Where Are You Christmas?

Phyllis, age eighty, was admitted to hospice for lung cancer in August of 2008. Phyllis and her deceased husband, Floyd, had six children and a colorful life together, partly because of their frequent moves. They lived in Xenia, Ohio for five years; moved to Wilmington, Ohio where they owned a grocery store until it burned down. Next they moved back to Xenia, then to Phoenix Arizona, and then to the desert between Las Angeles and Las Vegas, where the entire family operated a “Stuckeys” roadside service station-restaurant. But it’s their pilgrimage to, and experiences in, Phoenix Arizona that I want to focus on today. I’ll let Phyllis tell their story:

“We moved to Arizona because Pam had spinal meningitis. She was around three years old at the time. She was susceptible to colds and infections so the doctor told us that we needed to move her to a better climate. So we stored our furniture and took what money we had and headed to Arizona; all seven of us in a station wagon. We had five kids from ages two to twelve, and a little dog. And all we had with us was our clothes.

We didn’t know anybody in Phoenix and when we got there we stopped at a small hotel to stay the night. When we told the hotel manager our story he said, ‘I have a house just for people like you. It has everything you need. It’s fully furnished.’” Phyllis reflected, “I always thought that God takes care of you, that there is somebody watching over us. But that proved it to me. We ended up staying there for three months until we got another house.”

Phyllis continued, “Floyd was an architectural cabinetmaker. He was good at woodworking. He had good references and a good reputation so he never had any trouble finding a job. He always ended up the manager every place he worked. But things were tough when we first moved to Arizona. We told the kids that Santa wasn’t going to be able to bring them much that year.”

Pam took over the story from there, “Mom made popcorn balls and dad made a Christmas tree out of them. We opened our presents and we all got wooden airplanes with propellers on them and we spent the whole day together flying our planes. We flew then in the dry water canal across the road from our house. That way we didn’t have to walk as far to pick them up. We had hot dogs for lunch and Sauer kraut and wieners and mashed potatoes and gravy for dinner.” Phyllis added, “But we wouldn’t have had hot dogs if my mom hadn’t sent me some money. We only had one or two dollars left to our name.” Pam concluded, “It was the best Christmas we ever had. We laughed, and smiled and played together. It was the best Christmas we ever had because we were all together. It was family.”

A few weeks ago Phyllis and Pam gave me a surprise present, a balsa wood airplane just like the one they got for Christmas, just like the ones that I used to play with as a child. Now it sits on the book case in my office as a reminder of what Christmas is really all about.

It’s easy to lose the true meaning of Christmas in the midst of all the hustle and bustle. It reminds me of the song, “Where are you Christmas”, from the movie, “The Grench Who Stole Christmas”: “Where are you Christmas, where can I find you, why have you gone away? Where is the laughter you used to bring me, why can’t I hear music play? My world is changing, I’m rearranging. Does that mean Christmas changes to? Where are you Christmas do you remember, the one you used to know? I’m not the same one; see what the time has done. Is that why you have let me go? Christmas is here…if you care. If there is love in your heart and your mind, you will feel like Christmas all the time. I feel you Christmas; I know I’ve found you. You never fade away. The joy of Christmas stays here inside us. Fills each and every heart with love…Fill your heart with love.”

A fellow pilgrim shared this quote with me and told me that I should include it in this story, and I agree; “If you don’t have Christmas in your heart, you aren’t’ going to find it under a tree.”

“…God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another”. (I John 4:7-11)

Isabella's Chicks

This week I’m revisiting my old friend, Ed. You may remember him. He’s the ninety-two year old man who taught us about “The joy of a thankful heart”; about “counting our blessings, not our birthdays” and the danger of “getting old before our time when we get old in our minds”.

I unexpectedly encountered Ed in the hospital before he died a few years ago. He hadn’t changed a bit. Sitting in his chair, draped in a hospital gown, with a wide smile on his face, he declared, “I’m using those words, ‘thank you’, while I’m in here. Every time one of the nurses does something for me I tell them, ‘thank you’. They really appreciate it and it doesn’t cost a cent.” Instantly I knew I would eventually publish this story that Ed then shared with me. Listen as Ed blesses you with this sixty year old memory:

“I took some envelopes to the post office at about four-thirty in the morning so they would get to the depot in time to go out on the morning train. Back then (1940’s) the post office window was open all night. You could go there any time. While I was standing at the window I heard a bunch of baby chicks cheeping. There were fifty baby chicks in a great big box. I asked the fellow where all those chicks came from and he said that someone ordered them but decided they didn’t want them. He was stuck with them so he asked me if I wanted them for the cost of the postage, about two dollars. I thought, ‘Isabella could probably use them.’ She bought chicks and raised them for food.

