Monthly Archives: December 2018

Bring on Christmas

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I confess that I like Christmas. I typically resist all things popular, but if that ever happened with Christmas it won me over anyway.

The attraction surely has nothing to do with massive commercialization; nor do I need a specific holiday season to remember the birth of Jesus. Red and green are not my favorite colors. I’m pretty sure I would choose fasting over fruitcake and egg nog. And although falling snow is undeniably a beautiful sight, I would easily choose a warm-weather locale to a winter wonderland.

I still really like Christmas.

There is a hard-to-identify loveliness to the season—a “mood” as Howard Thurman once described it. Words like joy and peace define Christmas, actions like giving and singing are ubiquitous, and it is a time both to remember and to hope.

I grew up in a tiny house with a wonderful family and not much in terms of material possessions. Still, we celebrated Christmas each year, and I always had presents to open. I distinctly remember the time my Dad rushed in a couple of weeks before Christmas and breathlessly exclaimed, “Santa Claus was just here! He was in my bedroom!”  Well, away to my parents’ bedroom window I flew like a flash, and as fate would have it, I just missed seeing Santa. But he had obviously been there since a huge gift-wrapped present was there with my name on it! To this day I cannot believe Santa was able to sneak that massive present in our tiny house in broad daylight without getting caught.

Did I mention it was a tiny house (with, for illustrative purposes only, no room to store a large present for a couple of weeks until Christmas)? And did I mention that I may have been a rather naive child?

I love imagining today the laughter my parents shared alone in their tiny bedroom that night. (And since the gift was a set of drums, I love knowing that someone else had the last laugh. That Santa is such a jokester!)

I am ready for Christmas.

Now, when I walk through the house and see our tree, it calls me back to Christmases past and propels me forward toward Christmases yet to come. Time marches on. My parents are now gone, my sisters are now grandmothers, and my daughters are now adults. But very soon my wonderful wife and our wonderful daughters will be together to celebrate that special day together and make more memories for future smiles.

Bring on Christmas.

Personal Book Awards for 2018

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“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.” – Dr. Seuss

One year ago I shared the following: “I counted twenty-five books that I read in 2017, which is easily the most I have read in a very long time, and predictably more than I will read in 2018.” Well, here stands yet another reason not to pursue professional gambling: Last week I completed my twenty-fifth book in 2018. That’s over 7,000 pages this year, my friends. The total number of books is the same, but there was greater variety in the genres chosen and I’m pleased to see more fiction on the list: I always intend a 50/50 split but never even come close. This year was at least a step in the right direction.

Books written by friends are always favorites, of course, and I was honored to read Les Ferguson’s book, “Still Wrestling,” this year. Of the rest, I would bestow the following four awards:

HARDEST BOOK TO READ THAT I’M GLAD I READ: The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James Cone (referred by Ray Carr)

HARDEST BOOK TO READ THAT I’M GLAD I READ BUT WOULDN’T RECOMMEND AND NOT BECAUSE IT IS 834 PAGES LONG: A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (referred by a former student)

BEST COMBINATION OF HUMOR & INSPIRATION: Born a Crime by Trevor Noah (referred by my wife and a gift from my oldest daughter)

BEST GUILTY PLEASURE READ: Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (referred by Chris Doran)

But awards aside, I am glad that I read every book. Well, maybe one exception, but I’ll keep that to myself. 🙂 Here is my full list for 2018:

Books written by friends (1 this year; 6 last year)
Still Wrestling by Les Ferguson, Jr. (208 pages)

Novels (6 this year; 3 last year)
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (417 pages)
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner (267 pages)
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (834 pages)
Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse (237 pages)
Where the Line Bleeds by Jesmyn Ward (230 pages)
Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (254 pages)

Sports (3 this year; 3 last year)
Tales from Out There by Frozen Ed Furtaw (224 pages)
The Phenomenon by Rick Ankiel & Tim Brown (304 pages)
The Curse: The Colorful & Chaotic History of the LA Clippers by Mick Minas (558 pages)

History (1 this year; 1 last year)
I Will Fight No More Forever: Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce War by Merrill Beal (384 pages)

Biography/Memoir (3 this year; 5 last year)
Born a Crime by Trevor Noah (261 pages)
Promise Me, Dad by Joe Biden (210 pages)
Cotton Patch for the Kingdom by Ann Louise Coble (240 pages)

Theology/Church (8 this year; 6 last year)
Cadences of Home: Preaching among Exiles by Walter Brueggemann (176 pages)
Overrated by Eugene Cho (240 pages)
Barking to the Choir by Gregory Boyle (224 pages)
Trouble I’ve Seen by Drew G.I. Hart (198 pages)
The Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight (240 pages)
The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James Cone (224 pages)
Christians at the Border by M. Daniel Carroll R. (176 pages)
You are What You Love by James K.A. Smith (224 pages)

Poetry/Essays (1 this year; 1 last year)
The Kindness of Strangers – edited by Don George (272 pages)

Writing (1 this year; 0 last year)
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (re-read) (272 pages)

Crime (1 this year; 0 last year)
Missoula: Rape and the Justice System in a College Town by Jon Krakauer (384 pages)

Star Searching

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“Christmas comes during a season when the Earth is in its darkest time.”
– Melissa Etheridge

We have three Christmas parties on the calendar this week and three more next. I used to make fun of such things, but not this year. This past season has been rough, and we are more than ready for a season that is merry and bright.

So do what you will, but I suggest: Decorate the tree. Play the music. Bake the cookies. String the lights. Wrap the presents. Wear the sweater. Watch the movie. Mail the cards. Hang the wreath. Dream the dreams.

Does this make everything magically wonderful?  No, I’m afraid not. Is it simply an act of denial? Well, not necessarily. What I’m suggesting is to look despair in its face and proclaim hope. We will not live in the darkness forever. There will be light. We expect it. In fact, we are counting on it.

I am reminded each year that the story behind the Christmas season does not actually feature Jimmy Stewart. Instead, it is of a displaced family in a barn delivering a baby in a feed trough—and against all odds that turned out to be the hope of the world.

There were a few wise dudes back then with enough hope in their hearts to scan the night sky for a star. They spotted it right away, and I suspect it’s because they were looking for it.

So join me in some star searching this year. Because this year I’m going to look up so that I can see it, too.