The object of our hope draws nigh. We wait for the Baby and the promise of his coming. Our world has always been a troubled sea. Our little boats toss and rise on the waves of life and then return to their level position, sometimes with a terrible thud. Our furniture is askew. The sail has been shredded. Our clothes are soaked and torn from the storm. We watch for the elusive promise of peace.

When MJ Aaron, Jonathon, and the much younger Old Man visited First Presbyterian Church in Carbondale, we felt welcome. It was close to time for the trimming of a massive Christmas Tree in the Narthex. The joy of Christmas beamed from the friendly faces. Soon it was time for our first Christmas Eve Service. It began at 11:00 pm. It felt like a Charles Dickens Christmas Story. I could see Tiny Tim in the corner singing with all of his yuletide heart. Pastor Richard preached like an old-time pastor in Victorian England. The historic church was packed. Then came the candlelight singing of Silent Night. An enduring Christmas Memory. There was an aura from Heaven in the Sanctuary. The permanence of Christ’s coming resonated in the words. I felt renewed and ready to welcome the Advent of the Baby.

So we wait. Not with mean or hurtful words. We wait with acceptance and appreciation for the Gift. Someone showed us the way. Not retaliation but love.

We returned to our little home in Elkville with our hearts full of the Christmas Spirit. The feelings from the Christmas Eve Service stayed with me for some time. Christ is about helping those who need help. We had found a church home. We were accepted and felt the Christmas Eve experience. The vision of Victorian England and the hope that A Christmas Carol brings to our modern world. Poinsettias and garland, nativities and wreaths adorn our little church. We need a little Christmas right this very minute more than ever. Candles at the window and in our hearts as we wait for a change of hearts and minds and our continued journey home.

One week away. We watch and wait. Some old, some young wait for the promise. Christmas is a much-loved holiday. The pervasive joy of the season permeates all society. For many years, MJ and I attended more than one Christmas Party. Jo Ann and Peter had a lovely, large Christmas Tree. Jo Ann liked Christmas Mice Ornaments. One holiday season, we searched high and low for the elusive yuletide mouse. Then we returned later in the week, just before Christmas, for a gift exchange. A fun holiday event with Maker’s Mark and Diet Coke, and Dirty Martinis.

Stumble, we move toward home. Advice on reaching our goal is as varied as snowflakes. No two opinions are alike. Some believe that many are called, but few are chosen. They take ecclesiastical pride; they are the chosen. Others cry out Lord, show me the way.

‘This will be a great Christmas,’ Chet said with a holiday grin. ‘The Christmas Movie at the Orpheum Theatre was Miracle on Thirty Fourth Street,’ Chet continued. ‘I swear if I did not believe in Santa Claus before, I do now,’ Chet laughed. ‘Santa came to our house earlier in December and sat on our sofa,’ Chet noted with satisfaction. ‘He called me Chet and knew Dad’s name was Carol, and when he said it, he began singing a Christmas Carol,’ Chet winked. ‘As he sang, his head elf Charles joined in on harmony,’ Chet noted. ‘Santa told me to watch for him on Christmas Eve,’ Chet said.

‘This year will be different,’ Santa told the elves as they began loading the sleigh. ‘Life’s Path has been especially rocky and rough for many,’ Santa continued. ‘Children are shut away from their friends and neighbors in fear and dread of meeting new and different people,’ Santa noted. ‘The kids spend hours looking at their screens and engaging in Social Media, believing much of what they see and read,’ Santa warned. ‘Kids are forgetting how to be kids and grow up as worried neurotic young people,’ Santa said with a tear in his eye. ‘This Christmas Eve, we will leave bicycles and camping equipment, compasses and binoculars for the housebound kids,’ Santa laughed so hard his belly shook. ‘Warm coats and leather outback hats, mittens and heavy socks for the joys of winter and building a snowman,’ Santa cackled. ‘Invitations shall be sent to every girl and every boy for dinner with Mom and Dad every evening if they want to enjoy Christmas next year,’ Santa danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Civics will be emphasised and public service,’ Santa noted. ‘It will be Santa’s Assignment for all kids to make a new friend that is different from them each week of the New Year,’ Santa smoked his pipe, and the smoke encircled his head.

