Wonderful Heroes



Heroes are not really in such short supply even though they are sometimes difficult to identify. We can find them right alongside the angels in our lives. There is no need for costumes and capes or super powers to rescue us. They save the day in small and sometimes large ways...just because it is the right thing to do. One of the great representations of this kind of hero can be seen over and over again during the Christmas season in the characterization of George Bailey in “It’s A Wonderful Life” by Frank Capra. As a boy, the selfless George Bailey saves his little brother’s life on an icy pond and later stops his boss, Mr. Gower, from accidentally poisoning a customer. He grows up and sacrifices his own plans and dreams to rescue his home town from the greedy clutches of Mr. Potter (who is as despicable as George is virtuous).

George Bailey is memorable for his good deeds but is unforgettable because he is so human and so accessible. George is as fragile and flawed as any of us. His brokenness makes him real and allows us to recognize heroism even in our own character. In the story, His Uncle Billy misplaces an $8,000 deposit by putting it right in the hands of Mr. Potter. Potter issues a warrant for George Bailey’s arrest in a show of power and need for revenge.

The seemingly unalterable approach of destructive consequences or outcomes in our lives causes feelings of fear to intensify beyond toleration. We sense everything as so far out of control that we can do nothing to stem their tide. George Bailey was in just such a predicament. His pending arrest and the subsequent scandal would not only confirm his secret negative self concept but would also ruin his wife, children and family. He tried to deal with the situation head-on but failed to get a solution. George believed that there was no way out. His feelings became more and more exaggerated. Hopelessness, shame, worthlessness and panic can cause people to do things that would otherwise be unthinkable. George Bailey decided to kill himself. The world would be better off had he never been born.

We all know what happened to George Bailey. His eccentric and somewhat simple little guardian angel shows up to stop the tragic plan. Ultimately George is given the opportunity to see just what the world would have looked like if he had not existed. His witness of the real impact of his good deeds and heroism provide a perspective of what is really important. He experiences an inner transformation that dispels self doubt, self loathing and inadequacy. The love, appreciation and warm regard for George Bailey by family and community are ignited in an effort to resolve the impending doom of his crisis. The outpouring of affection, prayer and divine intervention work of course. Everyone is changed including Clarence the angel who gets his wings.

We experience one of the profound lessons of “It’s A Wonderful Life” in a variety of ways (especially at Christmastime). Something incredible happens when we give deeply of ourselves without regard for personal comfort. Nothing will ever be the same. Our efforts to provide help to the helpless and hope to the hopeless will shine a light in the darkness that cannot be extinguished. Both hero and victim benefit equally. We are not given any information that would lead us to think that Mr. Potter is somehow transformed but I believe that he was. The ripple effects of goodness can create a tidal wave that will rock the world even of those who seem to have the most hardened of hearts.  Another important lesson of "It's A Wonderful Life" is the celebration of the selfless everyday-hero.  We are reminded that not only do we need heroes...and there are times when heroes need us...but also that each and every one of us is, in fact, a great hero.

A High Tech Christmas

1963 marked more than a subtle shift in my attitude and desires surrounding Christmas. I was a teenager FINALLY. It had been a tumultuous year for everyone. The President of The United States had been assassinated and an entire nation had watched it unfold before their eyes on television. We were unaware, for the most part, that there had been an end of innocence as well. This would unfold over the next several years. My personal innocence was pretty well over too. Puberty and sexual curiosity were blooming. Certainly Santa Claus was in my rear view mirror. No more wish lists of toys. I had formally announced that I was no longer to be called Bobby. My grandparents were spared from calling me Bob out of deference to their affection and age but everyone else was put on notice. Everything was going to be different.

