Christmas is over

And what a fine Christmas it was (and still is, if you count lingering leftovers)! Here's my final word on really feeling the spirit of Christmas and experiencing it's joy.

It was Christmas Eve and we were ready. The only reason that we had gone to the Shopping Center was to grab lunch and pick up one more item for Christmas Dinner. The guy parked across the aisle from us was obviously not done, however; he was kneeling down beside his car, struggling to wrap a large package there on the pavement. He had his newly purchased adhesive tape, his newly purchased wrapping paper and his newly purchased gift, but kneeling on a parking lot is not the most suitable wrapping area, and he was struggling. Really struggling.

Just as I asked Mom "Where is the camera when you need it?" he disgustedly picked up the partially-wrapped package, threw it into his car, jumped in and and squealed his tires all the way to the exit!

I hope your Christmas was merrier.

The Visit

The anxiety that had gripped him – all but consumed him – since he had received his instructions held him motionless before the small village. “This can’t be right,” he thought. “This backwater village in this backwater region can’t be the place.” He almost thought, “There must be a mistake,” before he caught himself. No, there was no mistake, but that didn’t ease the sense of despair, the dread that had overwhelmed him since he had been sent on this mission.

He thought back to his summons before the Throne. There, before the Most High and a small group of angels, the Word had told him that He was going to leave heaven and go to Earth as a human, to become the King of the wayward and rebellious people and turn them back to the Father. He thought at that moment the heavens would fracture and they would all fall into the abyss, but that was just the beginning. The Word went on to explain how He was going to become human, and who His earthly mother would be and that he, Gabriel, in his role as messenger was to go and prepare her. He had already carried out a similar mission six months ago by appearing to Zechariah, the priest and foretelling the birth of a son. He chuckled a bit at having left Zechariah speechless. But that was different; Elizabeth was just old and childless. This… this was something altogether different.

Now Gabriel stood in the dark on the road before the little village of Nazareth, a collection of mud houses nestled on a hillside in Galilee, one of many such villages, none notable. Some of the houses seemed piled on top of others against the hill, mud roof of one becoming the courtyard of another. Some were white-washed; most were not. At the end of the street a few awnings stretched across poles marked where the vendors made a market each day. The market was empty now, as were the streets. All of Nazareth was indoors.

Gabriel strode quickly to the house. Pausing before the door, he tried to muster as much angelic aura as he could, but aura – and almost everything else – had been sucked out of him. He pushed the heavy curtain aside and stepped into the room. She was alone, as he knew she would be. She was startled at his abrupt entrance, but not as much as Gabriel was. “A child!” he thought. “She’s just a child.” He knew the way of the humans – the betrothals at a very early age, the arranged weddings – but to actually see her just confirmed all the dread he felt. “What was He thinking? This skinny girl cannot be the mother of the King of Israel!”

Pushing aside his misgivings, Gabriel set to his task and exclaimed in his most angelic voice, “Greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.” He was chagrined at the weak and trembling way the proclamation actually came out. He cleared his throat.

Mary stared at Gabriel in shock. She was startled, but there was nothing to be afraid of in Nazareth. Certainly there was nothing threatening about this man, stranger though he was. What troubled her was his greeting. Mary was a non-person in Nazareth; hardly anyone ever spoke to her at all, least of all strangers, and this was certainly not what a stranger said to you – not even a stranger who burst into your house unannounced. This wasn’t even a greeting that the Rabbi would make – not that the Rabbi ever spoke to her – but this… this greeting made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Gabriel, aware that he had startled Mary, quickly said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God.”

Now Mary was afraid. First, this stranger knew her name. The neighbors didn’t even know her name. Then he said he knew something about her that she didn’t know – and what he knew came from God. Deep down, the first tiny spark of knowledge of who this stranger was and what was happening snapped into being. Yes, now Mary was very afraid.

“You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”

Mary heard the words but they didn’t make sense. Then she began to process them, first the part about having a son, then the part about her son being given the throne of David. The little spark was burning white-hot now. Then she went back to the beginning – the part about being with child. Yes, she was engaged to Joseph, and they would marry soon, but something told her this was not what was meant. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then raised them to Gabriel and said, “How can this be? I... I’ve never been with a man.”

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. That’s why the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.”

Gabriel saw the flash of terror pass through Mary like a lightning bolt. She turned her head away, but Gabriel had seen her eyes wide with alarm. “It’s too much for this child,” he thought. “She can’t handle this.” He sought some way to comfort her. He said gently, “Your cousin Elizabeth is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. Nothing is impossible with God.”