‘We will learn the meaning of one for all and all for one,’ Neva J proclaimed. ‘No longer will the lame sit at the side of the road waiting for help, now they shall be our friend and valued for their humanity,’ Neva J said. ‘We will form a Christmas Carolers group and bring the joy of the Holidays to many homes,’ Neva J laughed. ‘We shall turn the anger of small men off and love each other as the Babe in the Manger loved us,’ Neva J said with gusto.

One week away. Soon we will light the last Advent Candle. Our minds are settled as we wait for the big day. The weather is lush. The air is spring-like. There are whispers and knowing nods regarding the brilliantly wrapped gifts under the Christmas Tree. A glimpse of Santa was caught at the Christmas Dinner in the Woods. Mr Badger and Mr Mole hosted a feast for those who could not go home for the Christmas holidays. The poor of the land came by engraved invitation. They talked profusely, having been lonely for some time. Santa and Mrs Claus brought warm coats mittens, neck scarves, and winter boots. Leather Outback Hats for the men and boys, and Christmas hats for the women and girls. Hope lit up the eyes of the party attendees. There was a change afoot. Things would be different for them in the New Year. Badger and Moley had built them little houses in the Woods. The little houses were warm as toast. The refrigerators were stocked with food, and the pantries were overflowing.

‘This Christmas will be special as we help the hopeless,’ Jane said. ‘No longer will the poor have to pretend not to be homeless and just rest in the rest areas around town,’ Jane advised. ‘Tommy L is coming to Christmas Dinner as well as Rosie and Abigail,’ Jane said with a smile. ‘They will sit proudly at Neva Js Christmas Table,’ Jane proclaimed. ‘There will be roast goose and Figgy Pudding along with sausages and meat pies,’ Jane laughed. ‘No one shall be reticient or ashamed of their financial condition, all will be the same and honored guests,’ Jane noted.

‘Rosie, will you say the blessing?’ Neva J asked? ‘

‘Today you are a Baby in a manger,’ Rosie said. ‘I did not believe in you until Neva J showed me your love,’ Rosie continued. ‘I used to be so lonely that I talked with myself. Now I have many friends to talk with,’ Rosie said. ‘I was embarrassed by my poor clothing and the little house I lived in,’ Rosie continued. ‘Today I am rich with love from many, with Neva J being the saviour of my loneliness,’ Rosie said with a laugh and a wink. ‘I am accepted and no longer am I afraid,’ Rosie said softly.

‘Tommy L, will you join me in a game of pool on my miniature pool table in my bedroom?’ Billy B asked. ‘Since I saw the movie based on Minnesota Fats, I have been fascinated by pool,’ Billy B. continued. ‘I heard from Jimmy A that you play a mean game of pool…a hustler,’ Billy B noted. ‘I also understand that you play the tenor saxophone, which is what I play, and I am sure you know of Boots Randolph, so we shall have a Christmas Jam Session,’ Billy B danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Yakety Sax is my favorite Boots Randolph song,’ Billy B said with aplomb.

‘Today is a day of firsts,’ Abagail said with tears in her eyes. ‘My husband and I were famous on the Vaudeville Circuit and well known in New York City,’ Abagail noted. ‘We performed before Presidents and Potentates with ease and delight,’ Abagail continued. ‘A terrible car wreck took my husband’s life and my right eye,’ Abaibgail noted. ‘I was emotionally distraught and retreated to Eldorado, my hometown,’ Abagail noted. ‘The kids and some adults called me One Eye and made fun of me as I limped along the little streets of the Southern Illinois town,’ Abagail said. ‘Neva J is my friend and sees not the hole where my eye used to be nor my poor garments,’ Abagail noted. ‘I am a queen in her home, and she is an angel to me,’ Abagail proclaimed.

‘Rob Reiner spent numerous hours in our homes,’ Chet said. ‘He brought joy to us and thoughtful ideas for our understanding. He was a mensch. He helped those he met. A good heart and a good man,’ Chet continued. ‘We laughed with him, we understood his humanity. Kindness begets kindness love begets love understanding begets understanding. May his memory be blessed,’ Chet said.

