Reflections

New Year's Eve has arrived and it is during this time we often reflect on what has happened and set our hopes for the future.

As I look back, it has been a difficult year in our family. We lost my mother to ovarian cancer around Valentine's Day, we lost my father-in-law to heart disease around Halloween, and I had the worst MS relapse ever just before Thanksgiving. With all these challenges I kept asking the question, "What am I to learn from all this?". Sometimes the answers were quick and obvious, other times not so much. The problem was even with what I thought the answers were, these events still left us rattled and emotionally drained.

After Thanksgiving is when we typically deck the halls in our house. Christmas is everywhere and it always put a smile on all our faces. With the recent loss, and my just starting the recovery process from my relapse, I just did not have the energy or the desire to decorate. I did manage to bring down a tree from the attic, but it stood in the corner with only it's lights and a couple random ornaments we had received as gifts. I lit it a couple times, but it still did not bring the warmth and happiness it usually did.

Since we had experienced so much drama over the last few weeks, we had decided this year to not celebrate Christmas in the traditional commercial sense of the word. Since we did not decorate, buy presents, send Christmas cards or host a get together; we were going to let Christmas come and go and slip quietly into the night. After a number of conversations, we decided instead of hunkering down and pretending Christmas was not occurring, we would escape to the beach. We got up early Christmas morning and with our car packed, we made our way to a new tradition. The drive took our mind off the normal trappings of Christmas. We did not miss opening presents under the tree, we did not have to plan a big meal that would take hours to prepare, but be consumed in minutes, and we did not sit around reminiscing about Christmas' past. Instead we listened to carols on the radio and found traffic to be very light as we made our way to the beach.

The beach provided a nice respite from the hustle and bustle of the season. We enjoyed everyone's decorations, we had breakfast at the Waffle House and found Christmas cheer in those who were working that day, and went on an adventure to find where in the world we were going to eat dinner. Later, as we walked the beach, we enjoyed the warm spray of the sea and playing with our dog as he chased his favorite toy. Christmas this year was new and different. We left our escape on Sunday and patted ourselves on the back for finding a nice alternative to our traditional celebration.

Once we got home that evening, neither of us felt like cooking, so I ordered a large cheese pizza from our local pizzeria. I arrived a few moments early and started looking over the magazines in the lobby. We have a local paper called, The Crossroads Journal. When I opened it and started reading, I was struck by one of the lead articles about a Christmas tree and a person named Stubby. Stubby is not a name you hear often, and it carries special meaning to me as it was my father's nickname. My Dad was 5'5" and a little stout, so the name fit. The other interesting note about my Dad is every Christmas, while he worked at the Toy Castle, he played Santa Claus. As I quickly glanced at the article, I was told our pizza was ready and I quickly put the paper down. Despite the quick read, it had stirred fond memories I had forgotten.

One those years my Dad was playing the jolly old elf, he had received a visit Jack Wyrtzen and Harry Ballback. Jack was very involved in The Word of Life Ministries in NY, and Harry was a missionary to Brazil. They both approached my Dad about going to Church. Jack would later share that story as part of his own ministry. Reading the name Stubby again in a place so far from where Jack's story to place, took away the emptiness of this Christmas and filled it with a warm nostalgic memory of Christmas past. I left the pizzeria a little lighter and more at peace than I had felt in weeks.

My hope then is for everyone to have a wonderful New Year and each of to find that same warm feeling from memories past. When you do, hold on to it and let it fill you with happiness in a time where happiness can be in short supply.

Although I am now Presbyterian and no longer hold to the particular religious view of my Dad's story, it is still a wonderful story of hope. Below is the story as it was printed in the Word of Life publication.

The toy store was packed with bright toys for Christmas, but one of the biggest thrills was a telephone connected directly to Santa Claus at the North Pole. The kiddies were making the most of it; but in a pause when they were busy elsewhere, Don Robertson couldn't resist the urge. Don is a Word of Life evangelist with children of his own. He picked up the phone.
"Hey, Santa," he said, "We're having evangelistic meetings at the Town Hall her in Claremont, Hew Hampshire, every night this week. How about coming tonight?"

Santa replied with a hearty "Ho-ho-ho!" and a cheerful "Maybe!" and added that he thought he would have to be on the job every night in the Christmas rush. So Don and his buddy Harry Ballback, Word of Life missionary to Brazil, prayed that night for Santa Claus.

At the first meeting of the Campaign on of those who received Christ as their Savior was an attractive young housewife. Don and Harry called at her home the next morning to encourage her in her new found faith, and met her husband, jovial, plump Winston Matthews. When they invited him to the meetings, he roared with laughter. "I know all about those meetings fellows," he said; "you see, I'm Santa Claus!"

Although his job kept him from attending, Santa's wife took him to church after Christmas, and there - for the first time - he really heard the gospel of salvation through Christ. He kept coming.

"One Sunday night," Matthews told it later, "I felt the Lord was speaking to my heart. I realized I was a sinner and needed Christ. When Pastor Warren Biebel gave the invitation I accepted Christ into my heart. It was the most wonderful thing in my life." And that was the night that Santa Claus got converted.

but the story doesn't end there. "I wanted others to hear the Word of God and have salvation too," continued Matthews. "I invited my brother and his wife to church, and the first time they came they accepted Christ. A week or so later my sister and her husband came to hear Larry Doyle, another Word of Life evangelist. They too opened their hearts to Christ. Then cam my co-laborer, and later one of my wife's friends, and they were saved. The following summer we all went to Word of Life Camp in New York's Adirondack Mountains.

As for me, I'm a Sunday school teacher now. My wife has a Bible club in our home and has won many boys and girls in the neighborhood to Christ. We just wish we could do more for Him, for He has done so much for us."

Santa Claus, sad to say, has become the symbol fo Christmas in pagan America. But behind the mask of the "jolly old elf" as we see him in department stores and on street corners there is the heart of a man -- unhappy, lonesome, a sinner, longing for lasting joy and peace.

And what is true of any "Santa Claus' is true of everybody: no matter how outwardly jolly or prosperous he may appear, there is a void in his heart that only Christ can fill. That is why the Lord Jesus says to you, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:29). Do you want this joy and peace? Then do as Winston Matthews did -- confess to God that you are a guilty sinner in need of forgiveness, and invite the Lord Jesus to come into your heart and take possession.