This year someone told me he died. Something about what he did when he lived keeps a spirit of joy about, but he didn't raise from the dead. Then there's the Christmas tree. It's fun to pretend and be festive, and I think it's good to have a holly jolly Christmas. It can go too far when we set the truth of Christmas' meaning under the branches in the shadow. I was always raised to know the truth of the Holidays, but my nature is that the gifts and fables are at the forefront of my spirit of cheer, when it should be Christ I celebrate first.

The new year celebration made me realize how new things really are. They're not that new. I realized that sadness is here and happiness as well. Both come and blow away with the wind. The setting of the sun is the dismissal of a days' frets and gives way to fresh perspective on all things good and bad. But there are also sleepless nights. Think about that.

Thoughts on my mind. Hmmm... My thoughts channel the regret of things left unsaid or things I should have never said across my mind and register sadness. However, at times, I don't even realize I've let my tongue over my lips. I can remember when I was a little guy and my brother would aggrivate me beyond all sanity. This caused the release of certain vocabularies, like, idiot! Or, stupid! Or, bad bee! That was perfectly acceptable referencing toward the sibling in my mind. That is until I felt the sharp sting of a hand against the flesh of my own. I didn't like that! When I didn't say what I should have said and followed the brothers where I shouldn't have the outcome was the same. Slap!

I go through this life and turn here and there and get slapped every once in a while. I can't stand it! When do I get to stand on my own? Then again, what gives me the gahl to think that I'm grown past the need for discipline? If I don't realize my faults, then why would I prefer to be left to my own failing self? Let me past my pride and allow a firm hand to sting mine. What compells me to think that I'm a greater person than the one who corrects me? We're both of the same sin.

So sadness is a regretable good.

Andrew R. M. Hanson