It was the days when mattresses and boxsprings blew onto the middle of the road. The days of a field fire on the way home from the Woods. The deli counter had no one to cut the deli meat at 10:30 AM due to the meat cutter being on a 30-minute break. When the Old Man returned at 12:15, the butcher had departed once again for his fifteen-minute break. One of those days that had a bit of a cloud of mystery engulfing it. Not bad, but different.

Christmastime is here. The days grow short the old year ends, and the New Year begins. The long-term weather forecast is temperatures in the 60s on Christmas Day. We were single digits on Sunday. It pays to have your traveling clothes on and your overnight bag packed.

It is the days of watching the skies for answers. The northern lights made an appearance recently in Carbondale. Signs and wonders, the Old Man thought. What did the eclectic members surrounding the Manger think as they welcomed the Baby? The old words promised a king forever after the order of Melchizedek. The Promise lay in front of them in swaddling clothes, surrounded by sheep and animals of the field.

Turmoil, strange days, and trouble buffet the human family. We want to give the impression of having it all together and being fully in charge of our little boat on the stormy sea. Often, this is no more than a mask painted with a large smile. We wait for the birth of the promise of peace. We wait for the Peaceable Kingdom.

Freedom of thought and speech is important. A leader who exhibits crulety and venom, hate and acrimony, is not good. We are made out of the same stuff. We all hurt and suffer tragedy. Never rejoice in another’s suffering. The road home is clear at Christmas. Multicolored lights illuminate the path. There are Santa’s elves loading the sleigh for the trip a week away. Kids’ hearts and kids at heart are having a spring in their step and laughter in their mouths. The time of gift-giving is near. The time of commemorating the gift of the ages is upon us. Our pain seems less this time of year. We will sort it, as our English friends say. Sorting it is really what it’s about. Being a servant/leader is the goal. Help the person next to you who has lost a loved one. Lend a hand to the sick and the lame. Leave no one behind, as we all must go home.

The cold wind cut like a knife. A shock to the system. Winter is here in all of its glory. Passing cars, drivers look at the Old Man in the winter Woods. The Lodge has closed for the season, and the road block is up, yet the Old Man persists in his Woods Walk. Is he possessed by the spirit of the Wood Gnomes that are being searched for? Did he have a pre-Christmas visit with Santa Claus? He wondered if the toys would be enough this year. So many are in need. Many children were hungry and lacked basic winter essentials, such as coats, gloves, and winter hats and scarves. Was there still time to purchase some mittens and snow shoes for the kids?

Time passes like the winter wind. It waits for no one. It is not a respector of calendars nor plans. The Old Man had been thinking of Christmas since July. He liked Christmas in July. Christmas twice a year would please him. The fall arrived, and joy abounded. There were hayrides and hot cocoa, Jack-O-Lanterns, and the headless Horseman. Thanksgiving was a special treat with Jennifer Lee, Annelise Ron, and Ira Kaye. A Black Friday Holiday Cigar or two made the day complete. Grand Rivers, Kentucky, afforded a lovely family Christmas with the Tennessee Brooks. Two-inch pork chops in a private Victorian Christmas-decorated dining room made the time special.

Now Christmas is 10 days away. Soon it will be here and gone, and I will verbalize my Christmas wish on January 1st, because Christmas has not yet occurred this year. So, like all of our brief lives, we wait for the hope of our hearts. Perhaps you may not have thought how important Christmas is to millions. Many wait to address serious medical conditions until the New Year.

We sing the Christmas spiritual: ‘Sweet little Jesus Boy, they made you born in a manger/Sweet little Holy child, didn’t know you’d come to save us, Lord to take our sins away.’ ‘Long time ago, you were born, Born in a manger low, Sweet little Jesus Boy. The world treat you mean, Lord, Treat me mean too, But that’s how things is down here – We don’t know who you is. You done told us how, we is a tryin!’ ‘Just seem like we can’t do right, look how we treated You. But please, Sir, forgive us, Lord – We didn’t know twas you.’

