This Christmas season, I've suffered
from a severe case of nostalgia. Most of it has to do with the fact
that I will be spending Christmas morning alone. My wife has to work
Christmas morning, and my children are all spending Christmas
somewhere else. It's been a long time since I've left Harrison,
Arkansas to go share Christmas with any of my family, so I don't have
any room to complain. My children have all moved on to bigger, and
busier cities where they could find employment or to live near their
spouse's family. Being a self-employed handyman, it is extremely
difficult to break away at this time of year because business is
extremely slow, money is tight, and it is all we can do to buy gifts.
Needless to say, I'd been in a little bit of a funk.
Actually, I have everything to be
thankful for. At 58 years-old, I'm in good health, my strength is
good, and my mind is reasonably sharp. I have a home, good vehicles,
and all the toys I can play with. My wife is a joy, and her love for
me is more precious than anything on earth. I attend a wonderful
faith fellowship, have a fantastic pastor, and have fellowship with
some of the most amazing men I've ever known. I am blessed to be
gainfully employed by a prince of a man who treats me with the
respect, and honor I've always longed for. My days are spent working
with a young man who loves Christ with all his heart, and who helps
to keep me young. I am grateful to God for all I have, and the
people who surround my life. Still, knowing that Christmas morning I
would be alone had kind of tinted my enthusiasm.
It was in this mood, that I had a
profound moment of being tenderly touched by the Holy Spirit. It was
in the middle of the last snow storm we had, and I'd headed into town
early so I could use my computer at the church. It was about 5 in
the morning, the roads were slick with ice, and the 10 inches of snow
hadn't even begun to melt. I'd already passed a few homes decked out
in lights, and had thought to myself how much I used to enjoy taking
our children to see the lights when they were young. As I stopped at
the four-way in our town square, I began to weep uncontrollably. I
was so overcome, I had to pull over. Somehow, the Christmas decorations in
our courthouse square took me back to my childhood. I suddenly felt
the awe, and wonder of Christmas once again. All around me the
lights glistened off the icy road, off of store fronts, and lit up
the massive snow drifts with a wash of color. Suddenly I was a kid
again enraptured with the Christmas lights.
I found myself remembering going through
Enid, Oklahoma as a young boy of seven or eight. My Mom, and Dad
were on their way home to Ponca City for Christmas, long before I-35 had ever been built. I was laying in the back seat
of the car looking out the rear window at the lights strung from
light post to light post. At one point I remember it being like a
tunnel of lights as we drove through downtown. They formed swirls of
light on the frosty rear window and through the side windows. Then
the most gi-normous Christmas tree I'd ever seen made me sit up. It
was so tall, I couldn't see the top of it. The ornaments were like
three times the size of any I'd ever seen. I remember feeling that
Enid had to be the best place to live. To make the moment even
better, it began to snow. Not little bitty flakes, but giant
enormous flakes that seemed to be amplified in the cars headlights.
We drove from Enid to Ponca City through this amazing snow storm that
wouldn't stop. I was too young to know that my Mom, and Dad were
scared witless. All I remember is driving up to my grandma's house,
and her leaning out the front door with a brightly lit aluminum
Christmas tree behind her. I'd never seen one before, and I dashed
into the house completely ignoring my grandma's advance for a hug.
That image of her leaning out her front door framed by the glow of
the porch light, and Christmas tree lights is one of my favorite
memories. I'm sure she'd been worried sick about us, but when you're
seven years old, you don't know these things.
Christmas time for me is always about
lights. I remember the childhood trips to downtown El Paso, Texas
where the huge Christmas tree stood in the fountain in San Jacinto
plaza. Lights were draped in elegant strands from buildings down to
the plaza and from street light to street light, making the square
appear to be a canopy of lights. The backdrop to this amazing
display of lights was the Mariachi Bands doing Christmas music beside
the tree. Let me tell you, there are many times I miss hearing Feliz
Navidad, and the traditional exchanging of tamales.
I remember the Christmas we went to
Aztec, New Mexico. The small towns in the four corners area were
alive with Christmas decorations. As we drove nearer to Aztec, the
snow began to fall, and there was a light dusting of snow over the
red sandstone boulders that lined the road.
Now that I'm older, I understand the
meaning of Christmas lights. Still for me, the lights are the myriad
of angels in joyous song exclaiming God's love for man through the
birth of Jesus. Christmas will always be a time of light, joyous
music, and delightful food, but it is so much more. It is a magical
(yes, magical) time when we light up our daily routine with the gift
of light, love and laughter.
As I wiped the last of my tears from my
eyes, I wondered what had brought me to tears. Our town's seasonal
decorations aren't Christian oriented, and there wasn't mariachi
music in the square. Strands of lights didn't form a tunnel of light
to drive through, and my mind wasn't focused on any of it. The tears
had come from something I'd lost, and was given back to me. . . . A
childlike love of the season.
So, I'll leave you with this thought;
There is nothing offensive in the lights of Christmas, there is
nothing wrong with celebrating the birth of a man who came to rescue
us. Whether you are Jew, Gentile, Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist or just
don't care, what harm is there in remembering a little baby who
brought so much hope to the world. Have we become so cynical we
can't even enjoy that much? Are we so politically correct we can't
recognize that a little child needs to believe in something more than
themselves. A jolly old elf can't harm anyone. What's the big deal
if some fighter pilot gets the joy of strapping on his fighter jet
and escorts Santa across the nation? I guarantee you, that pilot wants to
fly that jet and is willing to let Santa go to the White House.
I'm thankful I got my childhood back,
I'll wake up Wednesday morning, eagerly await the phone calls from my
dispersed children, I'll call my lovely wife, my brothers, as well as my Mom and Dad. Once I've talked my head off, I'll put
Miracle on 34th street in the DVD
player. I may even do the Grinch, simply because I love the
music, and wait for Glenda to come home.
Merry Christmas everyone.
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