There was no vacuum created just because toys were “out”. I sure was not willing to settle for socks, underwear and sweaters for presents. No sir. The world of high technology had provided a whole new focus for this teenager. I desperately wanted a set of walkie-talkies…and not the Buck Rogers kid toy that had been around for years either. My heart was set on two channel, citizen band, high powered two way radios that would allow me to have field communications with my pals no matter where our adventures might lead us. Just the thought of having it made me feel like Dick Tracy. Closest thing to a 2-Way Wrist Radio that a kid could ever have! Just think of the juvenile delinquents that we could avoid and crimes that we could expose with walkie-talkies! My list of Christmas bounty also included a portable tape recorder. No would-be secret agent could be without a Craig Miniature Tape Recorder. Covert recording of adults would reveal the answers to the many secrets hidden from the younger generation. We could make records of our thoughts and inspirations. The possibilities were limitless. I also wanted Beatle music. The first album, Meet The Beatles, had not made it to the markets and devout fans would have to wait until January. There were still those single 45’s on my list though. Who could live without “I Want To Hold Your Hand”, “She Loves You”, or “From Me To You”? I ask you. Really! So there it was, a Christmas without little kid junk…strictly teenaged material on request.

Christmas Eve was no longer celebrated at my grandparent’s home on Swisher Avenue in Danville. They spent longer winters in Florida now. Mom and Dad drove Daddy Baum’s Chrysler Imperial down to Hillsboro Beach while my grandparents flew. They were actually there when President Kennedy was killed. I had been staying with my friend, Scott Golden and just across the ravine from my great pal Mark Faulkner. Anyway, they were back on November 24 and a month later we would spend our first Christmas Eve without my dear grandparents. All of the presents were under our own stylish (and controversial) aluminum tree. It was a pretty nice display of gifts. Nothing like the mounds that existed with the larger extended family in previous years…but not bad! We had a nice dinner and went into the Sun Room like three grown up people might to begin unwrapping the year’s bounty.

Sure enough, my dreams had been fulfilled! Dad was the owner of a John Deere dealership and had obtained two extremely powerful Motorola CB, two channel, walkie-talkies that were strong enough for farmers to communicate with each other and families while at work. Wow! There was also the portable tape recorder and Beatle records along with some model cars to put together, the game Risk and, of course, clothes, underwear and socks (Geez). It was hard not to act as excited as a little kid but I was a teenager now. I expressed my sincere thanks as Bob Jones and excused myself to go call my buddy Steve Magin to make the big announcement. We had a tradition of calling each other on Christmas Eve. The phone rang and Steve answered. He asked the annual question, “What’d ya get?” I told him that he wouldn’t believe it. I got the walkie-talkies and the tape recorder. We were going to be in business. His excitement matched mine. REALLY hard not to burst with joy and anticipation.

I took the walkie-talkies to our Jones family Christmas gathering the next day in DeLand at Bondurant Place to share with my cousins. We sure had a lot of fun talking from the basement to the upstairs bedrooms and all around the farm outside. The rest of the holiday was spent exploring the world of two way private communication with Steve Magin and Gary Cox. Steve would take one of the units back to his house and we could talk under the sheets and blankets from way down the street after lights-out without our parents ever knowing what we were cooking up. Little did we know that our conversations were now privy to the ears of a ham radio operator on Commercial Street…on the OTHER SIDE OF TOWN. It wasn’t until a few days later that we heard the guy actually talking on his big time radio to someone in China or somewhere. Steve and I were talking to each other about important stuff when all of a sudden the guy said, “Hold on a minute. I can’t hear you. Those damn kids are interfering with the transmission.” DAMN KIDS? We were damn kids were we? Well he had been snooping where he shouldn’t have been snooping. We had just as much right on the airwaves as he did. A minor radio war ensued from that point forward. The guy on Commercial Street became another of those adult public enemies along with Steve-the-grouch and Tars Janitars, among others, who had a mission of making our lives difficult. No matter. We would overcome. Endless hours of entertainment would only be enhanced by this person.

Life had changed. The Beatles blared from my Dad’s stereo system and conversations began to focus on the mystery of girls. High tech had taken over. We used the portable tape recorder to secretly record my parent’s cocktail parties, baited conversations with unknowing friends and made a historic taped session of a day in Duckville. Sorry, no explanation for readers there. Some things just can’t be made public. There are still too many adults listening in.

