Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas...

Christmas Eve...there's something that is magical about tonight. Ever since I was little, I looked forward to Christmas Eve more than the actual day. The bringing together of family for Christmas Mass. The anticipation of the events of the day to come. The peacefulness of the mood. The preparations.

This year, though, as I sit in silence, the true meaning of Christmas seems to strike me more. Maybe it's age or maybe it's the first time in all of my years that I have spent the evening alone.

The kids and I attended mass together along with my family. Afterwards, I took them to Chris's grandma's for the family celebration. After fake smiles and well wishes to his family, I walked back to my car followed by Chris. After many unkind words managed to fly out of my mouth I found myself trying to run him down with my car. Literally.

What in the name of all things holy is wrong with me! I don't love him anymore. I never really enjoyed being at his family gatherings. I was looking forward to the candle light service I was headed to. Why then was I overcome with such bitter emotion? Everytime I'm around him, it's like he's got some astronomical power forcing me to act like a crazy person. I don't know... Maybe its the finality of all our years together. The loneliness of spending our holidays seperate instead of together as a family. Maybe it's the fact that he is still seeing the girl that helped him destroy our marriage. Maybe it is because she is at the family functions with my children where I spent so many years. Maybe it's the jealously that he's found someone else...and I'm still searching for myself. UGH! Maybe. Just maybe.

The spirituality of the service hit me like a ton of bricks. As I looked around the church, I saw happy families and couples embracing each other in the "goodness" of the season. At one point, I think unicorns were surrounding them in a field of white daisies. However, I didn't pity myself although I sat there alone. I was proud. Proud that through all of this I still found strength. And it wasn't at the bottom of a Smirnoff bottle.

Tears streamed down my face as I felt the effect of each word. It stung as I realized.. 13 years old, unmarried, knocked up, forced to leave home, went into labor in a barn between anywhere and nowhere, visited by spirits and stange men. My gosh, it sounds like a horror story...or something Jerry Springerish...but it's real. And those are the events that forever changed the world.

Really, whatI do I have to complain about!