Ed continued, “Isabella was a black lady who did housecleaning for my wife, Mary, and I. She did cleaning for four or five other families too. Everyone loved Isabella; you couldn’t help but love her. She never said an ill word about anybody. We didn’t look at color we looked at her heart. Every thing was ‘praise the Lord’ with Isabella. She had so much faith. There were times when she didn’t have a bite to eat in the house, but she would still set her table like someone was coming to dinner. Then someone would show up with food.

Getting back to the chickens, I took them home in the car. You have no idea the noise that fifty baby chicks can make. I called Isabella that morning and told her I was coming over with the chicks. She told me, ‘Boy-oh-boy, praise the Lord. I didn’t have any money to buy any chicks and I’ve been praying.’ When I got there she had everything all ready. She had a pen made in the house with newspaper spread on the floor. She had one of those infrared lights for heat. You usually lose some chicks but she raised all fifty of them and didn’t lose a one.”

What faith Isabella had! I don’t know about you but my faith pales in comparison. In the Book of James we are told, “…You do not have because you do not ask God.”(James 4:2) Why don’t we ask? Could it be that we really don’t believe? In the eleventh chapter of the Book of Hebrews we are told, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen…without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.”

Now for the more painful reality; James added, “When you do ask, you do not receive, because you ask with the wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your own pleasures (James 4:3). Selfishness and self-centered requests, Ouch!

I think we sell God short, don’t we? We fail to see Him as the loving, caring Father that He is. But like any wise and compassionate parent, He may not give us everything we ask for, but He will certainly give us everything He knows we need. So in conclusion and contrary to what we’ve always been told, maybe we should “count our chickens before thy hatch.”

“…So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?'…your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:25-34)

Something Just Told Me

This is part two of a two part series about Ronnie, a 45 year old hospice patient with cirrhosis of the liver. In part one, “Living and dying the choices I’ve made”, Ronnie shared about his acquaintance with George Jones, and the words of George Jones’ song, “Choices”, are worth repeating: “I’ve had choices since the day that I was born. There were voices that told me right from wrong. If I had listened, no, I wouldn't be here today; living and dying with the choices I made.”

Ronnie realizes he’s “living and dying with the choices” he’s made. And when I asked Ronnie if it was okay if I wrote about his alcoholism he replied, “It’s alright with me. I don’t care. The truth is the truth.”

George Jones was right, wasn’t he? There are “voices” that tell us right from wrong. And how many times have we regretfully sighed, “If I had listened”? Well, this week I’m writing about a time when Ronnie did listen.

Ronnie and his sisters cared for their mother, Anna Ruth, when she was dying of cancer. Ronnie’s sister Net, recounted: “Mommy was a special person. Everybody who knew her called her ‘Mommy’. She was good to everybody, but she wouldn’t let anyone run over her kids. Her kids were her life. Mommy didn’t want to die alone. She wanted us kids right by her side. So we took turns sleeping with her. And Ronnie took the night watch.” Then Ronnie picked up the story: “I was in the bath room and something just told me to check on mommy, that something was wrong. When I checked on her she’d just died.”

“Something just told me”, but who or what is that “something”? Some people refer to it as a “premonition”, “a sneaking suspicion” or a “hunch”. I’m persuaded that it’s the “still small voice” of God (I Kings 19:12). Whatever we choose to call it, we know it when it speaks. Ronnie, Net and I talked about how we frequently rationalize it away and fail to heed what it is nudging us to do. Net exclaimed, “We just don’t pay attention!”

Henry and Richard Blackaby, in their book, “Hearing Gods Voice”, wrote; “Unbelief can render a person stone deaf to Gods’ voice.” If you don’t believe that God exists, that He is omnipresent, that He is interested in the intimate details of your life, then you may not hear him when He speaks. Allow me to illustrate the point with a story.

