Good Christmas Eve morning to all: I hope you all enjoy this week's short 'devotion' of sorts, maybe like a little breath of fresh air. I have a new Apple watch that has an app on it that takes you one minute of deep breathing. Well, here's your minute -- or two -- to get a cup of coffee, hot chocolate, apple cider, hot tea, or your favorite drink and sit out on the 'front porch' with us, the day before Christmas.
One more note: For the last couple of months, the amazin' blonde and I have enjoyed sort-of a 'renewed' relationship with some great friends from down South. These ladies have gone through an unexpected loss in their lives in recent months (the loss was ours, too), and since that time we have been able to share thoughts together in writings and texts. I hope I do not 'blow up' their phones too much, because I don't get that many texts and have plenty of room. They may not.
But it has been a great joy for the amazin' blonde and me to reconnect with them, something that helps us as much as them. You know how you don't do as good of a job along the way as you should with daily or weekly correspondence; and we're not going to let that happen again, the Lord be willing.
We have been able to reminisce with the sweet 'mom' of the family, one of the neatest ladies you'd ever meet, the epitome of a true Southern lady, for sure. The 'best friend' she lost was one of my very best lifelong friends, too, and maybe the most positive persons I have known. Together they always were sunshine.
We, and the daughters he left behind, have sorted through life together a great deal since that time, too -- remembering some, looking at the scriptures some, too, and sharing in our journey of waiting upon the Lord and renewing our strength. Clouds have set in, we know, but they still reflect much of the positive spirit that surrounded them at home all their lives.
We pray the Lord's blessings on all of you during this time, and especially on our friends from down South. Hope this reading gives you a little smile and -- well -- maybe a little 'sunshine' too.
God bless!
Coach
(or, as my buddy Ryan preferred, Stevie Wonder) :)
P.S. Thanks, as always, for reading and sharing this time.
It was almost 20 years ago when we first told the story we are about to share together. Sometimes our favorite stories are the simplest, aren’t they! They’re the ones that run out to meet you in the front yard. Those heart-warming types of stories seem to live the longest, as it is with today’s story about a little lady on the side of the road. …
The idea for this Christmas story comes, I suppose, from an appropriate place: from a homeless lady standing on the side of the road at a red light with a sign,
“Please help. Trying to get home for Christmas.”
Seeing that lady – many days shy of thirty years – with teeth unkept and clothes shabby, standing there during the Christmas season begging, brought a lump to my throat. I couldn’t help it.
I know. She may make more money in a day than we make in a week.
I know. She may use the money to buy drugs or alcohol.
But I couldn’t think about those things as I rolled down my window and handed her a little money, and asked:
“Where’s home?”
“Oklahoma,” she said, kindly, “I want to go to Oklahoma for Christmas to see my two kids.”
“I hope you make it,” I said, “I really hope you do.”
The light turned green, and she said “God bless you,” and my daughter Rachel and I pressed on about our holiday business, buying gifts, hustling and bustling along with the rest of the world.
After a moment, I looked over at my daughter Rachel, and I could tell that she was still processing that little 30-second scene.
“I don’t know whether that girl was really in need or not,” I said, “but whatever brings a person to stand on the corner of a street to beg for money is sad.”
Especially during the holidays.
I’ve carried that little memory with me during this week as I’ve spent time with my own family. And I thought of all the things I hope to do this week during this holiday season.
Ah, the list is long: Drink a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows.
Roast marshmallows in the fireplace.
Open presents in front of the fire and watch faces glow.
Watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “Home Alone” one more time.
Eat fudge and chocolate covered cherries and pretzels dipped in white chocolate.
Play cards around the kitchen table.
Sleep late and wake to the sound of cartoons and the smell of breakfast cooking.
Watch football.
Go for a walk together in the crisp wintry air.
Jump in the car with family and drive around ooo-ing and ahhh-ing at all the lights and decorations.
Drink spicy hot apple cider.
Call my grandma and wish her a happy 89th Christmas.
Listen to my favorite Christmas song: “Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head. The stars in the sky looked down where he lay. The little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay …”
And then listen to our second favorite: “Silver Bells. Silver Bells. It’s Christmas time in the city. Ding-a-ling. Hear them ring. Soon it will be Christmas Day ...”
Walk around the house, lighting the mood singing “Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh. O’er the fields we gooo, dashing all the waaaay” – until my kids say, “Dad, please stop singin’ that song!”
Be nice and accommodate my kids’ request and change songs: “Rudolph the red nose reindeer. Had a very shiny nose. And if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows …” Then change songs, and the mood, this time for my own sake: “I’ll be home for Christmas. If only ... in ... my … dreams.”
You know, that’s what I want most of all.
Just being here with the ones for whom we care the most and see that they are safe and sound and doing well this year, and home for Christmas.
And I really hope that all of you get a chance to be home this year. I hope you gather with your families and loved ones and at least do a few of the things on this list, with joy. And somewhere up in Oklahoma, I hope there’s a young lady who once stood on the side of the road, now opening presents and singing Christmas tunes with two happy little kids who call her mom.
If that little dream comes true, that’ll be one less person homeless for Christmas ~ December 1999.
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