Christmas Beginnings

From "The Shop Around The Corner" (1940)



There is a great Christmas present to be found in the movie "The Shop Around The Corner" (1940) starring Jimmy Stewart, Margaret Sullivan and Frank Morgan (the wonderful Wizard of Oz) among others.  It tells the story of budding, albeIt confused, love and friendship.  Everything points to a Christmas revelation and does not disappoint. Other movies such as "You've Got Mail" were inspired by the light spirit and good humor of this classic.  The movie is also gives us reason to look more closely at what life is really offering.

We are usually in a hurry or at least transfixed by our daily duties and obligations. There is a whir of activity that sometimes clouds our view and obscures the fact that the most magnificent things are going on right in front of us. The commotion and noise muffle the sweet sound of friendship and even deeper possibilities of relationships. Then comes the Christmas season in which the lights, decorations, generosity of strangers and anticipation of something wonderful surround us and give us pause. Suddenly, we become aware of some of the miracles that have been there all along.

Lonely hearts and missed opportunities can all find healing at Christmas. There is a conspiracy of beginnings that signifies the very message of the season. The world is created anew in the birth of a savior. Kings and shepherds gather together as comrades. The impossible becomes possible. There is no doubt about it. What a great opportunity to look more deeply, listen more closely, and open the gifts in front of us. It must be that the wonderful is coming.

Schemes and Gifts

There is a wonderful story told in a movie called “The Cheaters” in 1945. A wealthy family is having financial difficulty and hatches a plan to gain an inheritance for themselves by hoodwinking a long lost cousin who was the actual recipient. They also scheme to improve their reputation in the community by adopting a “lost man” and bring him to their house for the holidays. They find a news story of a washed-up actor who has attempted to commit suicide and bring him to their home. The actor proves far more than they bargained for and shows them some real truths about giving and living. He discovers the family inheritance plot and reveals the truth through an amazing recital of "A Christmas Carol". The story’s gift is received by the family and everyone is redeemed.

We go to great lengths to make things happen the way that we want. This is not about making simple plans.  It is the process of taking complete control and trying to force an outcome. People manipulate, maneuver and coerce one another in order to achieve their sometimes selfish desires. The result is almost never what was really wanted. Those who have been forced into doing things that they don’t want to do are never very happy participants. Everyone ends up disappointed.

How do we abstain from plotting, scheming and controlling?  The answer is to let go of the notion of outcomes all together.  Examine the motivation behind your wishes and desires, get honest about what you need, know that you are loved and release people from your grips.  There are gifts that will flow to us when we let go and let God.  It is a transforming experience.

The Christmas Boxes

I really love Christmas. There is nothing else in the calendar that makes me so happy. My head and heart are full of stories that are rich with traditions, family and friends. It is difficult to imagine that there is anyone who has been blessed any more than I. There has always been abundant love easily accessed for me. Despite my failings and shortcomings most of the people in my life have hung in there and supported me. I am so thankful.

One of the warm Christmas memories that I have comes from 1992. I had been living in the mountains of North Carolina near Brevard for almost two years and had just moved into an A Frame home near Lake Toxaway. My good friend, Michael Sessom, had been staying with me. He was quite a spiritual teacher and guide. The move took place in November and it was obvious that the house would lend itself nicely to holiday decorations. Michael called it a Christmas House. The steep two story ceiling would accommodate a huge tree but buying one that tall would be impossible. Friends of mine from Madison County, Steve Magin and Boone and Kathy McFalls came to the rescue. They chopped down a gigantic pine and hauled it down to the house for Thanksgiving. A wood frame had to be constructed just to hold it. Hours of planning, building, pulling and yanking finally resulted in success. The living room was filled with the magnificent tree. Michael spend days putting balls and ornaments on it. He made dozens of “God Eyes” and other things to hang. It took lots and lots of lights as well. The finished Christmas tree was impressive to say the least but the few presents underneath looked a bit paltry. This led Michael to make a decision that would change the way that I would look at presents for the rest of my life.

