The Blessings of Christmas and Chanukkah 2005
Good Morning Freedom Fighters and Truth Seekers,
We returned from Phoenix last night after the passing of my Mother in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve. She slipped away in a peaceful way to join family and friends who have gone before. We said a special prayer that our two dogs, Snoopy and Peppermint Patty would be there to give her lots of kisses and snuggle up close as they for us for so many years. Ninety two years and 25 days was a full and rich life for this woman who touched so many lives with her beautiful smile and loving attitude.
We will return to Phoenix tomorrow in preparation for the service on Tuesday morning that will be my great joy and honor to lead. While there is a touch of sadness at her passing, there is also great joy and knowing that her physical challenges of the last several years are behind her and she has a whole new "body" with magnificent wings.
"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say," returned the nephew: "Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round—apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that—as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they were really fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"
-- Charles Dickens, from A Christmas Carol
"Christmas reminds us we are not alone. We are not unrelated atoms, jouncing and ricocheting amid aliens, but are a part of something, which holds and sustains us.
As we struggle with shopping lists and invitations, compounded by December's bad weather, it is good to be reminded that there are people in our lives who are worth this aggravation, and people to whom we are worth the same. Christmas shows us the ties that bind us together, threads of love and caring, woven in the simplest and strongest way within the family."
-- Donald E. Westlake
http://SuccessNet.org/scards/holiday-blessings.htm
Dear God,
There is only God, and there is no place where You are not fully present.
As I affirm this now, I feel the quickening, the stirring of the life-force within me, lifting me up and giving me the guidance and joy that my soul longs for.
There was a birth 2006 years ago that is continually recreating itself in the minds and hearts of Your sons and daughters everywhere on the planet …and beyond!
Let me experience this Christ-birth in the womb of my own soul.
Let me make that long-past happening real for me in this very moment.
Let this Christmas be different from all others! Awaken in me now!
Amen.
We can do no great things...only small things with great love.
-- Mother Teresa
The Christmas Stranger
The spirit of the holiday came to her home just when she needed it most.
By Natalie Walker Whitlock
Excerpted from "A Christmas Filled with Miracles," by Mary Ellen Angelscribe. Used with permission.
December was especially bleak; the weather was cold and dark, reflecting my feelings. I usually welcomed this time of year, savoring every minute of the holiday season, but this year it was different. Financial worries weighed heavy on my spirits, and my husband David worked grueling hours to make ends meet. There was always too much to do and too little time. Too many needs and too little money. Moreover, I had struggled with post-partum depression since the birth of my fourth child a few months before, and it made Christmastime especially tough. It seemed every glad carol and glittering ornament mocked my despair.
Thankfully, my children seemed unfazed by my less-than-jolly attitude. They carefully penned their letters to Santa and made red and green paper decorations for our spindly Christmas tree. I didn't want to spoil the holidays for them, yet I felt entirely justified in feeling sorry for myself.
Day after dreary day blurred together until suddenly it was Sunday, December 24. I was alone with the children, as David worked yet another Christmas Eve at the hospital. An empty sadness filled my heart as I dressed and readied my family for church, attending more out of habit and obligation than desire.
If I had expected some renewal from the service, it wasn't to be, and I couldn't wait for it to be over. Being in the presence of so many happy people was almost more than I could bear.
After herding the kids into the car, I charged homeward, anxious to finish the day's preparations. In my haste, I accidentally passed our usual turn-off. As we detoured down the unfamiliar street, I noticed an old man up ahead. He walked with a pronounced limp, and he struggled to carry a heavy grocery sack. Suddenly, inspiration overcame discretion--and going against caution and my better judgment--I pulled over.
"Hello," I called through the open passenger's side window. "Can we give you a lift somewhere?"
The stranger hesitated before answering, taking a long look at my kid-packed station wagon. "Sure," he said carefully.
After he settled into the backseat, I asked him where he would like to go.
"I don't know," he replied quietly. Before I could reply, my children had invited the shabby stranger to our house for dinner.
"I suppose you could come over until you figure something else out..." I muttered.
As we drove, I introduced myself and my children. Our passenger introduced himself simply as "Richard."
As it turned out, Richard truly was a stranger--just passing through town on his way to nowhere in particular. He lived wherever nightfall found him. All that he owned he carried in an overstuffed shopping bag.