So we are trying and waiting. Christmas brings the hope of all things. We look into the Baby’s eyes to see beyond the Veil. We know there is more than we realize. We look through thick cheesecloth at our future. We peer through a glass darkly. The shepherds see the Star in the east. Their hearts are full of expectation and joy for the future. ‘For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour who is Christ the Lord. You shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger because there was no room for him in the Inn.’

Mean words are often uttered by powerful leaders. Think little of it. The plan is already underway. ‘Nation shall rise up against nation, but the end is not yet.’ ‘Men shall be lovers of themselves more than lovers of God.’ Help us, Lord, as this applies to most of us.

‘We didn’t know who you were.’

Jesus turned over the money changers’ tables and fashioned a whip out of cords, we proclaim as we advocate for Christ for the few.

‘We didn’t know who you were.’

Let the homeless and hungry, including their spawn get jobs. They are among the Great Unwashed and unrecognized.

‘We didn’t know who you were.

Today it is cold. Bitter cold. A day to forgo the Woods Walk. A day to stay in the warm Den. Uno is our new game, taught to us by Morgan. It is fun, easy, and fast. Do not forget to call out Uno. Brooks Pond is icing over, only to thaw by mid-week, when temperatures will return to the 60s.

Time is fluid. You can not hold on to it. There is Aunt Vema and Uncle Ed after Christmas dinner at Neva Js, laughing and talking about heading back to Stonefort before darkness fell, while Vema chain-smoked. Neva J was in her Christmas glory. She had been preparing since Thanksgiving for the big day. What appeared to observers from afar to take a day or two of preparation required a month for Neva J. The Old Man thought of Christmas Vacation from school and visits to the Orpheum Theatre. He thought of Scrooge and Tiny Tim and the moral of the lovely story of Victorian England. He played with his new miniature pool table, which he fit into his small bedroom. The pool table and the 12-inch black and white television represented Christmas Nirvana. Billy B had his own sense of place in the midst of the country home of Neva J. The coal/wood stove adjacent to the kitchen was cherry red with fire for the entire house. Box fans assisted in the heat distribution of the antique stove.

Aaron and Jonathon’s eyes were bright with Christmas surprise. They had received a Nintendo 64. They could not believe their good fortune. MJ and I marvelled at the technology whereby you could play baseball on the television screen. It was a Brave New World. Granda Fernie and Grandpa Berl would be arriving soon. Granpa Earl and Grandma Neva J would be bringing the smoked ham, and Neva J would enjoy multiple shots of rum when she arrived. The large Christmas Tree was festooned with blinking bubble lights and silver garland. Rum Cake and box wine were enjoyed by the 24 people enjoying the Christmas Mystery in a warm four-room house. There was laughter and song as everyone talked at once. We were rich in spirit and the Gift of the Magi. Life was a riddle revealed at Christmas. A Blo-Mould Nativity sat next to the Japanese Maple Tree in the front yard. Jesus, Mary and Joseph were lit with the light of the Star of Bethlehem. The fine Porcelain Nativity purchased by MJ and the Old Man sat in a seat of esteem. It was their proudest Christmas possession.

The lake effect winds of Chicago blew with Christmas passion. Billy B, Neva J, Ivy Susie, and Steve attended the movie Lady And The Tramp. People were everywhere. All were carrying brightly wrapped Christmas Packages. Billy B was overwhelmed. He wanted to live with the Darling family and be a part of Lady and Tramp’s life. Christmas morning, he sat under the humongous Christmas Tree with Neva J and his Dad Bill. They looked so happy. Billy B had Laughing Santa on his lap. Laughing Santa was his constant friend.

We exchanged Dirty Santa Christmas gifts with Marcy Brock, Jaime Morgan and Jeb. I received a glass inscribed with Brooks. I love it. MJ received a coffee cup with drawings of male genitalia. She loves it. We dined in a private dining room with Victorian Christmas decorations, and it was wonderful. Jeb and I laughed about the two-inch pork chops. We thought next time perhaps the inch pork chops would be sufficient. We stopped for a Whisky shot pour and had a ten-dollar shot. It said Christmas Angelic Joy. The name of the Whisky was Angel Envy.

