At 10:47am MST, the sun stood still, as it were, and turned back towards the forsaken. Now, when it seems darkest, the light returns a little more each day. Rejoice. peace, mjh

Time to recall the reason for the season: Peace on Earth, Good Will To All. Recently, the Albuquerque Journal ran a letter in which the writer declaimed that Christ is the Alpha and Omega of the holiday season:

 ABQJOURNAL OPINION/LETTERS: There’s 1 Reason for the Season

I WANTED TO comment on Obama’s statements he made in a speech, that the United States is not a Christian nation but instead is a country of "citizens who are bound by ideals and a set of values." My response is that it is a load of bull. Anyone who knows the history of this great country is aware of the truth: that the founding fathers were Christian men who founded this country to be a Christian nation based upon Christian values.

As for the people who try to keep Christ out of all the celebrations this time of year, I would like to know, exactly what is it they think these celebrations are for? Maybe they have some reason for celebrating on Dec. 25 I’m not aware of. As far as I know, the one and only reason for the world-wide celebration on that day … is a birthday party. – STinker

ABQJOURNAL OPINION/LETTERS: There’s 1 Reason for the Season

Soon after, several other letters appeared from those who disagreed. This one is representative:

 ABQJOURNAL OPINION/LETTERS: Letters To the Editor

The Founding Fathers, to which Mr. STinker refers, were not all practicing Christians. They did not intend to create a Christian nation. Nowhere in the Constitution did they put the word Christian, or Jesus, or Christ. In fact, the very first amendment they added to that marvelous Constitution grants freedom of religion to all Americans.
        In addition, not only are most of the people in the world not Christian, and therefore do not celebrate Dec. 25, not even all Christian sects consider Dec. 25 as the day marking Jesus’ birth.
        Our president was absolutely correct. We are not a Christian nation. Rather, we are a nation of people bound by certain ideals; among those is freedom of religion.
        Happy Chanukah, Joyful Kwanza, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, peaceful Ramadan, and may all celebrate their religion in freedom and respect. — A. FLICKER

ABQJOURNAL OPINION/LETTERS: Letters To the Editor

As an atheist, I have no objection to people being nice, friendly, festive, and generous. The holidays – the weeks from Thanksgiving through New Years, really are the most wonderful time of the year (if you don’t feel compelled to shop). We gather, we catch up, we brighten each others lives a bit. It’s ironic people need to be forced to be nice by rules and faith, but, whatever works. Far worse, are those whose faith says “love one another,” but who, in fact, hate those who are different.  Further proof that religion has outlived its usefulness and may well cause more harm than good. Merry Solstice and a Happy New Calendar to one and all. Joy to the World. peace, mjh

Recently, a friend of mine recounted a difficult day that ended well. I nodded along – we’ve all been there and will be again. Then, she ended the tale with “god is good all the time” and I was taken aback. Nothing in her tale invoked or even hinted at a god, as far as I could tell. This was not a tale of being saved from a terrible fate; this was a mundane event.

I’m writing now because, sometimes, writing helps me understand. Further, I imagine my friend would be taken aback by me being taken aback. We have an opportunity for discussion here, but we know going in, no minds will be changed fundamentally. Her surprisingly-casual and intimate relationship with the divine will not change nor will the scales fall from my eyes. I don’t want to change her or challenge her but I do want to respond to her or, rather, the shock I felt.

First, people have a right and need to speak and not everything we say should be analyzed or challenged. Self-expression becomes more difficult from adolescence on. In my case, so much of what I say is sheer glibbery, but, then, I don’t have an immortal soul or a god to back it up. If I did, s/he would save me from myself right now.

Secondly, in this world aflame, it is common to blurt out “screw you” or “you lie” in self-righteousness and self-importance. I do not mean to do so here.

I mean, instead, to get back to that initial story in which I saw no god and my friend saw “him” (?) every step of the way. That she believes in a god is not shocking. That she believes “god is good all the time” is jaw-dropping, given endless evidence to the contrary. It is as if we live in what should be separate universes. Yet here we are, occupying the same space-time with one huge paradox: : hers has a god and mine does not.

As you may know already , our house was robbed recently. Someone kicked in the side door, destroying the deadbolt, door, and frame. Beyond the destruction in the kitchen, the bedroom took the worst of the attack. The thug(s) ransacked Merri’s dresser, taking jewelry that was primarily of sentimental value. Sloppily, they left one earring each from several pairs. The bed was shoved aside to access an almost empty nightstand. A fanny pack in Mer’s closet was examined. It appears the thief/thieves broke into Merri’s locked office but touched nothing. It’s not clear they made it to my office. Someone methodically removed everything from the glovebox in the truck in the garage and opened both wardrobes. In the end, the most valuable object they took was a relatively new 19” TV and remote from the kitchen (<$200). In the process, they unplugged the stove, freezing its clock at 7:20, either Friday evening, 9/11, or Saturday morning, 9/12. Both times are still in daylight. Coming or going, the crook(s) left the front gate open (not all of the turtles are accounted for) and destroyed a section of the back fence for access to the church parking lot, which is visible from Indian School and the YMCA parking lot.

Because our neighbor checked the house around 7:25am Sat, there is a real possibility he interrupted the robbery. We’re glad he didn’t actually encounter these worthless vermin.

Lucky’s memorial is just outside that kitchen door, in the spot he occupied his last months and moments. If his spirit hasn’t moved on, he was beside himself over his inability to protect us this last time.

In the days since, we have cleaned up. There is a temporary heavy-duty bolt on the shattered door plus an alarm that shrieks at the slightest touch. We’ve ordered wrought iron security doors. We leave and return to the house with great trepidation. We’ve learned that many other houses in our neighborhood have been hit in recent weeks. The filthy scum will move on soon to terrorize another neighborhood. When I meet them in Hell, I will drive deadbolts through their eye sockets.

I think life is best lived without keeping score. If one insists on tracking ups and downs, then it is wise to recall some people have things unimaginably worse. But, detached philosophy aside, this has been a lousy summer: car totaled, dog dead, home invaded. Granted, Merri wasn’t hurt much in the wreck; we had 11 great years with Lucky; and the stupid thieves wasted their time shattering 22 years of peace and security for chump-change. Life goes on.

Four weeks ago today, Lucky died. We think of him every day and miss him dearly. I dreamed about him for the first time a couple of nights ago. He was looking up at me and I called to Merri, “Lucky’s here!” As I looked up, I could see into another room and saw another Lucky. From a third room, Merri replied, “He’s in here, too!” Read in this what you will.

For my 40th birthday, I asked my friends to shave my head in an unintentionally bloody fireside ceremony in Chaco Canyon. I half-jokingly referred to that as a ritual sacrifice. As an atheist, I have to create my own communal rituals and rites of passage to mark the milestones of my life.

Twenty four hours after Lucky’s death, I shaved my head again. In some cultures, the grieving ululate, whip themselves, and rend their clothing. Now I wear my sacrifice as a disfigurement I cannot hide. Still, in time, some of my hair may come back in a slow indication of renewal. Life does go on.

Although Lucky took to Merri immediately, he wasn’t so sure about me. He eyed me suspiciously and kept his distance. The first time I entered our bedroom as Merri slept, Lucky barked a warning. We considered it might be my maleness, about which I have never been able to do anything, one way or the other. In desperation, I shaved off my goatee (my pride), as a sacrifice for the pack. Eventually, Lucky came around and the goatee came back.

We’ll bury my hair with Lucky’s ashes, as well as with shards of his food bowl, which I shattered. A part of me will always be with a part of him, and vice versa.