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On October 4, 1943, Bing Crosby recorded a song that captured the imagination of millions of Americans. Within three weeks it was on the top music charts, and remained there for 11 weeks. A year later, it returned to the charts again. Since then, it has been recorded by nearly 250 artists. It was the first song broadcast into space, and remains to this day one of the most cherished songs of all time.
Remember, the entire world was galvanized in a world war, and hundreds of thousands of American soldiers were in Europe, Africa, and the Pacific fighting for our future. Nearly the entire country was unified behind our fighting men.
The name of the song – “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
Something about Christmas makes us want to go home, or at least to be somewhere with people we care about. [click to continue…]
(The 12 Ways of Christmas, Part 10 – The Way of Mourning)
Joan Hightower was a force of nature. At least that’s what the folks in Savannah would tell you.
Need something done? Calling Joan is like money in the bank. Problem solver, morale officer, executive earth shaker – no challenge seemed too big. She could plan the battle, lead the charge, cheer on the troops, bandage the wounds and make the refreshments – all with a convincing, contagious can-do attitude.
A 16-year veteran of widowhood, this impressive package of inspired living could run circles around women half her age. And men? Joan would just laugh. [click to continue…]
‘Tis the season. . . to roll your eyes whenever somebody starts something with “’Tis the season!”
Anyway…
This is the season to give, give give! Toys for Tots, help for the homeless, marches for missions, and then, of course, those never-ending shopping lists.
With all the emphasis on giving, how about a nice change of pace? You’ve heard that God loves a cheerful giver. Well, guess what givers like? Cheerful receivers!
Did you know it’s possible to actually motivate someone to be thoughtful and generous, to feel good about themselves and you? It all comes when you learn the wonderful art of being a good receiver. Here are seven ways you can do that: [click to continue…]
(The 12 Ways of Christmas, Part 9 – The Way of Searching)
Kevin Hunter stared into the darkening eastern sky as he negotiated the city’s freeway traffic. Busy enough because it was Friday afternoon, the holiday season only made New Orleans driving more congested. The take-no-prisoners aroma of the Folgers Coffee plant and the looming I-10 high-rise bridge gave Kevin all the sensory evidence he needed…
The Big Easy would soon be in his rearview mirror, perhaps forever.
The irony of Daughtry on the radio was more than Kevin bargained for as he reached for the “search” button:
I’m staring out into the night, trying to hide the pain.
I’m going to the place where love and feeling good don’t ever cost a thing.
And the pain you feel’s a different kind of pain.
Well I’m going home, back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me…
[click]
…apples are a natural breath neutralizer…
[click]
Traffic backed up on the Huey P. Long Bridge, delays up to…
[click]
I know your still searching. Uh huh. You searching for love. Uh huh. You searching for peace. (That’s right!) But you’re never gonna find what you’re lookin’ fo’ till you find what the Wise Men found! Wise men still seek Him!
[click]
Kevin gave up on auto room noise and settled into the quiet, dusky stillness as the double row of taillights escorted him over Lake Pontchartrain. It seemed odd to be making this journey on this day – his 30th birthday. It had been two years since he’d been to Pensacola – longer than that since he’d celebrated Christmas at home with his parents. But the urgency in his mother’s voice and the crumbling life around him made it clear – like it or not, it was time to face the music.
And the Man. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 8 – The Way of Sharing)
(Note: Last year I started a series of stories titled The Twelve Ways of Christmas. Hopefully this year I will complete it. If you’d like to go back to where it all began, click here.)
K-Mart. It was the one place in Oak Ridge that David Carpenter knew would still be open Christmas Eve as he observed his years-of-time-honored tradition of last-minute shopping. Having made his way down every single aisle (also an annual ritual) and tossing in unique stocking stuffers, David now stood waiting his turn in the checkout line.
Behind him, Maria Martinez laughed with her brother Aaron as the two of them had gathered some last-minute items themselves. Aaron had a handful of stocking stuffers for his two boys; Maria was delighted that her niece, Sophie, would be joining the large family celebration. She was also excited that her new job as a lab technician had finally enabled her to be as generous with her gifts as she’d always been with her 22-year-old heart. Both were oblivious to the nicely-dressed man who waited and watched in front of them.
David watched as the random assortment of items passed across the scanner. The monotone beep of the cash register intruded on the sound of Brenda Lee singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” on the in-store sound system. Lightly touching the end of his items, a pretty red plaid little girl’s dress with a white turtleneck shirt glided across the conveyer belt. With one part of his mind, David could see where this was headed. With another, he was lost in thought as he gazed that the tag that read in bold letters, 4-T. [click to continue…]
Dear Carrie,
Sorry you weren’t here for your birthday (hope things are going well in Kenya).
But we wanted you to know we celebrated anyway.
