the morning after

It's nearly 2 AM and I'm curled up in bed reflecting on another Christmas. Every Christmas is vastly different from the one before. This Christmas, when trying to come up with a word, was simply...good. I suppose what I mean is that everything that happened somehow, I'm believing, was the way it should be. It was a Christmas of limited resources, and one that marks the end of one chapter of my life and begins another. Tomorrow begins a week of much preparation.

I was listening to a radio show about how, in the midst of all of the celebrating, Christmas is a day with intrinsic dissapointment. It's a day where our hopes are set so high that it's impossible for the day to meet the challenge. In other words, it's a day we realize that we don't get everything we want.

I had to admit that it was true, I wasn't driving home with everything I wanted. There are a few things that I would like to be carrying with me. But I'm not sure I felt dissapointed. In fact, I'm satisfied. Sure, there are parts of my soul sipping a late night bourbon with Blue Christmas playing on the jukebox, but as I returned home and considered the day, I know it was a day well spent. I used the resources I had to tell people in different ways how they matter to me, got to celebrate with people I love from morning worship through the wee hours, was comforted by text exchanges from my children that they are well, and filled my belly with good food and wine.

No room for complaining there. Tomorrow

I'm going to get up and try all those things again.

In my final reflection, I think that might just be the point. I love Christmas because it's the beginning of the conversation of love and not merely an annual shout-out. Tomorrow I'm going to get up and I hope to spend time with people I care deeply for, spend my resources on making the world better for myself and them, interact with my boys, and end the day proud of how I lived. I'm guessing I'll end the day with a few items on my wish list, but if I'm given a whole other day I'll keep walking like I did today. I want to end each day proud of how I lived, how I gave, and how I loved. I don't want to waste a moment on dissapointment that I could be spending embracing the wonder of every season.

It's the day after...now let's get to living.

I thought the restaurant was closed at first. The entire place was eerily empty.  I watched a small group stroll across the parking lot toward the door and I waited before parking my truck to see if they gained entrance.  As the door gave way to their efforts I pulled into the nearest space and walked in. I stood behind them to discover that they were a family visiting where a young man in the midst worked. They were quick to make note that I was a "real customer" and I made my order and sat down. I felt like I was in a movie scene. Christmas eve, a man in a suit sits all alone in an empty restaurant. 

I thought about it for a moment. 

Today was a day of good work. Last night I built a Christmas world for my boys that could only be described as grace. Good gifts...lots of them...flowed from the Christmas tree that my children would soon (and sooner than I expected) begin to enjoy. We spent the morning together and I sent them off with their mother to spend a week with their grandparents. I went to work on some last minute things for the people I have left to give to, took a shower, and went to get ready for the Christmas eve family service that I would be running that evening. 

It's now over.

Now I'm enjoying a salad and bowl of soup reflecting on what I was able to give. 

And I'm proud.

My feet hurt. I can feel the finish line behind me. It's been over a month of planning and saving and scrimping to make Christmas happen. There have been unexpected obstacles along the way, but it came anyway. Christmas has come and I made it here.

In this season, it's not possible or practical that I do anything but sit in a quiet moment tonight. Choices have been made and I spend the holiday alone. It's part of the deal. However, the love that has been given to me allows me to spend a great deal on the people I care about and to those I'm called to serve. 

For now, I'm spent.

For now, I simply celebrate the silent night.

In a moment, I'm going to get up and go to a family service with people I've grown to care deeply about. I've got more loving to do with them and then I'm going to send them off to where they need to be...hopefully with something I leave behind in them. I'll head home, maybe have some egg nog, and breathe a sigh of a season well done and say a prayer that the next year will be more than the last. 

I've been given a great grace tonight. Visible in the solitary silent night. 

To the child of grace who became the man of love who has lived in my shoes, I simply whisper "thank you."

Merry Christmas to all...and to all a good night.

Michael

the gift of the magi...considered

The soles of my boots are falling off. They are a brand that is supposed to be guaranteed for life...but I'm thinking that they didn't expect a man to wear them every single day for the last 4 years. I suppose a little wear is acceptable. As I considered what glue might work, I noticed the game system I bought for Jack, the guitar I bought for Taylor, and the bag of other gifts, purchased for the ones I love. The money spent on those gifts would buy me a killer pair of boots. I could walk across the country in them. Instead, I bought gifts for my children.

What was I thinking?

Remember the story "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry? A man sells his prized possession, a pocket watch, to buy his wife hair combs, only do discover that she has cut her hair to buy him a watch fob.

(insert "awwww" here)

Yeah, pretty much the best Christmas ever.

Gift giving is one of those illogical things we do as humans. We give, often sacrificially, out of our limited resources. The goal, it seems, is merely to see another human smile.