We were admiring the tree after work at Bridgeway Treatment Center one chilly December night. Michael was disappointed in the emptiness underneath and made a terrific suggestion. “Let’s wrap up the moving boxes like Christmas presents.” He said. “You take half of the boxes and I will take the other half. Then we will write a Christmas memory and put it in the box. On Christmas Eve we can open them and share our memories.” I agreed and we went about the job for the next several days. The big, gaily wrapped boxes looked stunning around the tree. It was perfect. The Christmas Eve opening was actually moved to the day before. I was headed up to Illinois to be with my daughters. There was never a more emotional or deeply moving present exchange that I can remember. Each box contained such joy and happiness. Some of the memories had sadnesses but all of them reflected the great riches and love that we had experienced in our lives. The meaning of Christmas went far beyond the material things that year and has traveled with me ever since.

We are all loved more than we will ever know. Merry, Merry Christmas to you!

Christmas Eve

There is seldom a Christmas Eve when I don't watch the 1951 classic "A Christmas Carol" with Alistair Sim.  It has been a tradition since they started showing in on TV back in the late 50s or early 60s.  There are plenty of messages that the movie sends.  Perhaps the strongest is one of awakening and redemption.

It was a painful process that finally brought Scrooge to his Christmas epiphany. He promised that he would "honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."  Startled shock did not do it. Reliving his past sadnesses and joys did not. Experiencing the suffering of others didn’t either. It was being faced with his own mortality and the fact that time was at hand which delivered him to an awakening.

We always think that there is plenty of time. We will give to charity when we are better off financially, spend time with the kids when we aren’t so busy, visit an old friend next week or call that special relative later. But time is at hand for us just as it was for Ebenezer Scrooge. Christmas reminds us that we have an opportunity, right now, to change the way that we operate. It is about redemption, reconciliation, forgiveness and a celebration of life. It is about new birth.

Merry Christmas to all!

A Puppy for Christmas

Bobby Jones & Santa 1957

There is nothing that can compare to the joy felt by a child when receiving a dog for Christmas. More elaborate and bigger gifts might be forgotten in a relatively short time but a puppy from Santa will always be remembered. My own experience was 53 years ago but is as vivid in my mind as if it happened last year.

It was December, 1957 and I had been campaigning for a dog since summer. The crusade was relentless. “Every boy needs a dog. “ I finally heard Mother say to my Dad. “He seems to want one so badly. I’m just sure he would take care of it.” Dad retorted that he knew better than that. “You and I are going to end up taking it out and feeding it.” "The answer is NO!" My heart sank. I knew that I would be a good master. Visions of Lassie and Jeff streamed through my brain. How tough could it be to take care of a dog? It was after Thanksgiving and the only recourse seemed to be going to Meis Brothers Department Store and asking for the intervention of Santa Claus. I would not have stooped to visiting Santa if it wasn't an emergency. Most of my friends were pretty sure that he did not exist. But it was sure worth a try. Mom made me get all dressed up and took me to the lap of my last hope. The plea of a lonely little boy seemed to be too much for my Mom. It looked like she had a tear in her eye when I completed my poignant begging. SUCCESS! It was all up to her and good ole Santa now.  Dad was no match for both of them.

The Christmas season was busy with family gatherings and school plays. No verbal mention was made again of my fondest wish. After all, I did not want to nix the deal with SC. There were longing sighs and lonely looks that should have transmitted my desperation but you never know how parents might interpret such things. Christmas Eve arrived. We always got to open one present prior to going over to my grandparents house. I was pretty sure what my gift was going to be. What a disappointment when there was no animal sized box with holes in it around the tree. I got a ping pong ball burp gun.  Geez.  How would Santa know to deliver a puppy to the home of relatives? Surely there was a mistake…some mixup with another kid down the block or something. We went to my grandparents house and there was no wriggling sack or whimpering crate. No way in the world would Santa take a dog to my Aunt Helen's home in DeLand, Illinois. That was never happening. So I began to settle into the bleak resolve that Santa did not exist and that my parents had hearts of stone.