Mary looked at the angel, for she knew full well now that this stranger was from God. Her heart pounded as if it would leave her body. Her mind raced from one thought to another. God has chosen me… What will Joseph say…? It’s not possible… Nothing is impossible with God… What will mother say…? The Messiah – at last…! This can’t be happening to me… Me! God has chosen me…! Why me…? What will father say…? There’s an angel standing in my house… What will the neighbors say…? What of the shame…! Mother of the Messiah…! What will Joseph’s family say…? What…?

Gabriel was stunned. He felt the emotional turmoil, sensed the burning questions as they caromed through her consciousness. He was certain she was going to bolt into the street and he positioned himself squarely before the door to stop her flight when it came. The whole future of creation hung on the answer from this child and he was powerless as to its outcome.

Slowly, the Spirit calmed her mind, softened the trip hammer of her heart, and brought stillness to her thoughts. She looked at Gabriel a long time, then bowed her head and said. “May it be to me as you have said.”

Gabriel blinked once or twice, trying to decide what to do next, but there was no next. His work was done. There was nothing more to say, so he just turned and stepped back into the street. He paused in the dark passage, thinking about what had just happened. He had delivered a preposterous message to a totally improbable girl and she had received it in stride – and was prepared to act on it. Smiling to himself, he set off to find Joseph.

That's what I'm talking about!

Today I refer you to WaiterRant - a quirky blog we've followed for a while, written by a waiter in a high-dollar bistro in New York (be aware that it's not on the list of church of Christ blogs). Waiter pulls off what I have only wanted to. Here's how he starts:

"Its 4:30 and I get sat my first customers of the day – a young couple with a screaming, kicking, red faced, snot dripping three year old boy. I take a deep calming breath, flick on my waiter smile, and head over to the table. The parents, embarrassed by their offspring’s behavior, watch my approach with a mixture of apology and fear. The little boy, as all children do, is screaming about getting something he wants when he wants it. As the child’s delivering his full throated spittle laden ultimatum, a little bubble of mucous elongates out of his nose and pops. The resultant effluence drips down his chin.

Arriving at the table I don’t say anything to the parents - I focus all my towering attention on the little boy. As I stare into his big watery eyes he instantly falls silent. The parents are amazed.

“Who is this man?” I ask the little boy, pointing to the bearded caricature painted on my tacky Christmas tie.

“Santa,” the child blurts.

“And what does Santa do?”

“Brings toys.”

“That’s right,” I say, winking at the mother, who at this point, wants to leave her husband and shack up with me. “You know that Santa only brings toys to good children don’t you? Have you been a good boy this year?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been a good boy? No crying and yelling?”

“Yes,” the child lies, wiping his nose with a crusty shirtsleeve.

“So you’re going to be nice and quiet while I talk to your Mommy and Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like chocolate milk?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re good and Mommy says it’s okay I’ll bring you some. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

I look at the mother. Hopefully this kid’s not Jewish and lactose intolerant.

“That would be great,” the mother says, hero worship shining in her blue eyes.

“Okay then,” I say. “When I finish talking to Mommy and Daddy I’ll bring you some chocolate milk.”

“Okay,” the boy says.

“Carson,” the mother coos, “What do you say to the nice man?”

“Thank you,” the boy says automatically.

“You’re welcome, sir,” I reply."

Here's the rest of the story.

Promised Picture

Thanks to my sister, here are most of the cousins (that's Taylor in my hat, by the way).

Cousin's Christmas

Today we trekked up to Fort Worth for the annual Cousin's Christmas. That's the current form of my family's Christmas gathering - an evolution from the immediate family gathered at Mom and Pop's in Breckenridge, then in later years as we outgrew that little house, Christmas at the Lake Cabin. Then, when Mom and Pops moved to Fort Worth, it made more sense to gather there, and so we do. My brother had the good idea to invite the cousins of the clan; certainly those that live in the area, so it has become the Cousin's Christmas.

Like most family get-togethers, this one centers on food and fellowship. There's a modest effort at bringing ohhh! and ahhh! dishes; then there's the fun of meeting the new babies and the new fiancés, seeing the nieces and nephews growing up and growing hair, hearing about the new job (or the new retirement) and just being with your own kin. After we stuff ourselves silly, we play a version of the White Elephant gift exchange. There's a theme to the gifts (though some themes don't work as well as others) and we enjoy the creativity of the gift-givers, and often the gift-getters. Remember, there's a box of watch band calenders out there somewhere (Barbara thinks we ought to write them into our will just to be sure).

