War on shame

As I'm getting ready to head out to the first of many Christmas parties, I'm struck with an overwhelming buzz of anxiety.

The party is at a restaurant. I'm loading myself and Kyle up with food because we can't afford to eat out. I'm trying to explain to Kyle why we won't be eating. I don't think he gets it. And I'm feeling a bit of shame over the fact we can't afford it.

Should I have declined to go?

Faced with other gift exchanges, my anxiety level is spiking even more. It was hard enough for us to squeeze out one. I think I'm gonna have to politely decline the others.

Again, how embarassing.

But why am I feeling shame at not being able to afford Christmas stuff?

I have a house - today. My husband has a job - today. Booger is healthy - today. I have clothes to wear - today. I have lots of friends - today.

I have more than people in Russia and Latvia. I'm filthy stinkin' rich compared to most people in third world countries.

I have Jesus.

Oh? What's that?

Jesus.

Shame isn't from God. It's from Satan himself. I'm falling prey to it, allowing myself to be distracted from the reason we celebrate this holiday in the first place.

So - it's okay not to buy gifts or go out to eat and attend fancy parties. Really. I say so. Someone has to say so.

I'm going to focus on being content with what I have. Focus on the birth of Christ since I don't have to rush around buying gifts.

Hard... yeah.

Impossible?

No.

Anyone else with me?