Felt it was time to post something... tell a story about Christmas as most of us experience it. If you like the story, consider it my Christmas Gift to you... if not, well, maybe I'll do better next year.
Norm
Steve was getting ready for the Family Christmas... like
always... all of the cousins would be there.. aunts, uncles... brother and
sisters... Mother and Father, Grandmother and Grandfather... husbands and wives of cousins, brother and
sisters... a former sister in law who was divorced from his brother, but was
still part of the family on Holiday Occasions... that wasn’t awkward.. except
maybe for the new wife, the year that both John’s ex-wife and new wife made rum
balls and everybody had to pretend the that new wife’s weren’t better....
Oh, and naturally there would be 2 parrots, 4 parakeets,
three cats, two dogs, little Tina’s Guinea pig (she takes it everywhere)... and
who knows? Maybe three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear
tree.
If he had his choice he would be one of the Lord’s of
Leapin’... leapin’ out of there!
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family or enjoy
Christmas... he did love his family: his sisters, his really successful and
popular brother – his brother’s ex-wife and wife... his brothers in law – his
mother and father... nearly ALL of the cousins (especially little Tina with the
Guinea pig)... but it was a long drive to Ottawa, the weather was always a
problem this time of year... the highway around Kingston was murder... and..
and..
Well, he wasn’t.. he didn’t... well, measure up well.
He didn’t have a good a job...
He didn’t have kids... he didn’t even have a partner...
He didn’t know how to act... the gathering used to be at
his Grandparents place, they had this big old house in Ottawa. And everybody would dress up.... but Steve didn’t have suit and only one tie...
brown shoes... Brother John, he wore a
tux... and danced with the aunts... They
would gather in the Living Room around the grand piano and sing carols... and
if you didn’t want to sing you were expected to go to the kitchen or somewhere
else to converse. Steve knew the first
verse to most carols... John was able to sing O Come All Ye Faithful in Latin: Adeste Fideles (all the verses). Most years, John was asked to leave because
he clearly was more interested in talking than singing. A song sheet might have helped!!! And what’s so wrong about wanting to sing
Frosty the Snowman?
Eventually the gathering moved to Steve’s parents
place. Brother John, who lived in town
and worked for the government, did a lot to help getting everything ready –
Steve’s sisters had made special food... Steve was coming from far away, so
there wasn’t much he could do. He offered to help pay the caterer but Mom and
Dad just laughed... nicely... but it was still laughter. That year, Steve took his meagre savings and
invested it wisely – he rented a tux.
And he got one of the girls at work to teach him to dance (a
little). This year – new locale – and a
new Steve – he’d be suave like his brother and he’d make his old Aunts swoon
when he invited out onto the dance floor.
He showed up ready for a great evening... he could smell the mulling spices wafting
down to the street as he walked from his car to the house... careful not to
slip and spoil his beautiful tuxedo... he imagined the surprised look on
everybody’s faces as he entered the house.. “Steve!” as they took in the tux
(and the haircut)
“Yes, Steve... Steve Bond”
If only someone had told him that the change in venue
also meant that everybody was invited to come in jeans or casual clothes... so
that those less resourceful wouldn’t feel peculiar....
But now, this year... this year would be different.
Steve could never measure up gift wise... His sisters would buy him clothes with labels
that Steve couldn’t read (which is how they often ended up in the wash with his
jeans... never to be worn again). Last
year, his brother bought him a Flat Screen TV... apologizing that it was only
37 inches (11 inches bigger than his old one)... he got his sisters bath salts
and a Simon and Garfunkel DVD for his brother.
The Concert in Central Park may have been 27 years ago, but it was still
good. And affordable.
Everybody loved their gifts... but Steve knew that they
didn’t compare... he was tired of being a Shepherd when everybody else was a
Magi.
This year... Steve got a bonus at work.
$3,000.
Maybe not a lot to his brother... but a lot to him.
He thought about saving it...
He thought about paying off his student loans a little
faster...
He thought about taking a little vacation...
He considered buying 1500 Lotto 649 Tickets...
But then he decided to buy presents for his family.
Presents like they bought him every year...
He went to the Shops at Don Mills and spent $300 on
designer Vinegar for his sister, the wanna-be chef...
He bought a coat for his fashonista sister... at some Archaeology
place that he’d never heard of... so it must be good.
