God Bless Us, Every One

I woke up late today (I can just hear someone saying "you overslept? You?") and dozed early in the morning, writing a Christmas note that was on my mind... I woke up to flip the laptop on, and it looked like a cat had walked across my laptop keyboard... it looked like: "dqfwaebdgjnmdfhjf". I thought, oh dear, I can't post this! So this Mad Russki must get to work... (I'm already teased that I got all tuckered out spreading cheer!) and attempt to put this together. 
The meaning of Christmas is not in the glow and "Pure Electric Sex" of the beautiful plastic leg lamp, nor in every cartoon Christmas special out there. It is not in trite "Happy Holidays"s offered to be polite. Or in sitting on Santa, and if you're me, offering a peck on the cheek, and "Gosh, Santa, you're cute!" It is not in fruit cake, rum balls, turkey, ham, and pretty cookies.
It is showing your pure joy, being a child again, offering genuine, honest love, even to mean people, who might not actually be mean, but just sad or lonely. (Sure, I've met, and bounced off a genuine Grinch in this pursuit... I told a woman who happily practices black arts, and admits it, Merry Christmas, when leaving a meeting one day. I HONESTLY meant it, with every part of me, but she shouted, with spittle actually appearing, "I don't celebrate that!"- at the time, I had no idea of any religion/ whatever, I found that later- but it scared me to see the anger, and I stuttered, "Happy Whatever, then!") If what you wish to say, sounds trite, say it honestly, with a full and open heart. But even if you dislike a person, do not be rude... say Merry Christmas to even the Mr. Potters out there. With feeling, with love just because they're human, too.
May God bless us, everyone. Even the mean people.
Love, Bethy