The day before Christmas combines feelings of anticipation, preparation, and spiritual reflection. A time of joy when the organized adults among us are mentally prepared and have completed their gift buying.
For others, it’s a hectic, frantic time. Some shoppers have procrastinated to the afternoon before Christmas day. Last minute shopping is an enjoyable yearly challenge. It’s a chance to beat the odds hoping that the “unique” gift for which they are searching remains available on the fast emptying specialty store shelves. This was a successful strategy last year!
Grocery store clerks wish closing time would soon arrive – very soon. These young men and women are tired of smiling, of bagging food while standing at busy cash registers, of stocking and restocking shelves. Where do all these shoppers come from? Clerks silently groan, but maintain a smile, at the thought of again explaining to overwrought customers that canned pumpkin is in aisle 11 when large overhead signs decorated in seasonal colors and strategically placed by management already convey the message.
Husbands apprehensively pace the jammed parking lot while surveying the lineup of welcoming stores at the mall. These successful corporate leaders appear disoriented, confused, lost. Foreheads are wet with beads of nervous sweat. It’s been a year since he ventured into these dens of capitalism. Modern day explorers, dads apprehensively note the ringing alarm on their smart phone screams that the time is creeping oh so close to the 6 o’clock closing time. It’s 5:30. Panic! The annual foray into Macy’s reveals smiling sales assistants standing amidst rows and rows of festively decorated sales displays. What did the wife say was her heart’s desire? Panic attack again! Nuts, the kids don’t remember either. Oh yes, an Irish sweater. The wife always loves these! What size, what color? AHA! There it is. I know she will like that hand knitted white sweater that’s on sale.
Simultaneously, suburban soccer moms ponder the annual question “does he have a clue what I want for a gift ? Please, I do not want another white wool sweater from Ireland. Three is enough! Each year I ask for jewelry and each year he comes with another sweater! The family concierge, she is in charge of organizing both dinner and church schedules. What time is church tomorrow? We haven’t been there since Easter. The church office is closed. No information on the internet. Call the neighbors? No, that idea is too embarrassing. Daughter Cindy is 12. How do I explain to her that we don’t have a clue about the church’s schedule when her friends are proudly talking about showing off their new winter jackets?
Oh well, we’ll try to make time to catch a service on TV. That will suffice. Anyway, Xmas is more about toys, sweaters and jewelry than religion. We now call it a holiday instead of Christmas. Christ was left out of the equation a long time ago. Watching the children smile as they open gifts is important so we as parents can feel good about ourselves and our career achievements. Passing along the idea that spiritual values are necessary is a waste of time in today’s world.
Hmm – have we come to this? What will our legacy be?
The Lineage of Christ , Ghandi, Mother Theresa Lives On in Our Hamlet
Some high impact people are born destined to be great.
They rub elbows, from their earliest days, with the best and the brightest
Whether it be sport fields, sailing regattas, evenings at the MET,
They are in the spotlight, trained in the classics, articulate, prep school attired,
Prepared for positions of prominence, wealth, and power
Others come from humble beginnings such as Abe Lincoln ,
Home schooled or blue collar graduates of public high schools
Of superior intellect, drive, and circumstance
They appear out of no where ( which of course is not the case).
Then there are local prophets, magi from the East.
Often times of modest beginnings
Who come to positions of leadership by helping the poor
Mentoring businesses, sweating over hot stoves at County Fairs
Taking time to listen to those needing advice
All without recognition of the media or the electorate
Reverently spoken about over kitchen tables, campfires of the homeless,
At the Yacht Club and corporate board rooms, all know and honor him.
Then our dear friend passes away and it is time for the church eulogy
They come by the hundreds.. the poor ..those who slept in cars and under
bridges, who ran afoul of the law, mayors and politicians, successful business people
whom he mentored:
Some dressed in Nordstrom finest: others in stained and dirty flannels, shoes dirty with
muck and grime,
The church air was an amalgam of French Perfume combined with the sweat of
roofers and Mexican day laborers
All scrunched together in the tiny church , thigh to thigh, commonly sharing their tears, but more telling
Sharing their love and affection.. looking hesitantly at each other
But knowing in their hearts that this one man of Nordic heritage changed the lives of so many..
From that lineage of the few we meet who are Christ like, or Ghandi like, or Mother Theresa like
He moved among us all: a person of staunch principles, he moved churches, governments,
and the selfish among us by the sheer
power of his faith, values, and personality.
He sleeps now in the cold ground overlooking this hamlet.
Approaching his gravesite, there is an aura, an undefined air,
A voice from the protecting trees tells all that here lies a special person,
A messenger from God, who helped us all to listen and most of all.. to act.
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