Dinner time came and I had no appetite. My grandmother had prepared a feast for the families. Every favorite was displayed on good china. Goodies were overflowing the table. I couldn’t have cared less. My grandmother noticed and asked “What' wrong, Robby?" (She was the only one allowed to call me Robby).  I mumbled something but was interrupted by the back doorbell. It was tradition that only adults answered the door so when my grandmother told me to answer it I was dumbstruck. Dad said “You heard Noie, get the door.” I hopped up , ran to the door and opened it hard. There, standing in all of his glory, was Santa Claus himself. He asked if I was Bobby Jones. I stammered a "yes" and he went on to say that he had missed one of my presents and just made the discovery on his sleigh. He knelt down and opened his red bag. It was wiggling...and there before my very eyes was a little black puppy. I hugged Santa as hard as I could and scooped up my little pal. There he was…My pride and joy. Everything else became a blur for the next 24 hours. I named him Penny and he was by my side, in my bed and nipping at my feet at all times. There was never a better present and never again was there a doubt in my mind about the existence of Santa Claus. For the rest of my life. Really.

An Advent & Christmas Story

The greatest miracle of Christmas is an awakening.  We are not on our journey alone.  God has joined us on the path by becoming human.  He walks with us and participates in our joys and sadnesses.  We do not have to be afraid.  We have our loyal and loving companion.

There is a wonderful little story that is always worth sharing at Christmas.  It is a favorite of mine.  The fourth Sunday of Advent asks that we stand prepared to receive God where we are.  It asks for us to participate.  Here is the story:

"In New York City, on a cold day in December, a little boy, about 10-years-old, was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the young boy and said, ‘my, but you’re in such deep thought staring in that window!’ ‘I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,’ was the boy’s reply. The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel. By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy’s feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes. She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, ‘No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.’ As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked her. ‘Are you God’? No, said the woman. I am only his child. The boy smiled and said. I knew it. I knew you were some relation of his."

Now is the time to act like a relative.  It is time to reach out and assist others in solidarity with God.  It is Christmas.

The Christmas Fire

The Christmas Tree was very important to my family.  We had a longstanding tradition of finding the perfect tree back in the 1950's.  Of course almost everyone else was involved in the same quest.  Tree lots were combed from as early as the weekend after Thanksgiving.  Long needles, short needles, spruce and balsam were all considered.  The decision was made after lengthy discussions about which would hold the needles the longest and which best represented Christmas past.  The chosen tree was then hauled over to my uncle's Chrysler dealership to join the ones found by his family and by my grandparents.  Uncle Smitty loaded up his car painting system with snow fluff and we lightly flocked all three trees.

The arrival of the tree, usually tied and wrapped securely to the top of our Chrysler, was a moment of triumph for my Dad.  There it was.  Christmas splendor in our own house.  Decorations with special family significance, a cotton tree skirt, bubble and tinkle multicolor lights all were draped on the tree while eggnog and fudge were consumed by the fireplace.  Then, in 1960, something controversial happened.  Mother discovered the magnificent and elegant Aluminum Christmas Tree (complete with rotating color wheel).

I was never quite sure why my father relented to the interloping fake that began to grace our "sun room" that Christmas.  He gave it the most disturbing looks and glances.  Not quite a scowl but something akin to disgust.  Mom was oblivious.  She found the best tree money could buy at Marshall Fields in Chicago.  It could only be decorated with certain ornaments.  They were all red and very fashionable.  No lights were necessary.  The color wheel took care of that.  One moment it was green, then red, then blue and then a strange yellow gold.  All of the traditional stuff was packed away in deference to the new.  I had raely seen my mother so proud and happy.  It was certainly a decorator tree to show off to all of the family, friends and neighbors.

