There's something about Mary.

As a Christian, I am most appreciative that God sent his only son to die a horrible, miserable, painful death in order to pay for my numerous sins. I am thankful and humbled by the sacrifice made for me, and amazed that forgiveness is mine for the asking. Jesus is the reason for the season. Actually, he is the reason for the whole religion.

But there is something about Mary. I think Christianity doesn't give her sacrifice near the recognition it deserves.

Imagine. You don't get to enjoy a satisfying roll in the hay with the love of your life, but you wind up pregnant anyway. Some selfish king couldn't give a rat's ass that you have just entered your fourth trimester of pregnancy. He wants your name on his tax rolls, no excuses. During a long, miserable donkey ride your water breaks and strong, painful contractions begin. You are a very young woman with no access to medical care, or even your mother. What woman wouldn't be terrified? You can't get a hotel room anywhere in town, not even the Grandview! You wind up in a dirty stable where you labor for hours without the benefit of a doctor- let alone pain medication. At last, while amused farm animals look on, you give birth to a healthy son.

Relieved and exhausted, you are now expected to entertain. Hours ago, you were an inconvenience. Now that you have given birth to the Son of God, angels sing, and a huge star is placed in the sky so that the king's men and all the townfolk can come take a look. They don't care that you haven't even had the chance to bathe. I love the fact that every artist paints Mary - just hours after giving birth - as both beautiful and serene. And the "Wise Men!" Ha! Don't get me started! These guys learn of the birth of the Messiah and what do they do? Bring impractical gifts for the baby! Gosh, guys, don't you have enough pull to at least get this family a room at the Ritz? A Motel Six? At least bring a casserole.

The birth of Christ was difficult enough, but can you imagine what his death must have been like for his mother? I've always thought losing a child would be the hardest burden to bare. The only thing worse would be to helplessly witness your son tortured and slowly put to the death.

There are a few things about being Catholic that trouble me, but IMHO, it is the only sect of Christianity that even comes close to paying Mary the respect and admiration she deserves. At every Mass, Catholics recite in unison:

Hail Mary, Full of Grace,
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners now,
and at the hour of death.
Amen.

Today is put aside as a day to celebrate the birth of Christ, but I always want to shout, "What about Mary?!" This may strike some as blasphemy, but I'd be willing to wager that Mary was not the delicate, petite flower of womanhood portrayed in paintings. I think Mary was probably one tough cookie. She would have to be, which is why God chose her to birth his only son.

So, Happy Birthday, Jesus! And to the new Mommy, Mary, thanks and well done. There will always be a soft bed, clean sheets, and a hot casserole waiting for you at Polly's Place.

For those of you expecting family this holiday...

(This was originally written last Thanksgiving, but it got a lot of hits, so I thought I would re-post it.)

Hey! It could be worse, this could be YOUR mother-in-law.

The holidays are a reminder that we leave home and become independent, free thinking, capable adults for a good reason. The holidays also serve to keep us humble. How great can you be if you share DNA with a guy who undoes his pants at the dinner table in order to make more room for seconds? If you're snickering because you don't share DNA with such people, smack yourself. You willingly married into this family of freaks.

Ladies, don't be control freaks. You want people to have a good time right? Let the guys watch football. No one wants to play charades. Everyone hates charades, and they roll their eyes at you when your back is turned. Turn off the tube for dinner and then let folks do what they want. Better memories are made when folks are happy. Keep the prayer short, and for the love of God, don't make us go around the table and share what we are thankful for. (Real answer: At some point this torture will be over and we can go home.)

Guys, when dinner is served, get your ass to the table. Don't wait until half time or the moment suits you. People worked while you sat around and scratched yourself all so that you could stuff your face. Here's a thought... since the ladies have been working all day, how about the men do the dishes for a change? Fair is fair.

Guests, unless asked, don't give advice. The dining room was painted green because your host/hostess likes green. Please don't go on and on about how lovely a pale yellow would look in a home where someone else pays the mortgage. Your host/hostess knows that you believe a stuffed turkey stays moist, but your hostess believes said stuffing had her stopping to puke at every rest stop on the journey home last year. This year, it's her house, and she's gonna do it HER way. Let go, make yourself useful, and offer to peel the potatoes. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT offer to dust using a comment like, "Clearly you have been too busy for thorough housekeeping, Dear." Your hostess also does not want to entertain your views on disciplining her children, thank you, you old bitty/hag.

Kids, don't gripe about having to sit at the kiddie table. I finally got a seat at the grownup table last year -at forty something- when someone died. It isn't all it's cracked up to be, trust me. Everyone notices when you don't eat Aunt Suzie nasty candied yams. The only thing that makes the grownup table tolerable is the wine.

Speaking of wine, liquor is to flow freely during the holidays. You should definitely bring a bottle. Or two. Skip the flowers and bring three. Jesus turned water into wine for a reason. To prevent us mere mortals from taking our kin too seriously and strangling a relation in lieu of the bird. My holiday commandment is to keep a sense humor by always having a glass of liquor in hand. Burnt bird, a little broken china, an over flowing toilet... all humorous when combined with the proper amount of liquor.

God speed, and remember, if they behave in a particularly evil manner, lace their pumpkin pie with a few drops of raw turkey juice. Works like a charm. Trust me. Heh. Heh.

IT'S A BOY!!!

Mother, (exhausted from long arduous travel on donkey, drug free labor in a dirty manger, next to farm animals) and baby doing well.
Merry Christmas!