There's Hope For Todayಮಾದರಿ

The checkout lines go on forever. Shredded by the rush and crush, I clutch the doll that walks, talks, wets, and cooks stir-fry. The line closes just as I reach the register, causing me to wring the neck of the dumb doll. The lady next to me looks like she might file charges. The Scripture that claims the last shall be first does not apply to the checkout line at Toys-R-Us.

The parking lot is packed, and several cars prowl like wolves, waiting for any sudden opening. There is no charity in the parking lot – this is serious business – this is Christmas. A BMW with a sorry-looking tree strapped to the top is parked sideways, taking up two spots. Sap drips onto the hood, ruining the paint the driver protected by taking two spots – poetic justice.

At 3:00 this afternoon, I found the wimpiest Santa in Greensboro. Thin and anemic, he sat in his sleigh with his boots up, his beard pulled down under his chin, staring off into space. Santa’s little helper finished her cigarette, hacked out a dry cough, and swore under her breath. The shoppers around me look exhausted.

Cheap decorations and throwaway toys make me long for the real spirit of Christmas – one that features peace, goodwill, and a silent, holy night.