The Gift

Sitting under another cloudy sky, filling out more government paperwork and doing phone call reviews. Living the life of a “moocher” is hard sometimes. Between the prying questions, the constant suspicion, and the jabs from the right wingers (welfare queen) (eating steak and lobster) (having babies just to make money), it’s a wonder why I even bother. But I do what I must do to keep a roof over the heads of those I love. One’s that can’t do for themselves.

I don’t mean to the such a jerk, but these end of the year reviews bring it out of me. I see a lot of people enjoying the holiday season. Christmas trees, decorations, and the gifts all celebrating the season of love and sacrifice. I guess I’m just jaded or joyless when it comes to holidays. Because all I can see are people that barely speak to each other most of the year, acting as though they were best friends. Lord knows I really don’t want to be this way. But after decades of conditioning, old habits are hard to break. 

Then I think about those even worse off than me, those that live in tent cities, if they’re lucky. The immigrants locked up in detention centers waiting to be sent back to hell. Wives and children living under the thumbs of abusive husbands, wearing make-up and covering their scars. The working poor, that don’t eat so their children can. Yeah, it’s just another cloudy day.
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If we’d all look at each other with eyes of compassion, we could see. That there is suffering and pain beyond just ourselves. That you never know another’s pain unless you lived it for yourself. But awareness and empathy give you the opportunity to see, to feel another’s pain. In this season of love and sacrifice let us all open our hearts to the intention of the season. To the gift that was given and the lesson we should learn.