There's only one problem with the Cousin's Christmas. It costs 7 hours in the car to enjoy. I know, I know, we could break that trip up by staying over. Someday. Today was a real adventure because coming home the wind was gusting to 30 mph and it was pushing the Highlander all over the road. I felt for the truckers and people in little bitty cars!

I'll post some pictures if some of my relatives will e-mail me some (hint hint). We didn't think to take the camera, so I guess I'm still learning the blogging business. Watch this space.

Santa Hat Adventures

It was cold and drizzly today, so I wore my Santa Hat when I went to read. I got the expected comments, "Nice Hat!", "Hello, Santa", "Ho, ho ho", etc. That's nice.

The weather was even more miserable when it was time to go to Chuy's for supper, so I stuck the hat back on and wore it into the restaurant. Saw lots of smiles and got lots of looks, so I achieved the desired effect as we passed through the place to get to our table. Just got seated, and heard,

"Hello, Santa!"

from a wide-eyed little girl who looked to be about four. A believing, wide eyed little girl!

Uh Oh.

I hadn't considered running into small children when I plopped the hat on my head. Believing, wide-eyed small children. I may wear the hat, and project the image, but I'm really not ready to be Santa.

I turned to the little girl and said hello, saying fervently to myself, "Please, please, little girl. Don't hop out of your chair and come over here! I'm not really Santa, little girl. I'm not even a good helper, Okay?"

She didn't get up, but she continued to stare wide-eyed. So I did the only thing I could do. I took off the hat.

Okay. I chickened out. But you are not supposed to wear hats indoors, and the hat was hot, and... I chickened out.

Obviously, I'm going to have to give this looking like Santa some more thought.

Retired in Full

Back in March, I "retired" as a full time employee and became a part-time contractor - which meant I was also a part-time retiree. I mentioned then that I thought that available work in my specialty was going the way of the Dodos, and that by the end of the year it would dry up altogether. Hey, I'm pretty good at this forecasting stuff; here it is December and I'm pretty much done (there's a possibility of some work for a new customer, but I give it only about a 20% chance of actually happening).

So. If I'm no longer getting paid for contracting, I'm going to have to turn to the retirement account and actually start drawing from the funds I have been stashing away all this time. That's scary to me. I've read all the literature and know the prevailing wisdom about taking only 4 or 5 percent of the funds and that theoretically allows it to continue growing and we don't come knocking on our children's doors in 10 years. Did I just sense a sharpened interest in this blog?

But there's just something about actually saying, "Okay, let's start taking money out..." when all your life (well, at least the latter years) you have been diligently trying to put money in.

We had the meeting yesterday. Neile, Keeper of All Things Financial, assured us that it should be at least 12 years before we come knocking at the door, and maybe even longer if we actually enjoy dog food, so I guess it was a good meeting. And now I am retired in full.

My next blog will be about all the new and exciting things my wife has planned for me. Most of them occurring away from the house, interestingly enough.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

It’s becoming pretty obvious. I catch more and more small children looking at me with a great deal of interest these days. I think it’s the beard and the belly. You know, like the waitress at the café in Salado who said, “Hon, with your beard and your belly you can play Santa Claus!” I won’t tell you what I told her about her tip! But she’s right. Every time we are out somewhere, I catch some wide-eyed child really checking me out.

Even Grace. Mom was reading her a Christmas book when were up there and the last page had a picture of the jolly gent himself. Grace looked at the picture, then she looked up at me; she looked back at the picture and then she pointed at me!

I have even begun going “Ho, Ho, Ho” to some of the kids. Sometimes I want to say “I’m keeping a list – and you’re on it!” The other day in Central Market a kid was really acting up – so much so that other store patrons around him were commenting about his behavior. I really wanted to go up to the kid, point at my beard and say, “Do you know who I am? Do you know that I check up on naughty children?” But judging from the mom’s yuppie attire (and lack of restraint of her bratty kid) she probably would have sued me for perpetuating a myth and traumatizing her little dear.

The other day a friend called and asked me if I wanted a gig playing Santa at a bank opening – two six-hour Saturdays dandling kiddos in a hot Santa suit. I was so sorry that we were going to be in Fort Worth one Saturday and anywhere else I could think of the next.

P.S. Mom just came in from shopping with... a Santa Hat for me. Anybody got a red suit?