There must be more...

I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Really, I am immensely honoured to be "adopted" by married-in family for the festive season, and fed a belt-busting meal. I'm thankful that yet again I've been invited to join the group (and provide prezzies of course!). I know there will be gifts for all and I'm aware that this is a blessing many don't have.

But there must be more than this. Our same menu, our same guest (again, not really wanted - but what can one do when he invites himself year after year), our same sense that something is not quite right, a gnawing emptiness behind full bellies.

There must be more than simply stuffing ourselves with well-prepared food, making an obligatory stop at whatever church we will, trundling home again with the car laden like Santa's sleigh.

What of the homeless and the lonely? What of those who put on a brave face, who we don't know will spend this year yet again in tears? What of the forgotten in the old age homes, the street kids sniffing glue to forget their lives, the shack-dwellers battling yet another fire that sweeps away life and property? What of the person you pass every day, but never really see?

What of the money we will lavish on everything from season-specific wrapping paper to exotic treats, yet-another-toy to an overcatered table? And what of those to whom a quarter of what we've spent would make the difference between dispair and hope?

What of the Meaning behind the season? Is our passing reference to God as heads bow to bless the meal all we'll do again this year? Will we shrug off familiar carols piped over the mall's speakers as we plod on to ever-deeping materialism? Will our church services be lip-service only, an annual trek to a Big Production?

There must be more than this...