He bought for his Mom and Dad... not sure what to get
them, because up to now the only way he knew how to shop was to look for
something in his price range, not something that might knock their socks off... he wondered “WWJD”: What would John do?... and as if channelling
his brother, he bought his parents, his and her silk Pyjamas and Velvet
Robes....
And for Johh... his inspiration and his hero... his
downfall and his nemesis.... his brother... an $800 bottle of wine! (you knew
that John would be wine connoisseur).
Steve also managed to buy a few things for the cousins –
a first for him – and spent a whole evening wrapping everything up
perfectly. Pink bows for the girls, Blue
knots for the boys... and bubble wrap for the bottle..
The next morning he packed everything carefully and
lovingly into his 96 Corolla and started the drive to Ottawa... the smell of a
Tim Horton’s Double Double fillling the car... the sound of Christmas Carols
filling his ears...and what surely must be “joy” filling his heart.
He would get to his parents about dinner time on
Christmas Eve... time for a meal and then a Christmas Eve service with Mom and
Dad... and the party on Christmas Day.
The party when he would finally fit in... he had the
right clothes and nobody would look outside to see his car. He knew the words to all the Christmas Carols
– he had been practicing. He would not
be asking his aunts to dance, but he had gifts for them... gifts for the whole
family... finally they would know how much he loved them... he would measure up...
he would really be part of Christmas...
Driving along the 401, Steve saw a big pet shop in one of
the malls... and was inspired. He’d do
something extra special that no one had ever thought to do before... he’d get
something for little Tina’s Guinea pig... that’s love! Remembering somebody’s pet... Brilliant.
He got off the highway, parked the car and all but
skipped into PetSmart... checking the aisles until he found a tiny set of
reindeer antlers, sized for a Guinea Pig.
Nothing says Christmas like a pet in plush antlers...
$11.95 and he was on his way...
Singing as he went out to his car...
Over by the lamp post..
Other lamp post..
Near the front of the store? That can’t be right...
At the end of the row??
Steve looked for his car... the one with an empty Tim Horton’s cup in the
cup holder... the one with the Christmas Carols playing on the radio... the one with $3,268 in gifts for everybody...
the one with his salvation packed neatly in the trunk and back seat.
It was gone.
The police were too busy to come to the scene.
Mall security drove him to the Police Station.
Paper work was filled out...
Sad pathetic looks were exchanged... Sad tidings were in
store...
There was no comfort... No joy...
Steve caught a bus into Ottawa.
Got in around 2 in the morning.
Slipped into his parents house... into the guest room...
In the morning, he couldn’t bear to face his parents...
or watch the hordes descend upon the house for Christmas breakfast... Christmas
lunch.... finally, Christmas Party and dinner... so he slipped out and went to church (it was
affordable).
God hated him.
He’s blown it.
He would never understand Christmas
He would never be able to express his love in a way that
his family would understand.
He would never fit in...
he shouldn’t have taken the bus back to Toronto instead of Ottawa.
Then heard the Christmas Story... the one that we hear every year about a pregnant
unmarried teenage girl, some confused shepherds, unbelievable angels and foreign
visitors called Magi... he heard about
people who didn’t fit in... he heard about a journey that was dark and
bumpy.... he heard about things going wrong... he heard about gifts... he heard about God revealed in a small, vulnerable
child....
He spent most of the day at church... not because he
didn’t want to go home, but because he wanted to hear the story again (he
seemed unaware that there is a take home version of the story as well)... but he did make it to the party.
And at the party, Steve didn’t take his cue from the
Magi... and he didn’t take his cure from the Shepherds.... he knew that he
didn’t have the wardrobe to be an angel...
he, instead took his cue from the child, the baby... Jesus.
Steve dared to be naked and vulnerable.... He told
everybody his story... he laughed and
cried as he told it... so did they.... and then, he went around and embraced his
family... each one, even Tina once she put down her Guinea Pig with the
Reindeer Antlers (the one gift that was not lost) ... one at a time and he
would whisper to each member of his family what made each of them so special to
him... and then he told them, “I love you”
He would probably have years when he was a Shepherd at
Christmas again... he might even get to be a Magi one of these years – but
nothing would ever compare to the Christmas that Steve dared to take the story
seriously and become Christ-like himself... naked and vulnerable. For the first time – Steve finally “got”
Christmas
