Little town, BIG picture

O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark street shineth the everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

Listen to the words of this hymn… Can you hear it? Can you see what has happened? No, not the obvious, but the hidden message; the whole picture of Christmas coming to life in just a few words and phrases. Every time I hear this hymn I think of the whole story of Christmas.

I think of Mary, the one that couldn’t possibly be old enough to be having a baby, let alone this child. I think of Gabriel who had to tell Mary the news of the birth and how he may have had the same fear. Gabriel might have thought that hopefully, even though he told her, “You mustn’t be afraid”, she wouldn’t notice how frightened he must have been as he worked through his own doubts about this young lady and her response to his news.

And then my thoughts turn to Joseph. You know him, the earthly father charged with the enormous duty of having to raise a child in a world that would prove not ready for him. That is if Joseph doesn’t leave Mary first. After all, she is pregnant, and Joseph knew he didn’t have anything to do with it! Nevertheless, he stayed by her side at the cradle, not just “till morning was nigh” but for the rest of their lives.

Can’t you hear it all being sung in this hymn? Mary, Gabriel, Joseph; they’re all in there. Even the shepherds can’t be overlooked. It was after all the shepherds whose lives were changed outside of town in a field as they “lay keeping their sheep.”

And yes, if you listen hard enough, you can picture Caesar Augustus himself; mister high and mighty. Not really known for anything, but ruling Rome. But listen closely and you’ll picture Caesar, and the time of his reign where he required everyone to venture to a little obscure town for a census to be taken. And if it hadn’t been for Caesar, there wouldn’t have been a cheap little motel, all booked up for the occasion, with nothing to offer but a small barn with hay for a bed, and maybe a calf to keep company to a pregnant country girl and her faithful husband. All too often we find ourselves in Bethlehem, not for a census, not even searching for the newborn king. We’re just there, simply existing and going through the motions of being a Christian. We find ourselves in one of the rooms of the motel, sleeping quietly, unaware of the miracle taking place right outside of our window.

We hear this hymn and at first glance, we think of the beauty and romance of Christmas, overlooking the characters and their emotions and feelings. But one thing is for sure, when listen closely, we hear the voice of Jesus as he opens his mouth and breathes life for the first time. And in his cries and coos that seem to illumine the darkest street or even the blackest heart, you can hear a soft whisper, “Come…”, “Follow me…” For as we all know, on this side of the cradle, Jesus, the one not worthy of a proper birth, becomes the “Light of the World.” As you focus on his light this Christmas…as you sing this hymn …may you be reminded that all of your hopes and fears, of all your years, are met in thee tonight.

Finding time in the ordinary...

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." ~ Luke 2:8-12

When I was a police officer I had to work the occasional holiday shift. I remember that there were two Christmas Eves in a row that my squad had to work. The first Christmas Eve I remember I worked was midnight shift in 2001. I remember it because of the amount of work I was doing and how I kept telling myself, “It’s Christmas Eve…why aren’t these people spending time at home with family?” There were still arrests being made, numerous calls for service, and a whole lot of report taking being done by all of us who were working the night shift. That Christmas Eve soon turned into Christmas Day and I can recall thinking of how quickly time seemed to pass by. Where did Christmas Eve go? When did Christmas Eve pass me and the other officers? Why couldn’t we spend time with our family?

The next year, my squad had to work the Christmas Eve midnight shift again. Except this year, I was determined not to allow Christmas Eve to pass by. The night started and the police radio began to buzz. Officers were constantly responding to fights, to family disturbances, to alarm calls, and to traffic collisions, and I thought for a moment, “Here we go again.” Some time during the night our supervisor began collecting paperwork in the mall parking lot and a small gathering of officers began to form in front of Sears. One after another, officers began arriving and bearing their gifts of traffic reports, citations, and arrest forms. Before long the whole squad had gathered and conversation and laughter ensued. I noticed that the police radio had grown silent so I returned to my patrol car and retrieved my Bible. I asked one officer who was gathered in our circle to tell me about his Christmas growing up. This led to others telling about how they “did” Christmas with their families and how they could remember being a child on Christmas Eve. I remember seeing the faces of police officers light up as each one told of their Christmas traditions.

