What does Christmas Spirit have to do with Paris?

Tears. I’m crying. I’m watching the movie Elf and bawling my eyes out. The scene where they try to build enough Christmas Spirit to fly Santa’s sleigh and I’m a mess. It’s not the spirit of Christmas that has me in its grip.


I’ve been reading headlines and news and comments about Paris and my heart just hurts. Not just for France. My heart aches and bleeds for the solidarity of humanity believing in something worth believing in. For everyone giving a hug and crying into one another’s hair for more than a minute before pointing fingers and igniting malice.

I feel tiny kicks in my belly and realize there is a world that kills and hates and justifies it for their religion. Islamic extremists now, Christian Crusaders then and a mix of all of us in between.

None of us are immune to the fear but our choices reflect our hearts. We can’t choose community and compassion only when it suits us. We must hold the hug longer. We must cry a little harder. We must live love stronger than ever before.

There are Muslim Americans that sit in their homes terrified of the hatred outside. There are Christians discussing bombing children in another country in the same breath as talking about their kids soccer game.

Where is the line?

Where is it drawn?

How many must die for mans need to be right? How many must suffer and blame and grow in hate until the next generation of extremism is complete?

Santa flies off as the crowd sings joyously and my heart longs for that to be us. All of us, singing for something worth while.