Perfection of Inadequacy

Here we are, Christmas Eve. For some reason it just doesn't mean that much to me anymore. It's become my plastic statue of Jesus; only a reminder of Him. It's as if we're celebrating His birthday, but He wasn't even invited to the party.

I wish it meant that much. It's alright though. It's alright becuase He still means that much to me. I love you, Father. Compared to you I am the perfection of inadequacy.