Once home, my children had no trouble warming up to our visitor, but getting Richard to open up was like cracking a vault rusted shut by years of disuse. Yet, they persevered. They gathered around, asking him question after question, prodding and prying until his history and its neglected cache were slowly revealed to us.
We discovered that Richard had served in two wars, worked on the railroad, and hitchhiked across North America. He had lost his sweetheart and young son many years ago in the same accident that left him crippled. Afterward, he bounced around from job to job, and ended up homeless and fighting an addiction to alcohol.
"What if we hadn't given Richard a ride?"
This Christmas found Richard a physically and mentally broken man. Richard's hard life and years on the streets were reflected in his careworn face. His appearance was haggard and dirty. He coughed frequently and smelled faintly of whiskey.
And yet...my children saw none of this. They gathered around him, asking question after question. They listened eagerly and treated him with the familiarity of a long-lost relation. Where I had seen a pitiful stranger, my children saw a kindly old man. They saw in Richard a fellow human being who could love and be loved. They saw a friend.
When dinner was ready, Richard ate like he hadn't had a meal in days. I pretended not to notice when he tucked an extra piece of bread in his coat pocket. Afterward, I invited him to rest in the big recliner; he was sound asleep before the dishes were cleared. While he slept, I undertook the business of finding Richard a place to stay for the night. But who could I reach on Christmas Eve? Who would be available at this hour? As I had feared, the calls to each charity and agency were met with an answering machine or a terse "We're full."
When there seemed nothing else to do--save turn him out on the street--Richard became our guest for the night. Richard accepted the invitation and thanked us with the graciousness of a refined gentleman. He thanked me for the home-cooked meal, the pleasant company, and for the best sleep he'd had in years. Then he said good-bye to each child. It was a tender scene as they parted with their newfound friend.
Later, as I lay in my warm, comfortable bed, I contemplated Richard and his misfortunes. I was humbled as I recalled how that very morning I had been so pessimistic and ungrateful for my own abundant life.
My introspection was interrupted by quiet footsteps as my 6-year-old son appeared at the foot of my bed. "Mom, are you awake?"
"Yes, Jeffrey," I whispered.
"What if we hadn't given Richard a ride?" He asked pensively.
As a single shaft of moonlight parted the darkness of the room, illuminating my son's guileless face, I was filled with emotion. Then a lonely old man would have spent Christmas Eve cold and hungry, I thought, my eyes brimming with tears. And I said, "I guess we might never have known what a wonderful person he is." As I pulled my dear son close, the two of us shared a moment of eloquent silence, and I offered a voiceless prayer, Thank you, God, for sending us Richard.
When Christmas morning came, the kids were almost as excited to see Richard again as they were to open their presents. They begged and they pestered until I agreed to wake him. But, to our dismay and disappointment, Richard was gone. The room was left so neat, it almost looked as if no one had even stayed there. We never saw Richard again.
My family remembers that Christmas fondly. Even though Richard wasn't physically with us, he wasn't forgotten. Because of Richard, our Christmas was full of blessing and thanksgiving. And because of Richard, I found the hope and happiness I was so desperately missing. The spirit and joy of the holidays was never stronger than the year we opened our hearts and our home to a stranger.
"How many observe Christ's birth-day! How few, his
precepts! O! 'tis easier to keep Holidays than Commandments."
-- Benjamin Franklin (Poor Richards Almanack, 1743)
"The most important thing in any relationship is not what you get but
what you give.... In any case, the giving of love is an education
in itself."
-- Eleanor Roosevelt, American First Lady and social activist
(1884-1962)
"We should give as we would receive, cheerfully, quickly, and without
hesitation; for there is no grace in a benefit that sticks to the
fingers."
-- Seneca, Roman statesman, dramatist and Stoic philosopher
(4 B.C.?-65 A.D.)
"Unshared joy is an unlighted candle."
-- Spanish proverb
"No one who has ever learned to appreciate beauty will ever be poor."
-- Michael Josephson
"Join the great company of those who make the barren places of life
fruitful with kindness.... Your success and happiness lie in you....
The great enduring realities are love and service. Resolve to keep
happy and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against
difficulties."
-- Helen Keller, American social activist, public speaker and
author (1880-1968)
***
Commentaries by Michael Josephson
"That Means the Baby Is Not Dying"
One of my favorite stories tells of a man I`ll call Al who was
rushing home excited to tell his wife about a $1,000 bonus check
he`d unexpectedly received from work. Before he got to his car, a
desperately sad looking woman with a baby asked him for a few
dollars. She said her child had leukemia and was dying. He reached
into his pocket for some loose bills and accidentally pulled out
his bonus check. He looked at the check for a moment and then at
the woman`s baby. He endorsed it over to her, saying, "Use this
to do what you can for your baby."
