Engrossed in her selfish life, mother of five spends the day shopping for food for her over-fed family of seven, battling the last-minute, pagan shoppers at the local Meijer's. She actually spends time wondering if her excessively indulged children have enough gifts under the tree so that they won't feel jilted this year, even though Italy looms in the near future as their real gift (an extravagant middle class vacation, not exactly a missions trip).
Yet in the back of her mind, knowing that she would give donuts to the poor (fire fighters) after singing the spirit-of-Christmas hymn "Silent Night," while holding a white lit candle circled by a paper doilie (along with 800 conscientious Christmas participants) gave her the sense that she was not a complete fraud, succumbing to the pressures of a secular, gifted Christmas.
Alas, this year, the real Christians pulled a fast one and changed the service time from 6:00 to 4:00 p.m. catching hypocrite, once-a-year attendees in their shallow Christmas spirit. We are already one hour too late.
I am she. I am a Christmas fraud.