We got this cake, exchanged presents and gave festive cards in honor of the occasion.
The family got together for a wonderful meal, and there was a picture of you somewhere, just to remember the REAL reason for the season.
I know it must feel really odd for people to celebrate your birthday and hardly mention your name.
So I took care of that. I put it on the cake!
Season’s Greetings! YO HO HO!
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 7: The Way of Warfare)
December 23
The first thing Ryan Fisher felt when he awakened was an obnoxious cold wind, pelting his face with sleet. The searing pain coursing down his legs and across his chest further aroused him. Opening his eyes, he saw movement outside, but the angle of his SUV in the ditch made it difficult to tell what was happening. One thing was sure – the distant siren and flashing lights were for him.
Another thing became certain pretty quickly. Assuming he lived, Ryan Fisher would spend Christmas alone. There’d be no plane to catch, and nobody boarding a plane back to Birmingham. Not in this storm.
It was the end of the day from hell, punctuating the week from hell, capping off the year from hell. And now, freezing and in shock, Ryan Fisher closed a mental door. He was done. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 6: The Way of Reflection)
“Livie, why did you teach Lit?” Katie asked her grandmother, eyes rolling with attitude.
“Because I wanted to teach high school kids, and they made me pick a subject,” the bright-eyed woman said with confidence. “Anyway, they already had a football coach.”
Olivia Driver opened the door to her guest room, parted the curtains, and opened the blinds to let the morning sunlight in. Though it was early, her straight, silver hair looked beautifully radiant, as always. Her trim frame and purposeful pace revealed an energy that defied her 78 years. Olivia was on a mission. Today she had planned (she always had a plan) to get the boxes and paper from the closet and start wrapping gifts. This would be a Christmas to remember. All her children and grandchildren would be there, along with those three adorable great-grands.
And this would be Olivia Driver’s last Christmas at her home of 34 years.
January would bring changes, and it was all Olivia’s doing. Four years after her husband’s death, she had decided to sell the house and move to a nearby retirement/assisted care community. She had already completed a thorough inventory, planned an estate sale, tagged the furniture and other items she would move with her, and scheduled the move-in. Only one keep-or-toss decision remained for this retired Literature teacher. And in the streaming sunlight, it caught her eye.
There at the foot of the bed was a large cedar chest, covered by a beautifully-crocheted afghan. Throughout her grandchildren’s younger years, Livie (that’s what they called her) had invited them to explore the Chest of Wonder. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 5: The Way of Watching)
Ken Johnson’s answer had become automatic, though dead-on accurate. Whenever someone found out he had flown helicopters for the army in Viet Nam, they would often ask, “So what’s it like to be a pilot in Viet Nam?”
“Months of boredom,” Ken would say, “followed by 15 minutes of sheer terror.”
Ken’s military training, and his subsequent years as a police detective, had made him an expert at noticing things that others were oblivious to. He would pass a random building in a strange city and mutter, “Somethin’ not right going on in there.” He could spot and usually identify one of 18 different kinds of smiles, or when an interviewee was lying or hiding something. But none of his experience or training, including the gritty lessons learned from a failed marriage and some very tense relationships with two of his adult children, could have prepared him for this.
Somebody took a shortcut to Ken Johnson’s heart. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 4: The Way of Waiting)
For Scotty Thomas, Christmas was cruel. What other word can you use to describe living in a house where Dad enforced a hard-nosed rule: Christmas presents were for Christmas day?
“But can’t I open just ONE?” Scotty would ask.
“No,” his dad would say, smiling.
“I think I know what this one is,” Scotty would say, shaking a wrapped present under the tree.
“Think all you want,” Dad would reply. “You may be right. You may be wrong.” Inevitably for Scotty, it was a little of both.
Like any good 8-year-old, Scotty also had razor-sharp radar for any kid who seemed to get a better deal. Jeremy Walker got to open the give from his sister a day early. Jeff Dunaway opened family gifts the weekend before Christmas day. But Scotty’s appeals landed on stone.
As Scotty grew older and wiser (age 10 now), he became more sophisticated in his approach. If he couldn’t win by appeal, he would conquer by steal. Scotty set out on a mission to find hidden “treasures.”
Snooping through his dad’s workshop and in the attic, Scotty hit the mother lode a full 10 days before Christmas. A new bicycle, video games, a skateboard, some table games, a basketball, a couple of posters for his room, a wristwatch… this was going to be an amazing Christmas.
It turned into the worst 10 days of Scotty’s young life. [click to continue…]
On October 4, 1943, Bing Crosby recorded a song that captured the imagination of millions of Americans. Within three weeks it was on the top music charts, and remained there for 11 weeks. A year later, it returned to the charts again. Since then, it has been recorded by nearly 250 artists. It was the first song broadcast into space, and remains to this day one of the most cherished songs of all time. 
