Tag Archives: Christmas

War can exhibit signs of humanity

Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman is reported to have said that “War is hell.”

The Union officer was right. No one who’s ever been to war disputes the utter hell and misery associated with humankind’s most hideous action.

Occasionally over the centuries, though, combatants have demonstrated that because war is waged by human beings, that their humanity can present itself on the battlefield.

One hundred years ago, British and German soldiers laid down their weapons during World War I, the so-called “Great War” and the “War To End All Wars.” They reached across the zone littered with the corpses of men who had fallen in battle.

They held hands and sang “Silent Night.”

http://abcnews.go.com/International/wireStory/christmas-1914-day-wwi-showed-humanity-27733586

“Not a shot was fired,” Lt. Kurt Zehmisch of the 134th Saxony regiment wrote in his diary that first Christmas of World War I.

The Associated Press reported: “On the other side of the front line, Pvt. Henry Williamson of the London Rifle Brigade was amazed by the goodwill among his enemies. ‘Yes, all day Xmas Day & as I write. Marvelous, isn’t it?'”

I get that war never is noble. It’s never glorious or glamorous. Its brutality defies human imagination.

It’s also waged by men — and now, women — who are doing the duty their nation requires of them. They answer the call to fight for their nation. Their devotion to duty doesn’t make them evil.

Of course, that was then. War was different — not necessarily better — than what we’re seeing today, with men committing atrocities, broadcasting their actions around the world and then boasting about the cruelty they exhibit.

The event that occurred on that Belgium battlefield 100 years ago, though, demonstrates how humanity can present itself on a field stained with combatants’ blood.

Yes, war is hell — but even this version of hell can be made peaceful, even if only long enough to sing a Christmas hymn.

A Christmas to remember forever

When you live long enough, you develop a storehouse of memories along the way. Holidays are a special time for remembrance.

Christmas brings back so many memories for me and my family. Going back to childhood, the year I got my first bicycle stands out. My sister and I were opening presents Christmas morning. We finished opening the gifts under the tree. Dad asked us to pick up the paper and take it to the garage. We fiddled around. Dad then told us to do it. We dilly-dallied some more. Then Dad barked at us: Take it out to the garage!

That’s when we discovered our bikes. Oh, the joy!

Fast forward to the winter of 1996. My wife and I had moved to Amarillo less than two years earlier.

It was on Dec. 22 of that year, 18 years ago today, that we closed on a house we had built — or, more to the point, that the contractor built for us.

We found a lot in southwest Amarillo. Development on the street had just begun. Ours was the fourth house on the street. Work began in mid-October. The weather had been mild and dry for the next two months.

Presto! The house was done. We signed the papers. We’d made arrangements with a local moving company to haul our worldly belongings out of storage and into our new digs.

This all happened in the span of one full day, Dec. 23.

Two days before Christmas. Our house was done. The furnishings were in the designated rooms. But boxes were strewn everywhere.

We had a few Christmas packages. Our sons would be coming over.

A couple of days before we closed on our house, my wife and I went to the storage unit where our stuff was kept and she looked around and announced to our belongings, “OK guys, just a few more days and you’ll be coming out of here.”

We didn’t get the house decorated for Christmas that year, quite obviously. But we did have a tree. It was a 3-foot-tall Norfolk pine that we had brought with us from Beaumont in early 1995. My wife rummaged through some boxes and found a string of lights.

We wrapped them around the tree, placed the packages under it, welcomed our sons over to our still-box-strewn house — and had the most wonderful Christmas imaginable as we rediscovered belongings that had been in storage. Some of it, frankly, I had forgotten we even owned.

Yes, Christmas is a time for memories. I wouldn’t recommend moving into a new home so close to the holiday. Then again, I wouldn’t trade the memory of that experience for anything in the world.

 

Staying ready for Christmas

The question comes to me — and everyone else — every … single … year.

“Are you ready for Christmas?”

Upon making a pact with myself some years ago to avoid the “hassles” associated with Christmas, I initially found the question a bit awkward. I’d come up with some kind of semi-catchy response, although I no longer can remember what I’d say.

These days, my answer is simple.

Yep. I’m ready. I’m always ready. I stay ready. I was born ready.

In fact, my current response is taken from something a friend of mine down Beaumont way, the late Gene Dumatrait, used to say. He was always “ready” for anything. You name it, Gino was ready for it.

Back to my point, which is that Christmas is something for which I always am ready. I spend very little time worrying about anything this time of year. Indeed, the holiday shouldn’t be about getting prepared for things. I choose to take time to reflect on simple pleasures, on the many blessings I have … such as my family. I want to consider the real “reason for the season,” which Scripture tells us is the birth of Jesus.

I no longer concern myself with getting “ready” for Christmas.

I’m not denigrating others who get caught up in the hustle, bustle and sometimes tussle of this holiday time. That’s their call to make and more power to them.

Me? I’ll just go with the flow.

Isn’t Christmas a time for joy? I intend to have a joyful time of it.

 

Merry Christmas … and let's bomb Iran?

Lame-duck U.S. Rep. Michelle Bachmann chose a fascinating venue to lobby the president of the United States to take military action against Iran.

She was attending a Christmas party.

At Christmas party, Bachmann lobbies Obama to bomb Iran

Yes, the TEA party favorite was celebrating Christmas with the president and his family when she broached the subject of Iran.

