Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Allegory of Materialism

December 24.

Her daughter wanted a digital camera and “Viva La Juicy” perfume; her son wanted a skateboard and new ear buds.  She had been up late comparing prices, now it was time to hit the stores.

She was frazzled, exhausted, anxious. So much to buy, so little time. She honked her frustrations out at slow drivers on her way to the mall.

She got everything she wanted.  She yelled at the groggy-looking salesman in the tech store until the ear buds went down to the online price. She snatched the last box of Viva la Juicy from right under the nose of another woman who was eying it greedily.  She came home and shooed her children out of the kitchen so she could throw together some confections for the neighbors and create a picture-perfect Christmas Eve dinner for her family.  “Peace on Earth,” read a greeting card on her refrigerator.  She didn’t have time to read it.  She was too busy fighting a war in her heart.  A war for perfection.

The neighbors came caroling a few hours later.  Her children ate her Christmas feast.  They read the Christmas story. She stayed up late and wrapped each present with color-matching bows.  She had a headache that night when she went to bed, but she felt relieved. Everything, indeed, was perfect.

December 24.

Her son was away in the city at university.  During the few hours of Internet she got each day, she checked her emails to see if he’d be able to make it home.  The tribal warfare in her village had gone on for three days now, and all she wanted was to have her family all together safely.

She had been up late discussing peace talks with the tribal leaders, and she was frazzled, exhausted, anxious.  Eight people had died already, and if the leaders didn’t hurry and act, it would surely be more.

She had no money, but she had a phone that worked during the hours of electricity, and she called her friends and asked about their families. She visited the elderly in her village to make sure they were OK.  She found out at last that her son was on his way, and she rejoiced.

When her son arrived, she prepared a small feast to the abrasive carol of gunshots outside.  She clicked her tongue. Sometimes she felt that the whole world was at war, but in her heart this night, she felt peace.

She had almost nothing, and nothing was perfect. But she had her family and friends.  She had the good Lord watching over her. And she was happy.

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