There developed a kind of tension between the tree and Dad over the next few years.  It was 1964 when all hell broke loose.   My buddy Steve and I were goofing around in the basement rec room.  The unhappiness that Dad was experiencing over the tree proved to be too much for Mom.  She gave way to his pleas and watched in horror as he brought down all of the old decorations and began to drape them on the aluminum tree.  The thing got loaded down with everything but popcorn garland.  She sat in a chair with a cocktail in defeat.  Dad's masterpiece was crowned by the cotton skirt.  Presents were crammed under the branches until the inevitable happened.  One spark from a light strand, through the aluminum, down the trunk and POOF.  All Steve and I heard was stomping and pounding.  By the time that we got upstairs the sun room was going up in flames and Dad was trying to put it out with his hands.  Quick thinking from two 14 year olds saved the day.  We formed a bucket brigade and put out the fire before the fire department got there.  We were instant heroes.  Dad and Mom went to the hospital to treat his burned hands.  I was trusted to be left alone and spend the night at my friend Gary's.

The aluminum tree melted that year and was never replaced.  No more fake trees for us.  It was back to flocked ones.  We moved to a bigger home the next year.  Dad spent many hours admiring his traditional tree.  Mom did get all new fancy ornaments anyway.  Everyone was happy.  Steve and I still like to put out all kinds of fires (usually, but not always, metaphorical).

Christmas Eve 1914

German and Allied soldiers celebrate the 1914
Christmas truce in No Man's Land - this
photograph was considered subversive
and for many years, was censored

Jim Wallis is the founder and heart of Sojouners in Washington, DC. His writings and work have inspired me for decades now. The voice of reconcilliation and compassion that he offers is a rare gift to us all. The article that he wrote in 2002 entitled "Christmas In The Trenches" is my offering for your reflection this year.

Silent Night, by Stanley Weintraub, is the story of Christmas Eve, 1914, on the World War I battlefield in Flanders. As the German, British, and French troops facing each other were settling in for the night, a young German soldier began to sing "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht." Others joined in. When they had finished, the British and French responded with other Christmas carols.
Eventually, the men from both sides left their trenches and met in the middle. They shook hands, exchanged gifts, and shared pictures of their families. Informal soccer games began in what had been "no-man's-land." And a joint service was held to bury the dead of both sides.

The generals, of course, were not pleased with these events. Men who have come to know each other's names and seen each other's families are much less likely to want to kill each other. War seems to require a nameless, faceless enemy. So, following that magical night the men on both sides spent a few days simply firing aimlessly into the sky. Then the war was back in earnest and continued for three more bloody years. Yet the story of that Christmas Eve lingered - a night when the angels really did sing of peace on earth.

Folksinger John McCutcheon wrote a song about that night in Belgium, titled "Christmas in the Trenches," from the viewpoint of a young British solder. Several poignant verses are:

"The next they sang was 'Stille Nacht,' 'Tis 'Silent Night'," says I.
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky
"There's someone coming towards us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one lone figure coming from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell.
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeeze box and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone for evermore."

My prayer for the new year is for a nation and world where people can come out of their trenches and together sing their hopes for peace. We here at Sojourners will carry on that mission, and we invite you to continue on the journey with us.

Merry Christmas 2008

"I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to every-body!”

These are the words of Ebenezer Scrooge given by Charles Dickens in his timeless tale, “A Christmas Carol” published in 1843. I am one of those sentimental, schmaltzy guys who puts on the classic 1951 movie “Scrooge” starring Alastair Sim and watch all by myself so that I can tear up at the end without embarrassment. I do the same with “It’s A Wonderful Life”, “The Cheaters” (re-released this year by Turner by the way), “Miracle on 34th Street” and others. My family tired of my ritual long ago…so part of my viewing alone is to avoid the sighs and grumbles. No problem. They just don’t fall into the category of avid traditionalists like me and I don’t expect them to. Anyway, Scrooge continues to be my favorite without peer. It has long been my Christmas companion (the 1938 version was my first childhood television Scrooge…but it does not compare). The message that comes to me each year with Scrooge is one of conversion to happiness and generosity. It is a message that we are always hungry to hear.