After our personal stories I told them I would like to share a Christmas story about someone else with them. I opened my Bible to Luke and read of how Jesus was born to Mary and Joseph. After I read the story, one of the officers said a prayer for our families and our safety. At the sound of the Amen, the police radio sounded once more sending me and another officer to a domestic dispute. The other officers drove away and the ordinary began again.

We were police officers with the charge of protecting and serving. We were maintaining the ordinary. But that night, while offering peace, like the shepherds, we found peace. While providing hope, we found hope for ourselves. We found love among friends and realized we were getting to spend Christmas Eve with our family after all. That Christmas Eve we found time for each other, but most importantly, we found time for God in the ordinary.

This Advent and Christmas Season, may you find the love of family, the peace of the season, and the grace and joy of God. I urge you to take a moment and find time in the ordinary.

Simply thankful...

While pondering over what Thanksgiving means to me and trying to come up with a decent article to write on the holiday, I decided to skip the quest for large and colorful expressions that would dazzle and amaze the reader’s eye. Instead, I went the simple route. For the simple route lends itself to be more candid in offering a glimpse into one’s life. So with that said, here are a few of the things that I’m thankful for:

- God, of course. God makes all the rest possible.
- My family and the many quirks that each of us have.
- My church, not necessarily the structure, but the people that make up the building.
- My home and the wonderful way it welcomes me. Dorothy was right, “There’s no place like home.”
- My friends who support me even when I know I’ve not been the best of one.
- Laughter and its ability to cause me to forget burdens and heartache.
- Sadness…without it, I would lose sight. With it, I know who to turn to.
- Education and its mission to make me aware that there’s so much more to learn.
- Silence and reflection and all that it can encompass. “Be still and now that I am the LORD your God.”
- I Love You…three little words that when said at the right time, can make the world stop in its tracks.
- Food…enough said!
- The youth of my church who, in their own ways, never let me forget that they love me, even when I’m not in the best of moods.
- Diet Dr. Pepper
- Coffee, with a little cream and two packets of Splenda, and its capability to get me going.
- My son’s giggle from his hiding place behind the chair in the living room when I return home of an evening. It gives him away every time.
- My wife and everything about her.
- Memories, both good and not so good. They tend to make me a stronger person.
- Christmas, from one end to the other.
- Second chances. They allow you to improve upon the mess you’ve made, even when you think you’ve ruined some of the things you’re thankful for.
- Life as whole, and the experiences and people I meet along the way.

Just the other day...

Just the other day, I witnessed a school bus accident in my hometown. A Head Start bus, packed to the brim with little preschool children, was sideswiped by another car causing it to veer into oncoming traffic. As the driver of the bus swerved to avoid a head on collision, she jerked the vehicle into another lane, causing a car to hit the bus in the side. This resulted in the massive bus rolling over a couple of times.

Immediately, onlookers formed, witnesses gathered, “rubber-neckers” slowed to a crawl, inpatient drivers honked, good Samaritans performed, and chaos ensued. As I got out of my car to assist the school bus driver, it dawned on me that this could have been my child. As I pulled children to safety, and told them to find a friend and hold their hand, I could hear the sounds of emergency vehicles quickly approaching. Once they arrived I stood back and watched as firemen and policemen, some of whom might have possibly been the headliners at these children’s school during their safety talks and fire truck tours, care for these kids as if they were their own.

As parents arrived, the shock of the wreck wore off and the children began to cry out for mommy and daddy. The screams of so many little children could be heard over the hustle and bustle of approaching ambulances, police and fire radios, and the busyness of the city. And for a brief moment I thought, imagine what it must have been like for God. I can only imagine what he must have been thinking when he heard his son cry out to him in pain. There is Jesus, among a crowd of onlookers, witnesses, and the occasional “rubber-necker”, among so much chaos, dying on a cross. Yet, “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son…”

A night at the races...

Tonight I saw something that amazed me. I attended a middle school track meet this evening to watch a girl, who I'll refer to as "Katie", run in a District Championship tournament. She had originally thought that she would not be able to run and had expressed for me not to bother with coming to see her. But I'm glad I went.

