A Great Light

A Great Light

I live in a subdivision at the base of the Bridger Mountains in Montana. Originally a working ranch, this property was home to cattle and abundant wildlife. The developers, wanting to keep a rural atmosphere, chose not to install street lights. After the sun sets, it gets really dark except for dots of light from homes and the heavenly display of stars that light up the night.

A long time ago, a man by the name of Isaiah spoke these words to a world wrapped in a different kind of darkness: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who lived in a land of deep shadows-light!” This Old Testament prophet spoke about the darkness of hopelessness, fear and oppression.

Generations later, a man born in Bethlehem spoke these words: “I am the world’s Light. No one who follows me stumbles around in the darkness. I provide plenty of light to live in…For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light. I am the world’s Light.”

Good news is hard to come by these days. There is a darkness that wants to prevail in the land of the living. Day after day news of disaster, moral failure, betrayal of trust and yes even death threatens to extinguish the light of hope and Life. Where can one turn to bask in the warmth of light?

That Old Testament voice continues to speak to us down through time breaking the stronghold of darkness. “For a child has been born for us! The gift of a son for us! He’ll take over the running of the world. His name will be Amazing Counselor, Strong God, Eternal Father, Prince of Wholeness. His ruling authority will grow and there’ll be no limits to the wholeness he brings.”

As a child in Sunday school, we sang This Little Light of Mine. The closing verse says it all: “Out in the dark I’m going to let it shine. Oh, out in the dark I’m going to let it shine. Hallelujah! Out in the dark I’m going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

SHINE JESUS SHINE!

O Tannenbaum

O Tannenbaum

By my reckoning I have lived long enough to see seventy-three Christmas trees all decked out with lights, ornaments and lots of presents under their boughs. That’s a lot of Christmas trees, so many that all but the most recent are but a blur of colors, smells and memories. Is there anything more magical than a Christmas tree?

This past week the grandkids came over to help decorate our tree. Judy and I watched their excitement as box after box of lights and ornaments were opened. Many of the ornaments were the same ones that their dad, aunt and uncle hung on past Christmas trees. Hopefully, long after we are gone, they will share some of these same memories with their children.

Another family tradition is cutting down our own tree. Purchasing a permit from the forest service allows us to bring home the perfect Charlie Brown tree. In the past, we have bought precut trees from a lot and even invested in a plastic tree but the best is one right out of the mountain forest. The pine smell and pitch sticking to our hands makes for a real Christmas tree.

I would be remiss without making reference to the German folk song that heralds the beauty of the Christmas tree. As a child, I heard my father sing in German:

“O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum…. O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree how lovely are your branches not only green when summer’s here but in the coldest time of year. How sturdy God has made thee! You biddest us all place faithfully our trust in God, unchangingly O Christmas Tree.”

May your Christmas tree bring you happiness this Holiday Season and many memories for the future!

Tom and Jerry

Tom and Jerry

Growing up in a large family, the weeks leading up to Christmas were a combination of controlled chaos and spiraling anticipation. Trying to be spiritual with Advent Wreath devotions all the while counting the days before we could open our presents made us somewhat schizophrenic.

For years my parents hosted a Tom and Jerry Christmas party. Friends and family were invited to help usher in the season by gathering to sip and share this Christmas cheer. I don’t know how it all started but I do remember lots of people flocking to our home each year to partake of food and drink.

The Tom and Jerry drink is an acquired taste. My dad had this secret recipe that involved concentrated preparation and left the kitchen a mess. This hot drink was a concoction of egg nog, whipped egg whites, brandy, rum, assorted spice and hot water served in a mug. The sign of a good Tom and Jerry was that it left a foamy mustache on your upper lip. Moderation was the key to making it home safe.

For those of less exotic taste there was Silver Satin punch. This is a sweet, inexpensive white wine served in a large punch bowl filled with ice. Because it is pleasant tasting and seems innocent enough, it can be dangerous to the thirsty. More than one child at the party got buzzed thinking it was kid’s punch.

Sharing this family tradition stirs up all kinds of memories. How my dad loved to be the chef and bartender while my mother, dressed immaculately in a red satin dress, wondered who all these people were and who was going to clean up the mess. Singing Christmas carols slightly out of tune and hearing stories of Christmas past were the potpourri of our holiday season.

After my father’s passing, my brother endeavored to carry on the Tom and Jerry Christmas party. Those attending were siblings, in-laws and grandchildren; all former attendees had passed on. Now it is all a memory of Christmas past.

I’m going looking for a bar that serves this holiday nectar and see if it gives me a white mustache.

Photos

Photos

There it sits in our TV room. An old wooden tool chest that masquerades as a coffee table and often used footstool. We bought it at a garage sale years ago thinking it would make an attractive storage bin of some kind. The wood is marred and stained but it has a unique character about it. All but forgotten it, it hides a treasure hold of memories.

While rearranging the room, we opened the old chest to discover hundreds and hundreds of glossy 3x5, 6x4, enlarged school photos, 35m colored slides, and other assorted mementos of ages past. There it was, a menagerie of family history piled in disarray in that old wood chest.

I confess that I have neither time or patience to even begin to sort through all those photos. Judy took on the challenge. She purchased plastic containers and began the process of sorting through photos of each of our children and other significant family events. While watching the QVC and reruns of old Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel, she started making sense of our pictorial family history.

I confess that several times I started digging through the pile only to get lost in the memories that they evoked. I was amazed at how young we looked back then. Seeing our kids as kids brought tears to my eyes. Remembering people and places long forgotten reminded me that we have lived a very rich life. Flipping from photo to photo, I felt drawn into times long gone.

We don’t take photos that way anymore. Now with a click on my smartphone I can instantaneously record family history. For some reason, it’s not the same. Yea, I know you can somehow download those pics and mysteriously send them in cyberspace and within a twinkling of an eye have them reappear in your mailbox as 4x6 glossies (in triplicate) or even made into a memory book. But who has the time or the tech savvy to do that on a consistent basis.

If I could find that old camera that captured all those family memories, I would trade my smartphone for it in a minute. But that’s not going to happen. I wonder how our kids are going to remember us. I guess I will have to stipulate in my Will that they will have to share my phone so they can view all 10,000 pixels!