Merry _ _ _ _ _ _ mas

And so, it came to pass.

Every year, the citizens of Mankindsville would prepare earlier and earlier to celebrate that wonderful day in December. Storekeepers were exhausted after months of preparing for the most consumer-frenzied occasion. Restaurants had placed their orders for ingredients weeks in advance, for fear their otherwise reliable suppliers would run out during the busiest time of the year. City council once again voted unanimously to increase the budget for multicolored LED lights to adorn the city for this most festive occasion. Children could hardly sit still in anticipation of all the great presents they'd receive, after hinting for the entire year to their parents. And the parents could hardly wait for all of it to be over, with all the early morning queues and traffic jams.

December 25th. The older people knew what that day was all about. Or, at least they faintly recalled. Something concerning little towns and sheep. Anyway, it was an old Semitic tradition about shepherds that was no longer very relevant, save for a few conservative people that would chime in once in awhile to ruin everyone's mood. In time, their "self-righteous" indignation and brisk social commentary about the "true meaning" of _ _ _ _ _ _ mas was ignored. People didn't need to be told why they were celebrating. All they knew was that their fathers, and father's fathers had long taken advantage of this joyous season to eat, drink and be merry. And the occasion was more inclusive now than it had ever been before.

The children stared up in amazement at the giant, green, plastic cones adorned by neon lights and crowned with gold stars. They were all over the city during this time of the year. Known affectionately as the gift centers, these giant cones were the distribution hubs which allowed the jolly old man to drop presents with precision. Teenagers though, knew better. Santa was just a myth. But they still appreciated the days off from school, and had many colloquialisms for _ _ _ _ _ _ mas. Xmas. Red Hatter Day. Gift Fight. And the girls giggled as they hushed, "Love Day." The most wonderful time of the year.

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In China, December 25th isn't really a big deal. Most people still work on this day. The lights and artificial trees are everywhere, and there are sales on already cheap goods. Certainly, the day is not as much of a fixture as it is in the West. People still give gifts and families still eat together, but the atmosphere is markedly subdued and the reason for celebrating, obscure. It seems like an eerie preview of what the secularization process stands to achieve, of what putting the "X" in "Xmas" leads to.

In fact, in some instances the past few days I forgot that it's almost here. Back home, I would have already taken a week of vacation to celebrate this time with friends and family. I would procrastinate and gently agonize about what to write on my cards before delivering them to friends in the nick of time. Of course, there was also the shopping: that mad scramble to locate gifts, the symbols of thoughtfulness, generosity, love and friendship. Although the malls were unbearable, the satisfaction of finding the right gift was still great (of course if I had planned earlier I would have bought them online). There were also the potlucks, the failed Secret Santas and random house parties.

More importantly, it was a time to remember the less fortunate, to contribute to food banks and "adopt a family" for the occasion. Some of my most special memories came from getting these families exactly what they wanted, and hopefully more for the 25th. I remember one year, meeting a family in the outskirts of Richmond and seeing an immigrant family's toddler play with the new fire truck we bought him. It was a season where hopes and dreams were fulfilled and unhappiness was staved off, if only for a short while.

Most importantly, it was and is, the season of Advent, and counting down the days to His birth. The humble beginnings of the life that would become the model for my own, which I will continue in my attempts to emulate, rather imperfectly.

The setting has changed for me this year. I don't feel the warm fuzziness I've associated with it in the past. No botched Secret Santas here. But it doesn't mean that the meaning's lost and I've stopped celebrating. Maybe I see it more clearly this year than ever before. I hope all of you will truly savor what this special day means to you as well. And hopefully, we'll never forget why we celebrate it.

Merry Christmas everybody!