What are we thinking?

Truly, it's in our DNA. In the season in which we celebrate God's love gift, we find ourselves acting a bit more like Him. I think that's why it's "the most wonderful time of the year"...because it's this season we act a bit more like we were designed to act. He gave and it filled Him with joy equal to the sacrifice.

That's a lot of joy...we seldom consider the joy of God.

So, I'm happy to wear my old boots, because in just a few weeks, my children and a handful of people who live in my heart will open something i picked out for them. It will be a great day.

I won't, for even a moment, think the sacrifice of this month wasn't worth it.

But, if you could recommend a good glue...I'd appreciate it.

Santa...one year later

A year after writing the stories and reflections from Santaland, I found myself on I-95 driving toward Richmond, VA. Our plan for months was to go and visit Santa…our Santa…when he returned to the Bridgewater mall.  We would have him again for thanksgiving and take him out for dinner or a glass of White Zinfandel, Santa’s preferred wine, a few times in the season.

But, after nearly a decade at Bridgewater Mall, Santa, our Santa, had been assigned to a small mall in Richmond VA.

It would require an all-night drive, and a lot of coffee, but we would be there when Santa started his shift and have yet another cup of coffee with this man we have come to love.

It was a perfect sunny morning, wildly different than the grey rain that we left in NJ. Taking it as God’s grace, we parked outside the Macy’s and entered the last leg of our mission. We were on the top floor and knew that all we had to do was to look for the tree. Santa is always under the tree.  Sure enough, following star on the top of the mall tree like Magi led us to our intended target…

Santa.

We all agreed to position ourselves on the top railing and look down at the Santa photo set and do some spying. There was Santa, holding court with the people whose job it was to make kids smile, take pictures, and sell frames. There were no kids in line, it was early yet, and the economy had driven people from hitting the stores in this blue collar neighborhood. Santa looked up and gave us a very santa-like wave - regal, almost like queen elizabeth, - until he realized who it was that was spying on him.

It should be noted again that this man is Santa Claus. He believes he has been given a God-given call to bring belief into the world and he never cracks character…at least he hadn’t until this moment where recognition hit him and he threw his hands in the air and shouted as he leapt from his chair. We made our way down the escalator, and, after walking around the entire set trying to find our way in, was greeted with the warm and velour of a hug from Santa Claus.

Santa was in shock.

“I can’t believe you guys” he would say over and over…ironic considering that Santa should be believing in good things. Truth is, I know Santa, and I know his story. With all of the love that he gives and all the faith he dispenses every day, his life from January through October isn’t one of being surrounded by the joys of the season. His life, like many of ours, is rife with challenges and his life, like I began telling you in this book, hadn’t turned out the way he had planned.

When you are in the red suit it’s easy to believe in good things for others, but believing in good things for yourself is sometimes insurmountable. 

I get that.

Love is my job. I sell faith like James Brown. There isn’t an insincere moment in my sell. I really believe. I think the fact that I really believe makes me good at what I do. People have enough alternate agenda in their lives…a man who truly believes, and is honest about the perfectly imperfect nature of our journey, is a welcome change. I, like Santa, have no problem believing in good things for everyone else, but it has taken some time to believe in good things for me.

Santa’s shock tells me that he expects to be the giver…

…we made him a receiver. 

Breaking protocol, Santa took us for a walk, asking the helpers to alert him if children arrived. They didn’t have to, children found Santa. He paused with each of them. Some shared their wishes and others bashfully waved. And in-between the moments of his call he did was came natural to him…

…He asked our stories.

He was excited to discover how we had travelled farther and listened with compassion as we discussed the places we had yet to travel. It is amazing how easy it is to tell your story to someone you know is really listening. 

We walked back to the set, and got our picture taken with him…repeating our poses from last year. 

The woman behind the camera, I assume for the first time ever, had to tell Santa to smile. I looked and there was a tear forming in the eye of my friend. A couple of jokes and we turned back to the camera with joyful smiles and a received photo to treasure for the rest of our lives. 

We enjoyed some final exchanges of hugs and a gave a gift before saying goodbye.

Santa only said one word. With a detectable Georgia drawl he simply said

“Bye”

The quiver on his lip told me it was the only word he could get out and it was time to go. If we lingered any longer or if he said anything further, Santa would break character. He couldn’t do that. Santa was on a mission and there was a family in the giant snow globe waiting to believe…again.

It’s not often that you get to give to Santa. 

On the return trip the realization set in that we were returning to our moment in the journey. There were people to love and things to figure out. We were farther in the journey, but there was a lot more road to go. We wake up everyday and just love the best we can. The love we had in the moment was more than enough to sustain us another day.

Santa taught us that.

Jesus taught him that.

Here’s to waking up every day and believing…just one more time.