Christmas confusions

In the end, the Christmas best is the chance and the will to look into my wife's eyes.

One mind, ten faces

Christmas is here. I pray, I reach out to God.
But I read Joseph Campbell on the schizophrenia of religion.
The question of being a child before God, even though you may be 60. That is where churches seem to drive it all.
Where should you be?
There is a sense of autonomy that makes people wish to stare steadfast in the eyes of God. "See? I'm me!"
Yet this child, this Christmas.
So carols come in pretty, yes.
So the gifts, the giving, the kisses, yes.
So this question of the interior facets. The many faces. The provision of masks, of personae.
Who are you tonight? Whom are you with? A mask for each you.
Perhaps growth is finally to be one with all.
Finally, one person, not a child, a beggar, not a powerful me, before this God.
For God is taught so differently. Christmas has so many cards at play.
This God should be one. Always. Perhaps.
Perhaps I could always be one, the same. Not a thousand faces nor a thousand facets.
But the year is past. Time is today.
And you come to pass by this second.
Your second, my heart. Now.