So how does this time of year give us such enduring memories? We see each other through the eyes of the Baby in the Manger. Our preoccupied human eyes receive the Balm of Gilead. For a time, we know our purpose. We understand our mission. The fog clears. It really is about the birth so long ago in a barn with the Wisemen and Shepherds. It really is about the Promise and the Mystery.

The Old Man felt the temperature drop. He could feel it in his bones. Old Bones feel the cold more. The Christmas Woods were quiet except for their inhabitants. Winter is just the time for sleep. The time of joy was coming. The time of the Peacemaker. The time of the lion and the lamb. Chill factors below 0 require woolen pajamas and warm house shoes.

We seek that which we have lost. We seek home. We are unmoored and feel unwanted because we have lost our home. The place that connects us to society. The place that links us to others. Our Sanctuary of rest, thought, and sense of place. No matter how much we travel, there is no place like home.

Our nation is in a quandary and a battle over the home. Who shall be home in the United States? Are we the Great Experiment where we are the Home for the Homeless? ‘With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.’

So many ships are untethered. They are not secured to the boat dock. The cold winter wind blows hard, tossing the boats about. The lake wind is bitterly cold. How will the boaters have Christmas dinner if they can not stay secure to the dock? The cookery will break in the confusion. Confusion breeds discontent and worry.

‘Come to the Christmas Feast,’ Mr. Toad cried aloud. ‘We are having figgy pudding and roast goose,’ Mr. Toad laughed and danced. ‘All are welcome, no one shall be left out,’ Mr. Toad proclaimed. ‘It has been a difficult year with many seeking a Home,’ Mr. Toad said with a tear in his eye. ‘They have been told that they were not wanted and to go back to where they came from,’ Mr. Toad said sorrowfully. ‘They have been fired for no cause and given no reason,’ Toady noted. ‘They were told they were not the right color as if love has a color,’ Toady said softly. ‘I am green as all of my ancestors were…we are a proud green from a proud lineage,’ Toady said as he pulled out a cigar. ‘We shall smoke Christmas cigars and pop Christmas Poppers and pray for all, including the president who says we are from ‘Shit Hole Countries,’ Toady said with some holiday cheer. ‘We will follow the example of Bob Cratchit and pray for Mr. Scrooge,’ Toady noted.

So we are on the journey. Some of us have been walking for a while. Others are new to the trek. Each year, we renew our commitment to find our way home. We have been a bit lost. The city lights and the joys of influence and money cloud our eyes. If we make more, we will have more. We start out wanting more. The more we say about society’s goals. Give us deeper pockets, the funeral director ordered funeral suits for his clients. The Star shines bright in the Christmas sky.

The shepherds say Follow us. The Wisemen say the same. ‘For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.’

The road is strewn with hard stones to walk on. It requires good shoes and a keen eye. Along the path, we see those who have fallen by the wayside. Does anyone care? Once we stumbled and could not get up without the aid of another. The helplessness of our condition was profound. We consulted with our Guardian Angel and found a way to return to the journey. It is good to be back in the race. Many are the tortoise to the more fleet of foot hare. We seem to be stuck in place when we are moving to the sound of our own drummer. The timpani, the drum, beats consistently in our march to see the Baby.

The Christmas Scene is set. The sheep and oxen laugh at their good fortune. They are the first witnesses to the Desire of the Ages. In came Mary Joseph and the little sweet Baby. Angels stood guard around the barn where Christ lay in the manger. The religious leaders of the day were not there. They had no invitation. The poor of the land, the humble, the meek, witnessed the quiet birth of Jesus.

The man lame in his feet leaned on the healthy young leader. The blind took the leader’s hand and saw through his eyes the destination. Hungry children ate the fish and bread the smiling leader provided. His eyes were like infinity, and his voice sounded like a rushing stream and a flock of doves.

The singing angels assisted the millions on the path to home. They sang We Three Kings as they helped those who had stumbled and fallen and could not get up.

Here we are again. Christmas is in the air and on the airwaves. The trees in the Woods bow before the coming Christ. The clouds have on their festive attire. Mr. Badger is wearing his Christmas Vest and has his Santa Pocket Watch in his vest pocket. Mr. Mole is tidying up as the big day approaches, as he is hosting Christmas Dinner. The Deer are bringing pumpkin pie. Mr. Toad is bringing the firecrackers.

