There is a whole genre of clubs that require no dues, have millions of members, but nobody is trying to join. They are clubs that once you're in, you're in. These clubs require that you have one significant thing in common. I'm in a couple of these clubs. I am a member of the infertility club and the death of a loved child club. I have managed to go 26 Christmases without being very sensitive to the Christmas Club. This is a group of people who want to slap the crap out of the stupid smiley faces of people like me, around the holidays. These are the people we nickname 'the grinch' or 'scrooge' or 'grumpy'. You'd think that because we are all a part of one of these free, lifelong, heartbreaking clubs that we'd be more sensitive to them. This is what I've learned this Christmas.
I. Love. Christmas. I even love the insanely ridiculous Christmas songs that play on a loop in the mall. When I worked at David's Bridal, Christmas was my favorite time of the year. I belonged in one of those romantic comedies set in December, in Manhattan. I sorted the dresses with a skip in my step and a song on my lips. My coworkers thought about investing in a tranquilizer gun, and they would have been justified in using it. My parents are still married, and are madly in love. My husband is crazy, but faithful and present. My children are healthy, happy, and here. I have a roof over my head, and food on my table. I am redeemed, and in love with a man whose birthday we celebrate this season. I. Love. Christmas.
The Christmas Club, however, is filled with a group of people who probably want to feel the euphoria that I do around this season, but instead feel mocked by the commercial joy that's being sold on, quite literally, every corner. These people can't look anywhere without seeing people who are exuding, sincerely or not, a happiness that they can't feel. I remember this feeling when I wanted nothing more than to be pregnant, had been told I never would be, and every single stinking woman was round with the blessing that I had been denied. I wanted to hit pregnant women... in the face... every day. Who does that?!?!?! People in the club!
So here's to the Christmas Club. I apologize for the shock that I've displayed every year at your 'scrooginess'. It was ignorant and insensitive for me to deny you the club rights that I myself claim. You are loved, and prayed for.
