Growing up in a big family we had one black-and-white TV, and limited space on the couch. If you got up to go to the bathroom you had to yell, “Seat back!” or when you returned you would find a brother or sister sitting comfortably in your coveted spot. It was our way of laying claim to our place in the family.
“How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. You can never go home again.” (James Agee; “A Death in the Family”)
It is an adage that rings true over an over again. As soon as we cross the childhood threshold in search of our own life, we are forever changed. Our childhood home changes in our absence, and can never be reclaimed.
I recently enjoyed an overnight visit with my parents who still live on the family farm in Kentucky. Amid the discussion of kids, good books, and politics, I felt the usual nagging regret that the choices I made have led me far away from my parents. I mean that in a geographical sense not an emotional one, but sometimes one follows the other.
My parents and I have managed to stay quite close emotionally over the years and across many miles of road and sky, but I can’t help but feel a sense of loss when I let my mind wonder about what might have been - If only I lived closer… Interestingly enough, only two of my parents’ ten children still live nearby. The rest, like me, charted courses and made decisions that took us to far-away (and sometimes strange) places.
What made us all seek new horizons? For starters, we all got luggage as a graduation present. It was their way of nudging, or pushing, us out of the nest. The luggage symbolized our independence and encouraged us to seek new horizons. When I returned home after a lengthy stay in South America, my parents treated me differently. I was no longer a child, and although many unspoken expectations remained in place, a sense of freedom and independence was also prevalent. I could never go home again. It was time to make a home of my own, and I had been empowered and encouraged to do so.
I move forward in life not because I am fleeing from my past and all that it represents, but because I am grounded in it and all its good teachings. I don’t seek new horizons because old horizons have grown stale, but because they have motivated me onward in their grace and beauty. My parents taught me that life is a journey, not a destination. My journey has been good, and I don’t wish to hasten down the highway because the scenery wasn’t good behind me, but because it was so good that it made me anticipate the journey ahead with greater desire.
We are a family of strong-willed individuals, who, happily and surprisingly, have managed to stay close across the miles. Maybe you can’t go home again, but you don’t have to be a stranger to your family either. Just yell, “Seat back!” on your way out the door to save your spot.
Well it’s that time of year again - time for New Year’s resolutions. You resolve to do or become something during the upcoming year. I like goals. They keep your life focused. They give purpose to otherwise empty days or moments. They give you a sense of accomplishment when you actually reach the goal you set. Goals are good… most of the time.
This past year I set several goals, and I even achieved some of them. I distinctly remember looking at my goals for 2009 after writing them down and realizing they looked similar to my goals for 2008, 2007, and several years in a row. I was setting similar goals every year. They were more like “to-do” lists than goals.
This year, some opportunities came along that I never anticipated or even dreamed about. I didn’t feel so bound by my written resolutions that I couldn’t pursue new opportunities. I marched off in new directions, and I am happier because of it.
As I thought about that experience, it made me wonder, “Does God set goals?” I think He does.
I think He has a purpose for all of His creations and therefore He sets “goals” to help those creations. If He sets the planets in motion and creates galaxies full of life and splendor, then He has purpose and knows what He hopes to accomplish. If a sparrow cannot fall without His knowledge, surely He has a plan for our lives both individually and collectively. If He commands us to be “perfect”, then He will provide a roadmap and a means of measuring the fulfillment of the stated objective. I think God is a goal setter.
Not only do I think God is a goal setter, but I also think He wants us to have worthy goals of our own. He wants us to be happy, and He knows that we cannot be happy by seeking only pleasure or by standing still. We must take the resources we have, and with our talents, skills, and sheer effort create “galaxies” of our own.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping we are becoming.”
I have felt the hand of the God I worship gently and lovingly nudge me as I strive to become, and to achieve, and I am happier because of it.
Merry Christmas!
Here's another failed attempt to win a short story contest, but I enjoyed the story and think you will also. Comments and criticisms are welcome. Have a very Merry Christmas!