The winds of change are blowing. So many are without food or warm clothes. They sleep in tent encampments close to the Warming Center. The man sits nodding at the Walmart picnic table, a meager plastic bag holding his Christmas possessions. He seeks the holiday spirit from his Camel cigarettes. If it were not so cold, he would sleep a little. A forlorn forboding permeates his eyes. A world weariness for the yearly promise of better things and peace on Earth. Peace to him is a decent meal of soup and bread and a cot to sleep on indoors instead of the tattered tent.

Happy children exit Walmart with Switch IIs and expensive Christmas gifts. They laugh when they think of surprises and mysteries awaiting them on Christmas morning. There will be plum pudding and roast goose. Also figgy pudding and a warm fire in the fireplace. They know not fear or want. Their fat cheeks are rosy aglow with the message that the Baby Jesus came to Earth because he loves all the little children of the world. Red, yellow, black, and white are all precious in his sight. The Christmas Stockings hung by the chimmeny with care are bursting with Christmas Joy.

The poor black man lit another Camel and puffed reflectively. He had grown up in a house full of life and love at Christmas. He danced about the Christmas Tree with delight on Christmas morning. Mama made Christmas Coffee Cake and fudge for Christmas. Daddy recited the Christmas Story and gave the man his sisters and brothers’ pocket knives for a Christmas remembrance. Daddy was a mechanic and worked on the big rigs in Chicago. He rode a Harley Davidson motorcycle and wore a leather motorcycle cap. He laughed easily and often. The old black man’s dad and mother divorced, and the old man went to live with his Dad. Dad had lost his way. Dad spent the day smoking Camel cigarettes and waiting for a ride to town to buy more. The old black man got into a little trouble with the law. Nothing major, but he did a year in the Penitentiary. Everything changed for him when he was released. He had been to Mechanics’ School, but no one wanted to hire him.

‘Let’s invite all of the forgotten and homeless to a Christmas Feast,’ Jane said with glee. ‘A kind word of Christmas Joy is what they need and a demonstration that someone cares about them,’ Jane said. ‘We can do what the government will not,’ Jane exulted. ‘We will bring them to Mr. Badger’s and Mr. Moles’ Christmas Dinner in the Woods,’ Jane sang. ‘We will have a large table where no one is lesser or greater,’ Jane laughed.

‘Welcome to my home, Clyde. I have heard so much about you,’ Mr. Mole said with a broad smile. ‘I have made Christmas Coffee Cake like your Mom used to make, and there is fudge too,’ Mr. Mole said with a Christmas Dance.

A powerful wind blew. Cold air was arriving. The trees were bare. The Old Man braced against the chill. He walked with determination and Christmas resolve. The Woods Animals followed with dancing and song. Some sang Silent Night while others hummed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

There were only two weeks left until Christmas. There were surprise Christmas gifts to buy. Had he forgotten anyone? Christmas held a special place in the Old Man’s heart. His fondest memories centred on Christmas with Neva J, on their days of plenty and days of poverty. First, as a middle-class family in Chicago living on a street and in a home reminiscent of the television show Leave It To Beaver. In the blink of an eye, it reversed to him and Neva J not having enough money for milk. Yet Neva J always found money for a happy Christmas.

Laughing Santa was always there for the Old Man in his youth. He laughed heartily in the good times and the bad. His face was a mischievous grin. There was a Christmas Movie at the Orpheum Theatre, where the Lions provided Christmas Gift Baskets for each child. The Baskets were resplendent and included a Soaky, which contained bubble bath and came in many comical figures such as the Three Stooges.

More money is needed for necessities. Affordability is a real issue, not a scam. Many good people from both political parties will be unable to pay for health insurance in the New Year. ‘Are there no poorhouses?’ Scrooge asked.

The Spirit of Christmas Present is watching. Who is cold and who is safe and warm? The Spirit of Christmas sees all humanity as God’s Children. Mary and Joseph found no room in the Inn. The barn was the birthplace of Christ. The sheep were there and the oxen. They held their heads high, smiling as the Spirit of Christmas was with them in the form of a little Baby in a manger.