The birth of Jesus Christ is supposed to be a joyous celebration filled with giving and love and family and good feelings. However, with the current mess the country is in due to massive spending, a black cloud hung over the most wonderful time of the year.
The fact that we knew we couldn’t spend a lot for Christmas presents because we were laid off and April 15th looms after what is set to be another tough winter, weighted our spirits.
The fact that we fought like hell to try to stop all of these massive spending measures all year and we needed rest and knew that we are no longer in a representative republic, and there will be no rest.
The idea that the Christmas Eve vote was going to twist the knife in our backs once again, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.
Then, finding out that on Christmas Day, some piece of filth tried to kill more Americans over the skies of Detroit, and, swearing off politics for the season, we had to jump back into it.
Then, knowing the tasks that lay ahead for the New Year, many of us had to fast forward our grief so we could face the mountain ahead.
Finding a place to go from our memories of last year and knowing we cannot blot them out, ever, was an assignment that was desperately difficult during that wonderful season.
Many of us suffered from inexplicable chest, neck and back pain and many of us prayed for others who presented with the same.
We prayed during that season for those who did not know what they did, and those that knew exactly what what they did.
We prayed during that season for the one who thinks only of himself and his power and who acts in His name.
But our largest, most significant, most sacred prayer, was to that Child Jesus for His Divine Intervention.
Obama stole our Christmas, we shall try to remember to not allow him to steal our country.