“Look Dad! It’s Santa!” said my four-year old daughter Rylee in a hushed tone of surprise and reverence. I looked up from serving soup in the homeless shelter and saw an old man with a bushy white beard holding a soup bowl. Santa was in a homeless shelter!
I smiled and poured him a large scoop of hot soup. “Did anybody ever tell that you look exactly like…”
“…Santa Claus? Yes, because I am Santa Claus,” he said finishing my sentence for me. His face was blank. No jolly laugh. No twinkling eyes. No ho, ho, ho.
I glanced down at my daughter and saw a look of concern come over her face. “Don’t worry. He’s not the real Santa. The real Santa lives at the North Pole and is a jolly old elf,” I said trying to comfort her.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” he replied with a deadpan look as he took his soup and moved on. I continued to serve soup to the others, but couldn’t take my eyes or mind off of the Santa look-alike as he sat and somberly ate his soup. When I finished serving, I sought him out.
“Feel better after the soup?” I asked.
“Like a bowl full of jelly,” he replied evenly without smiling.
“You know, I am sorry that life has been hard to you, but you didn’t have to burst my little girl’s bubble. She still believes in Santa Claus.”
“Well, I am Santa Claus.”
I chuckled. “I know you look like Santa, but…”
“…Santa Claus is just a fictional character to bring magic to Christmas,” he said mockingly. “You see, you don’t even believe in me, and yet you lecture me on not bursting your little girl’s bubble.”
My face flushed with a touch of anger and shame.
“Most people don’t believe anything they can’t see or touch anymore. How can you believe in the miraculous birth of the Son of God when you can’t even believe in Santa Claus even though he’s sitting right in front of you?” he asked earnestly.
“I guess you’ve got a point,” I mumbled as I stood to go. “Merry Christmas,” I said sheepishly as I walked away.
Over the next few days the conversation with the homeless Santa troubled me. What should I do? How could I help? He was right, I didn’t believe in Santa, but I did believe in helping my neighbor. So when my boss asked for Christmas party suggestions, I got an idea!
I told everyone at my office about my encounter with homeless Santa and asked if we could sponsor him. We could take up a collection to buy him new clothes, and a few Christmas presents, and he could come play “Santa” at our company party. Everyone loved the idea!
I spoke with the director of the homeless shelter and made all the arrangements. Everyone contributed generously and the company matched our efforts. We got him new clothes, shoes and a winter coat. We found a small private shelter and paid for three months rent. We bought a month’s worth of food and stocked his shelves. We were all excited about helping him as the day of the Christmas party arrived.
It was a wonderful night! Homeless Santa came dressed for the part with the traditional red suit, black boots, and bag full of toys. He was the life of the party as he gladdened hearts with his rosy cheeks and his hearty “Ho, Ho, Ho!” He had a magical touch with children, and my daughter Rylee beamed as she sat on his lap. By the end of the night, we all believed in Santa Claus.
As the party finished and we gave him our gifts, he cried openly at our generosity. We joined him, but they were tears of joy. Everyone called it the best Christmas party ever!
That Christmas Eve, Rylee and I put out milk and cookies for Santa and waited together by the fire in my big leather chair. Of course, we both fell asleep long before the clock struck midnight, and missed our chance to see Santa. But the next morning the cookies and milk had been replaced with a note –
“Inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.”
Santa Claus
(P.S. I moved back to the North Pole.)
© 2009, Brock Booher, All rights reserved
I had an Air Force buddy that had an interesting arrangement with his wife. At Christmas time he would buy a present for himself and give it to her, and she would buy a present for herself and give it to him. One Christmas she got a shotgun and he got a sewing machine, and they were both very happy. I have always considered that an ingenious technique to keep you out of the gift-giving doghouse.
Since you are all probably reading this blog in between shopping online, or while you take a break from wrapping presents, I know you will appreciate my lists of gifts not to get your spouse.
