Away in a Coffin

The other night I recounted how, just two years ago, my sibling thought Christmas was a holiday that commemorated Jesus's death. My friend diplomatically reasoned that my sibling has a gift for blocking out information that's not relevant to her. If that's the case, as far as I can tell, only fashion and Kate Hudson movies are relevant to her.

At a Christmas Eve service last night, the minister read Bible verses about Jesus being born and we sang no fewer than five carols about Jesus being born. A redundant message, sure, but the reason for the season, after all.
Turning to my sibling, I whispered, "So, when did Jesus die?"
"I don't know... Christmas?"
I laughed at her joke.
"What?" she asked earnestly.
I laughed even harder because it turned out she wasn't joking.

Not only was my sister not paying attention to the service, including the words she was singing out of the hymnal, but she had managed to forget the very fact we had teased her for relentlessly just two Christmases before.

Some things never change.

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