As the meet began, I saw Katie sitting across the field. She had been labeled as an alternate. In her mind she had been labeled as insufficient and incapable of competing in the events. Essentially, she felt unwanted. As the evening progressed, Katie sat watching each separate event start and finish without her being able to contribute. She cheered for her teammates and yelled when each girl from her team crossed the finish line. Whether they won their race or not, Katie still cheered as if they had won an Olympic Gold Medal. She slowly progressed from an "I just lost my best friend" look to a "team player" look.

The meet was coming to a close when I saw Katie making her way to another part of the track. Could it be? Could she be lining up to race? She was indeed. As she made her way onto the track for a baton relay, I could see that she looked a little different from the start of the meet. She didn't even have the "team player" face. At first, I thought it was nervousness. After all this was not a race that she was familiar with running. It wasn't until the race began and she took the baton that I realized what I saw on her face. It wasn't nervousness or anxiety. What I saw was a most amazing thing. I saw perseverance. As she ran, perseverance took control of her body and led her around the track. Her family and teammates were cheering and all I could do was watch in amazement.

Perseverance is what the writer of Hebrews was describing in chapter 12 when he said to run the race that was marked out. It was this type of perseverance that I witnessed on the face of a 13 year old girl who, when cheered on by such a great cloud of witnesses, finished a race that was unfamiliar to her.

I think the writer of Hebrews truly meant that no matter how uncomfortable we are, or how unfamiliar our surroundings may be, listen to the crowds. If we listen we can hear those who have kept the faith and who, through their faith, cheer us on today. So I'll take my lead from Katie, the "unwanted" alternate, and from the writer of Hebrews. Run with perseverance, never looking back, staying focused on what lies ahead. I can only imagine what a glorious feeling I'll have when I finally reach the finish line.

By the way, Katie's school won first place in the Division.

Our front porch was where it was at...

"Blogging" is all too new for me. I'm not sure of what to talk about, and not really sure that when I find out what to write, that I want anyone reading it. But I guess for now, I'll fill the first page with what I remember about my front porch.

I grew up in a rural neighborhood about 10 miles outside of Fayetteville, N.C. It was a great neighborhood. The kind of place where kids could play until dark and one need not worry if the doors were locked or windows were secured. Our house was located on the back street in the neighborhood which lent itself to a great view of the whole area. It was a ranch style home with cedar siding, but the best part about it was its front porch which stretched across the entire front.

Located on the porch was Mom's hanging baskets and potted plants. She even had a deacon's bench, but I don't recall any deacons, or anyone else for that matter, ever sitting on it. There were also several rocking chairs and a great old fashioned porch swing. My father had swiped a set of hood springs from an old wrecked '57 Chevy and affixed them to the eye bolts which held the swing to the porch ceiling. This caused the swing to have an extra bounce or two.

It seemed like our family lived on the front porch. Quite often we would gather on the porch after supper to talk and to wave at the cars as they passed by. Dad and I would even go out on the porch in the winter. We would raid the linen closet and wrap up with every blanket. Then we would venture out to the rocking chairs and sit. Our family decorated the porch for every season, whether it be strand after strand of Christmas lights or several pumpkins and a hay bale or two. My favorite times were when it would rain in the evening. Dad, and sometimes mom, and I would make our way to the porch to sit and listen to the rain. This would usually lend itself to a nap.

But it was more than naps, or porch swings, or even waving at the neighbors. The front porch was where I learned to listen, learned to counsel, and essentially, learned how to be a father. I often reflect on my family's front porch conversations, but I often look back to those times that my Dad and I sat, listened to the rain, and shared our lives with each other. It was in those times I felt most connected with my father. After Mom died in 2001, Dad and I returned to the porch one rainy evening. There, we remembered Mom as we cried and laughed. It was as if the front porch consoled us in our grief. I'll never forget that evening.

Yes, our front porch was great because of its size and furniture, and even its vegetation. But moreover, our front porch was special because of the way it nurtured a family through good times and bad.

I miss our old porch, especially now that my new house has sort of a stoop. Just enough to get a strand of Christmas lights around the door or maybe one pumpkin on the front step. No swing with hood springs either, but it does have a rocking chair. Well, I hear the rain, I think I'll go get a small blanket for my son...we're heading to the porch.