The Hill newspaper reports that Obama gave her a condescending look and then laughed, according to Bachmann.

Imagine that.

I am trying to imagine a less appropriate occasion to bring something like this up to the commander in chief. A state funeral comes to mind.

A Christmas party — at the White House — ranks right up there in the ranks of inappropriate times and places to talk about bombing a stated enemy of the United States with the man who’d order such a mission.

A part of me rather wishes Rep. Bachmann was staying on for the 114th Congress. She’s so darn entertaining.

A bigger part of me, however, is glad she’s leaving. I’m glad for the people of her congressional district, who in my view will benefit much more when they’re no longer represented by this clown.

 

Welcome to Black Friday

One of the many nice aspects of my part-time job at Street Toyota/Scion is the interaction I have with interesting customers.

Two of them came to our service department this morning. They are foreign-born. I asked them, “Where do you come from?”

“The Philippines,” the wife said.

We chatted a few moments. I asked them where they live; they reside in a small town north of Amarillo. She’s a medical professional, he is a contractor.

I asked them about the service we were doing for their vehicle. The gentleman told me they brought their truck in for a recall and some other maintenance. “Oh, do you think it will take some time?” I asked. He said “Yes, I think so.”

I told them we could transport them wherever they want to go if they didn’t want to wait.

Then the conversation got rather entertaining.

Husband: “Well, we were thinking about going to the mall, but it’s closed today, correct”?

Me: “Ohhh, no! It’s open. It’s been open for some time. Probably before the sun came up this morning.”

Husband: “Really? I thought today was a holiday.”

Me: “No, no, no. Yesterday was the holiday. We celebrate Thanksgiving every year at this time. Today is the start of the Christmas shopping season. (Westgate Mall) is quite crowded today.”

Husband: “Oh, OK. Well, I didn’t remember that.”

I then sought to explain to his wife the meaning of Black Friday. I believe she understood how I explained that businesses look to make a sizable profit today from sales of items. She asked if there would be “lots of price cuts.” I said, “Quite possibly, yes.”

With that, they walked across the street to a sporting goods store to do some shopping. They returned about an hour later, informed me that “It wasn’t too crowded over there,” then said they wanted to go to the mall.

I flagged down one of our drivers, Mark, and told him where they wanted to go. “Don’t tell me the mall,” Mark said, laughing loudly.

The couple stood up, walked out with the driver and the wife turned, smiling broadly, and waved good bye.

“What’d I tell ya?” I said. “Good luck.”

Welcome to Black Friday.

 

Looking back on an incredible journey

The world, or at least about a fourth of it — the Christians among the world’s people — is getting ready to celebrate the birth of a baby who would come to symbolize salvation, grace and victory over death.

My own thoughts at Christmas every year since, oh, 2009, have turned to an amazing journey I was honored to take through the Holy Land. I was given the honor in May-June 2009 of accompanying four young people on a Rotary International Group Study Exchange trip through virtually all of Israel. Fernando, Aida, Shirley and Katt have become four of my closest friends and I cherish them more than they know.

We spent four weeks there traveling from Nahariya to Eilat, to Tel Aviv, Sderot and Ashkelon, to Nazareth and Caesarea, the Dead Sea and Masada. It was an amazing time. Then, after the exchange had concluded, I spent another week with my wife who had flown over to join me as a tourist. We spent the bulk of our time in Jerusalem, visiting holy sites.

But I think of that journey now every year at Christmas time and remember the things we saw along the way.

* Nazareth and the Church of the Annunciation, where the angel told Mary she would give birth to the Son of God.

* Bethlehem, where my wife and I visited the Church of the Nativity and the Shepherds Field.

* The Temple Mount, where Jesus preached.

* The Mount of Olives overlooking Jerusalem and Via do lo Rosa where Jesus walked.

Easter, of course, marks the end of Jesus’s life on Earth and the resurrection we celebrate.

This day, though, is to remember his birth.

I’ve believed my entire life in all that is holy about this holiday. However, being able to see those places up close and to walk the paths trod by Jesus himself makes it special beyond all measure.

Christmas is time to suspend barbs

Let’s agree to suspend the barbs until after Christmas.

However, allow me this brief observation — sans criticism — regarding the ethnicity of Jesus Christ and Santa Claus.

The issue surfaced when Fox News talking head Megyn Kelly posited the notion that both Santa Claus and Jesus were white. My first thought: Who cares? My second thought: Why is Kelly even going there?

I have no answer to Thought No. 1. I frankly don’t care about Santa’s ethnicity, other than to remind Kelly and others who do care that the jolly old man — don’t let your kids read this — is a fictional character based vaguely on an actual man. Santa Claus is whatever we want him to be in our household. That’s the beauty of Santa. As Francis Pharcellus Church wrote in that wonderful editorial to Virginia O’Hanlon in the late 19th century, he exists in our hearts.

The stuff about Jesus, though, is a bit more substantial. Anthropologists looking for clues to Jesus’s appearance generally have concluded he was a dark-skinned man who looked very much the way men do in the Middle East. Having spent some time in Israel — five weeks in May-June 2009 — I can say without a doubt that the vast majority of Palestinians and others of Arabic descent have roughly the same look.

Israelis who descended from European immigrants are another matter. Some are blue-eyed blondes, some have dark hair and eyes, others have features in the middle.

And why did Kelly venture this notion — from which she retreated a little — that Santa Claus and Jesus are white men?

One word: ratings.