It's sure the season. Slinking behind and amongst the Ho, Ho, Happy, the Grinch never fails to make a visit to my house. He pokes and prods, digs around in the mucky memories and like so many other folks, he often leaves me feeling blue---his job well done.
Ah-h, mister green and mean,
In the Christmas cracks he creeps.
Into my old heart he peeks.
Can he find a sore spot---an old ow-wy
that heal did not?
He tries his stinking bestest. Because Santa Claus, he is NOT.
He prances and dances with his ugly glee. Sprinkling his sad all over me.
Then in his glorious grinchiness, sprints away to spread more of his holiday drear.
Christmas seems to be an exaggerated reflection of our lives. It seems to come at the end of the year and for many, it is a reminder of all the things that DID NOT bring us happiness in years past. It's true, we miss loved ones that are no longer here to share with. While the world sparkles and laughs, the missing, the mistakes and misfortunes haunt us like Dicken's ghost of Christmas past.
It has always been my belief that laughter is the very best medicine. At Christmas, like in my life, I've really worked on kicking the Grinch on down the road. There is absolutely joy and beauty and tremendous giving spirit in the world. The secret of having joy in your life is to allow yourself to be happy for those that have peace and happy hearts all around you. When you can get past yourself and feel true gladness for the good fortune of others, then you perhaps will have earned your place among them.
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