Bubble: (n) used to refer to a fortunate situation that is isolated from reality or unlikely to last.
When my parents told me there was no Santa Claus, the revelation that the rumor had been greatly exaggerated did not totally deflate my young, eleven-year-old soul.
It’s that nothing really changed.
I was getting toys–and I continued to get toys. The fact that they weren’t coming from the North Pole was somewhat insignificant.
Even if I wanted to be huffy about the “fake news” concerning Mr. Claus, it was difficult for me to make a major case, considering the fact that I still had the presents.
But when I was told that the government of the United States was “for the people, by the people and of the people,” and as an adult I discovered there is much misrepresentation to that assertion–well, it’s a different “checks and balances.”
It will also be much more disappointing if I find out that God was a Holy-Land-Hoax.
In both cases, I can’t live in a bubble or isolate myself and pretend I don’t know.
Because with no government or God, the toys quickly disappear.
The absence of a good government opens the door to all sorts of graft, corruption and scandal.
Likewise, to be minus a deity is a guarantee that my eternal home will be grave circumstances, with my dreams turning to dust.
This is serious stuff, folks.
I can live without Santa Claus.
I cannot prosper if our government is dishonest or if the two-party system is a one-lane road to dissension.
And I certainly don’t want to spend my Earthly life revering a supernatural being who ends up merely the figment of the imagination of Bedouin nomads.
What can I do to make sure that my leaders–Republican and Democrat–honor the premise of liberty?
And who should I have been if God ends up taking the Santa Claus nose dive?
Published by Jonathan Cring