Bob and Jim were college roommates, but after college their careers took them down distant paths. Bob became a naturalist and took off for the outdoors. Jim became an investment broker and landed on Wall Street. One day while at a conference in New York City, Bob decided to look up his old friend, Jim. As they were walking down the busy streets of New York City together, Bob said, “Hey, Jim, hold up a minute. I hear a cricket.” Then Jim replied, “There aren’t any crickets on Time Square. And besides, if there was a cricket, there’s no way you could hear it in the middle of all this noise.” Then, to Jim’s amazement, Bob walked over to a large concrete planter, reached in, pulled out a cricket and said, “See I told you.” Jim asked, “How in the world did you hear a cricket in the middle of New York City? And Bob replied, “We all hear what we are listening for. Let me show you.” Then Bob pulled out a hand full of change from his pocket and threw it on the sidewalk. Everyone around heard it hit the pavement and scrambled for it. Then Bob said, “See what I mean.”

Just because we haven’t heard God speaking to us, doesn’t mean He isn’t. In Net’s words, maybe “We just don’t pay attention”. Hopefully the next time we will.

“Behold I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me. (Revelations 3:20); “Today, if you will hear His voice, do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion.” (Hebrews 3:15)

Living & Dying The Choices I've Made

Ronnie was forty-five when admitted to hospice for end stage cirrhosis of the liver. He’s lived with his sister, “Net”, for the past thirteen years. But he does have his “man cave”, a renovated shed behind the main house, to which he retreats. After all, a man does need a little solitude from time to time.

Ronnie is an alcoholic but hasn’t drank for two years. Net stated, “The doctor told him that if he drinks anymore it will kill him…The only time he wasn’t drinking was when he was sleeping…Mom used to buy him beer but I’m sterner than mom. Ronnie took after mom. He’s soft hearted. He would give you the shirt off his back. But he lost his family over drinking.”

Ronnie admitted, “Nobody makes you do anything. You’re the one that does it. Nobody is holding a gun to your head. They aren’t twisting your arm…When I was a kid my dad told me, ‘Son, you made your bed; now you’re going to have to lie in it.’ When I was a kid I didn’t know what he was talking about. I thought, ‘I didn’t even make my bed!’ It took me a long time to figure out what dad was talking about.”

I told Ronnie that his life reminded me of the George Jones song, ‘Choices’: “I’ve had choices since the day that I was born. There were voices that told me right from wrong. If I had listened, no, I wouldn't be here today; living and dying with the choices I made.”

Then Ronnie exclaimed, “I met George Jones! Me and my wife lived in Lakeland, Florida before we broke up and George Jones had a house down there. He always bought his whisky at the liquor store where my wife worked. And our house was just across the road so I saw him all the time. He was just as common as me and you. He drove an old Volkswagen Beetle. He told me he had fancy cars too but he would rather drive the old beetle…He once bought a decanter of whisky that looked like Elvis from the liquor store. That’s where he came up with the words in that song, ‘I drank Elvis to the pelvis’”.

We’ve all had “choices” since the day that we were born. And when we try to escape responsibility by blaming, or with lame excuses, we end up escaping freedom. We become, “whitewashed tombs…full of dead men’s bones” (Matthew 23:26-28). We bury ourselves alive under every shovel full of excuses. And we really know how to shovel it don’t we. After all, it comes natural.

Men and women have been blaming since the “Garden of Eden”. You know the story; the serpent talked Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. Then Eve gave Adam a bite. And suddenly, “Their eyes were opened and they knew they were naked.”(Genesis chapter 3) And when God confronted them how did they respond? Adam blamed, “It was the woman you gave me.” Then Eve blamed, “The serpent tricked me”. Or in the words of “Geraldine”, the old standup comedian, Flip Wilson’s character, “The Devil made me do it!”

We aren’t much different are we? Several years ago my marriage was on the rocks. Or on second thought, maybe I was. I vividly remember sitting at the kitchen table and praying (blaming?), “Lord if only Susie…” Before I finished my sentence, that “still small voice” of God (I Kings 19:12) spoke to me loud and clear, “What are you doing to show her that she is the most important person in the world to you? There’s never any excuse for unholy behavior. You are responsible to me no matter what anybody else does. You just put me first and I will take care of the rest.” That’s been over thirty years and three daughters ago. Thank God for loving me just the way I was, but loving me too much to let me stay that way.

You see, lame excuses don’t fly with God. God can’t and won’t forgive excuses. But the good news (The Gospel) is, He will forgive sins repentantly confessed: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9) So, don’t you think it’s high time to stop blaming and “come clean”?