Happiness has come to me in countless Christmas memories this year as well as the promise of making new ones. My friends and family are making plans to gather all over the country. Bonita and I will be visiting our son, Steven and Mary Jane in Memphis and then heading down to Orlando for the Capital One Bowl on New Years Day. My daughter Courtney and Jon are trying to get down to the warm Florida poolside during the holidays. Daughter Kristy announced her engagement this fall. My Danville gang, the JCOS, gathered in November with me and celebrated. David Gross and Patti have stopped by to visit at our rental home in Florida. Come on down y’all. No kidding! I caught up with Ed and Sharon Williams and had a good reminiscence. Ed has the spirit of Grand Dad Jones in every word he speaks. Joan French is having a grand reunion in Peoria to celebrate 80 years. We are all excited about that gathering (“a good time will be had by all”). I have been married for almost 14 years to the love of my life. You just can’t beat it!

Generosity has presented itself in the unselfish work that I have witnessed at Covenant House in Orlando. If you are looking for a way to help kids that are horribly marginalized and troubled…kids that are ignored and forgotten…please send them a few bucks. It will be used well and appreciated greatly. The particulars are Covenant House Orlando, 5931 E Colonial Dr., Orlando, FL 32807, (407) 426-7888. Scrooge was confronted by the Spirit of Christmas Present who exposed two children beneath his cloak “they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy.” It is a good time to be generous, isn’t it?

So, I send my love and the spirit of happiness and generosity to you all. May the joy of Christmas be with us always. Dare I say it? In the words of Tiny Tim…"God bless us every one.”

A Christmas Memory

Bondurant Place, DeLand, Illinois

Christmas, for me, is among other things a time of fond remembering. Some of my most vivid memories are of the late 1950s and early 1960s celebrations at the country home of the Trenchards, my uncle and aunt, in Deland, Illinois. In the middle of the endless Central Illinois farmland sat Bondurant Place. Named for Uncle Wendell's grandfather, it was nestled among hundreds of trees with a winding driveway. Truly a festive gathering place for my granddad, his nine children and their families.

I remember waking up early to see what Santa brought to our house at 18 West Winter in Danville. Mom and Dad were in their robes and we opened presents and hugged and laughed. It was hard to get me away without taking a favorite something to go on the road to Deland. But by the time we got to Champaign on two lane, snow packed roads, I was anticipating the event at Bondurant Place!

Wendell Trenchard and Bobby Jones

Uncle Wendell would be HO! HO! HOing at a door wrapped with an image of Santa! Aunt Helen would gleefully shriek at our arrival almost as if she didn’t know we were coming. "They're Here! They're Here!" they would exclaim. We were always the first to arrive...except that cousin Joan, her husband Taylor and the boys had spent the night...and had Christmas Eve together. The oldest son, Bon, would be down at the trains in the basement. I was so excited I could burst. People would start coming almost in order! Granddad and his companion Mavie were next, then Aunt Beulah, and then everyone else almost at once and then.....Aunt Nellie, Uncle Lester, Irene and Sarah! Always last...always anticipated with joy! Everyone received the happy "They're Here!" greeting. The smells of turkey and goodies filled the house. The cousins and cousins played and played mostly downstairs. There was no need for lots of toys...but there were plenty of them. We just delighted in each other. We shot each other with Ack Ack Guns, played with the best model train set in the world, looked for spooks in the coal bin, explored the unknown....Every now and then one of the parents or uncles or aunts ventured down for a minute. They knew that we were OK but just wanted to share in the fun! My older cousins could only resist for awhile. We usually got them involved without much struggle!

Grand Dad Jones and some of his brood

Then came the call! Dinner was ready. All of the adults sat at the big table and the younger members at the children’s table. As people moved or died you graduated to the adult table. I never made it. The littlest kids sat in the adjacent sun room next to the kitchen and the older kids sat at the table in the hallway. Everyone hushed and Uncle Wendell called for order. Aunt Nellie said the blessing. Then we got in to the feast. What a feast it always was! Turkey, dressing (traditional and oyster), cranberries, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, fancy butter....place cards at every seat made by Aunt Cil....Oh Boy! When the main course was done we got to have special frozen Santa ice cream made just for us and Hickory Nut Cake (We all LOVE Hickory Nut Cake).

