December 26th, 2014


(no subject)

I sat alone in the back of the church, just as I did for every service. The festive red outfit I'd chosen for the holiday was quite loud. Still, if there needed to be any reinforcement that I was never alone, it came as the service started, as the pastor who'd married us greeted me with his hand on my shoulder as he walked down the aisle, "Merry Christmas, Daria."

I knew he'd been finishing the sermon just before the service from something I'd overheard as I arrived (early, because of Gwen's call time). He's not one to shy from popular culture just as he is not scared to tackle current events. In this case, he came to one which hit home. He mentioned the Island of Misfit Toys, complete with Rudolph and Hermes the dentist elf. And I remembered what I said a year ago: that I am a Charlie in a Box ( It was nearing midnight, the day about to turn over. With most of the holiday ahead of me, I knew that even if everything else were to go wrong (it didn't), that I'd come so far since the last year. I'd always previously taken Greg Lake's lyric, "The Christmas we get, we deserve" as a rebuke. This year, replete with the gifts of friendship, love and support, I could only hope I would always deserve so well.