what's it all about, alphie?

Vid Way Tuesday
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Sometimes, we gotta ask questions. Sometimes we gotta hear the answers. Sometimes we gotta get through the fuzzies, and let the light of truth be shown. Just as in the Trinity, truth has 3 parts, so does this event: 1 - incarnation, 2 - crucifixion, 3 - resurrection.
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'CLICK' on the > above, then really Celebrate the day!
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To all my friends and family and neighbors and blog-buds ... a very Merry Christmas and God's richest blessings ... show the world that today makes a difference to you!
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who put the "W" in 'Christmas'

Your Way Monday
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The following was sent to me by a friend, Missy Hathaway. Thank you, Missy.
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The "W" in Christmas

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.

I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant."

I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation.

All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then. Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down.

Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.

Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.

Those in the front row- center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.

As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."

The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W".

The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".

Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.

A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:

"C H R I S T W A S L O V E"

And, I believe, He still is.

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Tonight is the night - God Bless You All !
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"A date which will live in infamy." - FDR

Heart Way Friday
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It is a little over two weeks until Christmas. We still have time to get packages and letters and cards on their way to members of our armed forces. They are stationed around the world for us, and for others. Remember them this Christmas.

The following poem was sent to me by my friend Missy Hathaway. Thank you Missy.

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A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..

Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
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There is snow on the ground here, maybe 4 - 5 inches overnight. It helps it feel a little more like Christmas is coming soon. I hope we can make it feel more like Christmas to our loved ones away from home.
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I also invite you to look at a story at the very bottom of this page.

Is SALAVATION ARMY 'a second chance' to help?

Want to be invisible? Ring bells at a Salvation Army [SA] kettle at Christmas time. I'm not kidding. It is like you don't exist.

For 23 years this coming Christmas, I've been ringing bells at Salvation Army kettles before Christmas. I love it. However, the majority of people who approach me look right past me like I didn't exist. I greet every passer-by; I try to be right friendly. People react in different ways, but typical is the 'ghost' response ... they pretend to not see me - and amazing how many people don't hear that bell, either. I didn't know there were so many deaf and hard-of-hearing people around.

So what keeps me going back year after year? "Second chances!" Yep; its the occasional miracle that happens right before my eyes. This past year was no exception. Take a load off your feet for a minute - set a spell and listen to my tale.
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Typical weather for the last two weeks before Christmas: cold, wet, spitting occasional snow flakes, breezy, uncomfortable - some years it is below zero and the heavy snow falls. I tend my kettle with care. I greet passers-by. I play Christmas carols on the portable cd player I bring along with me, hoping it will brighten others' spirits. I dress in 3 layers of clothing to stay warm and dry. I ring my bell to attract attention. I do all these things in hopes of raising a few extra dollars so the Salvation Army can help others in need during this special season.

My location is just outside the main entrance to a large supermarket - part of a regional chain. I have the opportunity to accept offerings from people as they enter and as they depart. Fortunately, some will stop and drop in their lose change - and occasionally someone will drop in paper folding money. I've worked at this location for, I don't know, somewhere between 8-10 years I guess. The vast majority of those passing by ignore me ... they ignore my greeting on entering ... they ignore my "Have a Happy Holiday" or "Merry Christmas" as they depart ... they ignore the attraction of my bell ... they ignore my red kettle which contains the meager hope a better Christmas for the ones the Salvation Army helps each year.

I am successful at making eye-contact with maybe 1/3 of them. I sincerely want to help them look interiorly for a moment and wonder why this stranger is standing our here in the cold and damp, ringing a bell for hours - I want them to think "If he is out here, there must be a reason." If they go that far, they may be inclined to drop their change on the way out. I think I grate on their conscience.

I AM A GHOST - I DON'T EXIST - I'M NOT HERE !

The ones with small children in tow are the ones I enjoy most. Mom or dad prepares to walk on by without acknowledging my presence - but the little ones see me and say 'hi' or wave at me ... then mom or dad tells them to 'Come-on, get over here, get inside...", all without lifting a head in my direction. There's something about looking at me that makes them afraid they'll fall under my magical powers and force them to see the kettle and force them to acknowledge the obvious - they're living well, and others are not - and they're not prepared to do that.

Every once in awhile the BIG one comes along ... the one that makes the year memorable. Here is last season's.

I'm standing there ringing my bell. A woman approaches with a young girl, 10-12 years old, in tow. Mom never looks at me, never acknowledges me. The little girl says 'Hi' and keeps going, following mother into the store. As the young girl gets to the entry door of the supermarket she stops. She turns around comes back toward me. She is bundled-up for the weather, gloves and all. She approaches me - I greet her with something like "Well, how are you tonight?" She doesn't respond immediately - she's trying to take off one of her gloves.

About this time I look to my right and note that mom has now seen that her daughter is not behind her any longer ... and mom is already inside the market. Mom turns on her heel and is immediately coming out the exit door.

The young daughter has now removed her glove and is reaching into her coat pocket. Mom is approaching and half-screams at her daughter, "What are you doing!?!" The daughter doesn't respond to mom - she doesn't look her way or anything. She is intent on what it is she is about to do. The mother stops short and in a half-fit observes.

A small coin purse is produced from the young woman's coat pocket; she opens it, removes a piece of paper money, and dumps some loose change into her hand.

"Mister, is this enough to buy some kid a Christmas present?", she asks as she extends her hand toward me. I observe a crumpled up One Dollar bill and a small amount of change. "It certainly is!", I reply, and direct her where to put the money in the slot on top of the kettle.

I look over towards the mother, expecting to see a woman in a rage. Instead, I see a grown woman weeping at the miracle unfolding before her eyes and in her previously hardened heart. As a matter of fact, I almost tear-up every time I relate this story - like now.

The little girl walks the several paces to her mother and remarks, "I just bought some kid a Christmas present." The mother stoops a little, gives her daughter a big hug, and smiles at me - me, the ghost. She lets go of her daughter, opens her purse, comes over to me and the kettle, finds and parts with several pieces of folding money. I have no idea of the amount, but it is HUGE compared to what she put in the kettle on her first pass.

So, there it is - my witness of an annual Christmas miracle. Every year there is at least one such event that speaks to me deeply of the reason I stand out there. Even if I am a ghost, I get so juiced-up doing this thing with the bell and kettle and all.
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How do you feel about the Salvation Army? I read a recent article that stopped just short of saying we should not give to them. The reason? The writer claims the Army is long on helping, but short on doctrine - and doctrine has to trump everything.

Here in our county, the SA is one of the largest 'agencies' helping the poor. Other agencies make referrals to the SA. Is that enough to be an organization that you can support in good conscience?

Is their policy towards counseling women in an unwanted pregnancy one you can agree with? I questioned the local leader about this issue brought to my attention. His reply, "We are an international organization. We operate hospitals in many countries. Elective abortions are not performed in any of our hospitals." OK - but how do you counsel regarding abortion. Is stressing the seriousness of the procedure being considered enough? "Our counselors' first concern is the woman they are counseling." Hmmmmm - not the baby?

Now, can you still drop money in their kettle? I can.

Can you you ignore the 'good' insisting on the 'perfect'? I can't.

What say you?