A new lawnmower (even the riding type)
A new dishwasher (unless it comes with a lifetime commitment to do the dishes)
Any device for removing body hair
Exercise equipment (unless they ask for it more than five times)
P90X DVD’s (unless they ask for them more than ten times)
A book for your wife titled “Confessions of an Organized Housewife”
A book on anger management
A book titled “Become the Husband Your Wife Always Wanted”
Any apparatus used for cleaning up after others
An iron or ironing board (see note about dishwasher)
Any massage paraphernalia that they will be required to use on you
A wig or toupee
Any “regifted” gift that you received from your spouse
Gift certificates from Hooters
A one-way ticket
Any gift with the wrong name on it
Often gifts like these are loaded with subtle (or not so subtle) subliminal messages, and when the receiver of such gifts decodes the message, you may be in for some marital trouble. Feel free to add to the list and help keep us all out of the gift-giving doghouse!
I recently wrote a short story for a contest, but then realized that it wasn't what they were looking for. I enjoyed writing the story anyway, so here you go...
Dan methodically entered the subway car and settled in for the thirty minute ride home almost oblivious to the passengers around him. He loosened his tie and began catching up on a few emails on his mobile device as the train lurched ahead. As he read the email titled “Holiday Observance Policies”, his jaw tightened, his temperature rose, and he felt a strong surge of indignation.
The email contained the usual legalese that cautioned employees to replace phrases like “Merry Christmas” with “Happy Holidays”, or “Christmas Tree” with “Holiday Tree”. He wanted to scream! Who are the idiots that come up with this nonsense? Why do we have to walk on eggshells when it comes to a declared national holiday? It is Christmas, and I should be able to say Merry Christmas to anybody I like! Great, he thought to himself, it’s not even mid November and I’ve already lost the Christmas spirit. He bowed his head and said a silent prayer.
As he raised his head he looked around at the other passengers as if really seeing them for the first time. The diversity of his fellow subway passengers reflected the diverse city it traveled through. He noticed a Jewish man, and a Muslim woman, and even though not all passengers displayed their faith openly, he was sure that various religions were represented in that small subway car as it hurried along the tracks.
The words “Love thy neighbor” echoed in his head melting any remaining anger. Instead of resentment for his “different” neighbors, he felt a desire to reach out to them and teach them about his feelings towards Christmas. Gathering his courage he walked carefully to the front of the moving train.
“Can I have your attention please,” he shouted with a big smile on his face. A few looked up, but most ignored his request and kept their attention on their phones, papers, or books.
“May I wish you all a Merry Christmas?!” He paused momentarily. “I know that it isn’t politically correct to say that, because according to some brain-dead lawyer it might offend someone. But I ask you, are you offended if I wish something good for you? Are you irritated because I hope for a better life for you? Do you feel insulted because I want to express my love for mankind to you by wishing you a Merry Christmas?”
Dan looked at the Jewish man who had put down his book and listened. “You sir, are you offended if I wish you a Merry Christmas?” The Jewish man shrugged and replied, “According to history, Jesus Christ was a Jew. I don’t believe he was the Son of God, but I certainly don’t take offense that you honor one of my ancestors. Happy Hanukah by the way,” he said politely. Dan smiled and nodded a thank you.
Turning to the Muslim woman Dan asked, “Do you take offense if I wish you a Merry Christmas?” The woman looked cautiously around at the group who at this point were listening intently. “Christmas is not a Muslim tradition, but the prophet Muhammad fasted along with the Jews on the Day of Ashura, so why can’t I celebrate a holiday that promotes peace on earth and good will to men?”
“How about anybody else? Whatever you believe or don’t believe, do you take offense when I wish you a Merry Christmas?” asked Dan loudly yet cheerfully.
“In Hindu we celebrate the birth of Lord Rama, so I view Christmas as a similar celebration,” said an Indian man in a business suit.
“Merry Christmas and Happy Kwanzaa man!” shouted one of the black teenagers in the back of the car with a big grin on his face. “It’s all cool!”
A businessman near the door put down his paper and said laughingly, “I don’t believe in God, but I get lots of gifts and treats from my Christian friends during Christmas time. What’s bad about that?”