There was short a play time while we waited for the next tradition. In a few minutes we would all line up according to age and put our hands on the right shoulder in front of us. Sarah was always in front of me. Granddad Jones was first and held the long strand of Jingle Bells. Uncle Wendell would fire up his lights and movie camera. Then we marched through the house singing "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way". Opening presents took forever! Someone would play Santa and bring a present one at a time. The relative would open it and we would all go "Oooh and Ahhh". Then the next one.

FINALLY...we could go and play again! It was back to the basement. Uncle Lester would fall asleep on the couch. The Moms would clean up and the other Dads would play gin rummy. This would be story time in by the fireplace in the basement. I would start with the most horrible ghost story that I had learned that year. Usually Strawn, Penn, Danny, or Debbie would sit on my lap. The room would hush. Terror would fill the room!

Helen Trenchard and Mary Timmons

Now the call would come again! Aunt Helen would have made a special bag of goodies and leftovers for each family. It was time to go home. Sometimes I wanted to cry...but usually I was eager to get home to tell my buddies about "what I got". I could never relate to them that "what I got" at Bondurant Place was more important and more fun than anything that came in a beautifully wrapped box. It was dark and there was snow hanging on every branch. I fell asleep in the back seat of our Chrysler. Happy Family....Happy Christmas

Christmas and Winter Solstice

“Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; The calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to lead them.

The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest; the lion shall eat hay like the ox.
The baby shall play by the cobra's den, and the child lay his hand on the adder's lair.

There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD, as water covers the sea.”

Today, the winter solstice, is a celebration of light. It is the beginning of Winter in the Northern Hemisphere and of Summer in the Southern Hemisphere. There have been festivals throughout history which mark this “triumph of the sun” since ancient times. Light and illumination are the focus of attention as the seasons give us hope for tomorrow.

It is no coincidence that this is the week of Christmas. We have been marking the days of Advent in anticipation of the miracle of renewed birth. This is our time of joy. The whole atmosphere is infused with joy. Once again we are given the opportunity to do the right thing in response to this light, illumination, hope and joy of Christmas.

How does Jesus appear to young people who die of AIDS, to the millions without employment and social dignity…when children are physically and sexually abused…when women continue in many cultures as subordinates…when ethnic slaughter goes on in Africa, Europe and Asia…when the Earth is ravaged by our excesses? How does light and joy come to these? Jesus, the light of the world comes in the guise of YOU. We have the renewed chance for reconciliation with those who suffer. It is our opening to offer relief to our brothers and sisters who experience material, emotional, social, moral and physical poverty.

How can I illuminate life for others? How can I bring joy, hope and light to the world?

An Advent Thought

It is "the most wonderful time of the year". Johnny Mathis reminded me of this with his traditional Christmas Carol on my way to work today. This is the season of Advent. The practice of observing Advent is one that is practiced by many Christians throughout the world. It is all about anticipation. It is about finding the gift in each day. What a good thing to remember as we rush to Christmas.

One day, an old friend from high school days called me on the phone. He was going through a difficult time and wondering if and when things would ever turn around and improve. I knew he was in a lot of pain. I didn't know then that he was considering suicide.

"You are in the helping profession," he said, "If you could give a person only one thing to help them...what would it be?"

I thought carefully about his question; then I replied, "It's not one thing. It's two: gratitude and letting go." Gratitude for everything, not just the things we consider good or a blessing. And letting go of everything we can't change.

A few years passed and my friend called me again. His life had turned around. Two very large problems he was facing at that time sorted themselves out. The actual process of facing and working on these problems helped him redirect the course of his life.

Someone once asked the artist Georgia O'Keeffe why her paintings magnified the size of small objects, like the petals on a flower making them appear larger than life, and reduced the size of large objects like mountains, making them smaller than life.

"Everyone sees the big things," she said. "But these smaller things are so beautiful and people might not notice them if I didn't emphasize them."

That's the way it is with gratitude and letting go. It's easy to see the problems in our lives. They're like mountains. But sometimes we overlook the smaller things; we don't notice how truly beautiful they are.

If you're going to make anything bigger than life, let it be the power and simplicity of these two tools: gratitude and letting go.

God, teach me to use gratitude and letting go to reduce the size of my problems.