I love Friday nights. Friday night in the Murch home is date night. Last night Carissa and I hit NW 23rd Street in Portland, one of our favorite places. The trees were lit up with white Christmas lights, and the familiar late-fall chill was in the air, as we enjoyed some super-chocolaty hot cocoa at Moonstruck.
My wife has been very proud of me this year as I’ve taken considerable steps forward in my de-scroogification ventures. She commented on her continual amazement that I’ve been caught humming Christmas music pre-Thanksgiving a number of times this year. I must admit I’m a little surprised by it myself. I have always been an activist for sanity, or as I call it, “keeping Christmas where it belongs.” I have always defined “where it belongs” as the 6-week window between Thanksgiving and New Years. Though I remain steadfast in this conviction, we established a concession in our home a few years ago. The inauguration of Christmas music in the Murch home has been moved back to November 6, not coincidentally my wife’s birthday. I have shouldered this development with bravery and fortitude the last few years until Thanksgiving. But something has changed in me this year. I find myself no longer passively resisting, but actively participating in the pre-Thanksgiving Christmas build up. I know this is crazy. I admit that I need to repent. I think this blog is my way of confessing corporately.
Pray for me.