Dan smiled as everyone laughed and several conversations began among people that before were strangers making their daily commute home. He went around the train and wished each individual a heartfelt Merry Christmas. As he sat down he felt the Christmas Spirit more than ever because he had followed what Jesus had taught – he had loved his neighbor, in spite of their differences.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
While I was in the military I didn't appreciate Veteran's Day like I do now. While still on active duty it often meant a parade detail or some sort of official function while everyone else was enjoying a day off. I guess I became a little jaded. Perhaps I felt that way because I viewed my own sacrifices as light or nonexistent when compared to those who lost life or limb. I didn't, and still don't, feel worthy of the praise that we rightly shower down on those who sacrificed so much on our behalf.
As a nation we should be very slow to go to war. We should seek every possible avenue to avoid the bloodshed and carnage that inevitably is part of armed conflict. We should endeavor to persuade our potential enemies by all the means available to us, and even be willing to accept a few political "black eyes" to avoid the bloodshed.
However, when and if we do decide to wage war, we must wage it to win!
I have never been a big believer in "limited warfare". The concept seems irrational to me. If the cause is worth waging war over, then let us wage it in all earnestness and with the full weight of our conviction behind it. Once we cross the line from heated verbal exchanges to armed conflict, we should release the "dogs of war" until victory is achieved. Too often "limited warfare" leads to a "limited victory". Too often a limited response cheapens the lives of those who have volunteered to sacrifice on our behalf.
John Stuart Mill said,
“War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things: the decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks nothing worth a war, is worse. When a people are used as mere human instruments for firing cannon or thrusting bayonets, in the service and for the selfish purposes of a master, such war degrades a people. A war to protect other human beings against tyrannical injustice – a war to give victory to their own ideas of right and good, and which is their own war, carried on for an honest purpose by their free choice – is often the means of their regeneration. A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. As long as justice and injustice have not terminated their ever-renewing fight for ascendancy in the affairs of mankind, human beings must be willing, when need is, to do battle for the one against the other.”
John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), “The Contest in America.” Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 24, Issue 143, page 683-684. Harper & Bros., New York, April 1862.
Right now a soldier is putting their life in harm's way for you and for me. They do it for Democrats, Republicans, and Independants. They do it for hippies, yuppies, and generation X. They do it for Wall Street and Main Street. They do it for the common working man, and the tycoon. They even do it for those who protest against them. But best of all, they do it voluntarily.
This Veteran's Day, let us give thanks to those who have sacrificed and continue to sacrifice on our behalf. May we be worthy of the gifts they purchased us with their blood.
My daughter had an interesting homework assignment last night. She had to write a paragraph about what the world would be like one hundred years from now. A lot can change in a one hundred years.
The last one hundred years certainly brought a lot of changes. The automobile replaced the horse and buggy. The cellular phone replaced the telegraph. The high definition television replaced the radio. Email replaced the letter. Air travel replaced the train and the cruise ship.
Several deadly diseases no longer pose a threat. Vision can be corrected with a surgical procedure. The mysteries of the genetic code are being solved. The average life expectancy has increased by over twenty years.
Yes, a lot could change in one hundred years, yet a lot will remain the same.
I predict that in one hundred years, peace on earth will still be just as allusive as it is today. Because the lust for power, white-hot anger, and man’s inability to forgive a neighbor will still be with us. War will still be with us.
A hundred years from now diet, exercise, and taking care of yourself will still be the best way to live a long and healthy life. Because the temptation to overeat, drink alcohol, or ingest various other harmful substances will still be with us. Health problems brought on by personal choices will still be with us.
A hundred years from now crime will still plague society. Because lying, thievery, and murder will still spring from the hearts of humankind. Criminals and police will still be with us.
A hundred years from now the family will still be the most important part of society. Because the basic desire to love and be loved is an innate part of what it means to be human, men and women will find a way to build a loving relationship and produce offspring.
A hundred years from now truth will still be true. Truth will not change with changing times. The advice to forgive others their trespasses, love thy neighbor as thyself, and do unto others as you would have them do unto you, will all be true in one hundred years, one thousand years, one million years, and for eternities.
A lot can change in one hundred years, but the basics of human nature and the truths that govern our interactions with one another haven’t changed in eons.
