Sad Life

I was out for a few drinks with some friends from class, and I overheard the following conversation.

English Guy:... yeah, in England Sunday is a day for family.
Shaggy Mennonite: Oh yeah. I grew up in Winkler, and it's the same there. It's a day for, like, family and for church and stuff.
EG: Not for me though. For me Sunday is just like any other day.
SM: I know what you mean. What makes Sunday different from any other day of the week?
EG: I know, yeah. It's just like any other day. Even Christmas is just like any other day.
SM: Totally. It's just like any other day.
EG: Yeah, I spent Christmas alone last year, and I'm spending it alone this year, and I don't care, because it's just another day...

And I thought to myself: What a sad existance.

Imagine a life with nothing to look forward to, when every day is just like every other. I feel more sorry for EG than I would if he said he was alone and wishing he had someone to spend Christmas with. He doesn't even know what he's missing.

And I realized how glad I am to be a Christian: to have festivals and holidays to look forward to—festivals that mean something. And I realized how glad I am that I have a small festival every single week—that every Sunday is like Christmas in miniature. And I feel very, very sorry for EG and SM.