When Al told his family what he had done they were not pleased.
His wife said, "I can`t believe you gave some stranger our money."
His teenage son chided him for being naïve. Al was hurt but simply
said, "I just thought she needed it so much more than we did."
A week later, his son came to him with an "I told you so" look
on his face. He showed Al a newspaper article about a woman with
a baby who had been arrested for scamming people in the area.
"This is the lady you gave the money to, isn`t it?" the son
asked disdainfully.
"Yes," the father replied, as he smiled broadly.
"What are you smiling about?" the son demanded. "You were cheated!
She made a fool out of you."
"Don`t you see?" Al replied, "This is wonderful news. It means the
baby is not dying."
Overwhelmed with affection and admiration for her husband, Al`s
wife said, "Your dad will earn other bonuses. Just be thankful we
have each other, our health and a truly good man we can all be
proud of."
Judging Our Own Character
The passing last week of one of the pioneer investigative
journalists, Jack Anderson, reminded me of my one and only
meeting with him many years ago. It was one of my first programs
as an ethicist.
My role was to question a panel of journalists in front of an
audience of radio and television news directors. It was the
pre-Clinton era, the beginning of the new age of no-holds-barred
investigation and discussion of the private conduct of politicians.
The event was prompted by the withdrawal from the presidential
race of Senator Gary Hart because he was caught having an indiscrete,
adulterous affair with a model named Donna Rice.
I asked the panel, "When is it proper for a journalist to report
about the private life of a public official?"
Mr. Anderson replied, "It`s got to be relevant to his job." Then
he added, "But we don`t always follow our own rules." I asked him
to explain, and he said: "Well, a few years ago a woman came into
my office and gave me an airtight affidavit that the mayor of
Tucson had bit her on the thigh. Now, I admit I didn`t think
this was too relevant to his job, but some stories are too good
to pass up."
So the high-minded standard of relevance was subordinated to the
lesser test of good gossip.
His comment revealed the gap that often exists between our "stated
values" -- the values we profess -- and our "operational values" --
the values we practice.
Many of us claim higher values than our conduct reveals. What`s
more, when we assess our own character we are often deluded by our
rhetoric and rosy self-image.
Thus, we tend to judge ourselves by our highest ideals and best
intentions. What we often forget is that others judge us not by
our proclamations or even our most noble deeds, but by our last
worst act.
Holiday Season Lament
"`Tis the season to be jolly." Oh yeah. Well, that`s easier said
than done. I confess, I`ve become a holiday-season neurotic. And
I wonder, is it just me?
I love the music, I love the decorations and I love the giving
spirit of Hanukkah and Christmas. But my life is bursting at the
seams with a daunting and growing list of business tasks and
personal chores, which I`m neglecting as I try to joyfully pursue
my holiday desires and duties by sending cards to and buying gifts
for a small army of family, friends and business associates.
I`ve become as neurotically insecure as Charlie Brown. I feel bad
about feeling like it`s a burden. I worry about finding gifts that
will be truly appreciated. Sure, I know it`s supposed to be the
thought that counts, but I`ve found it really helps if the gift
is something the other person finds desirable. I worry that I`ll
get something the gift-getter thinks is atrocious, useless,
redundant or simply too cheap.
I also worry whether the beneficiaries of my gifts will think I
spent enough time and money so that -- if it really is the thought
that counts -- it will count enough to convince them that they are
valued.
I even worry about the notes I write. I want them to go beyond the
standard clichés. I want each one to be personal, profound, clever
and meaningful as well as sincere and original. But I run out of
things to say, and I forget what I wrote the year before. I worry
that I`ll give the same verbal gift I gave previously.
I expect to be rebuked by listeners for having the wrong attitude,
but that will only make me feel worse. I think I`ll just put my head
under the covers and take a nap.
No One Is Too Poor to Give
When Teresa, a widow with four young children, saw a notice that
members of her church would gather to deliver presents and food
to a needy family she took $10 out of her savings jar and bought
the ingredients to make three dozen cookies. She got to the church
parking lot just in time to join a convoy going to the home that
was to receive the congregation`s help.
The route was familiar, but she was stunned when the cars pulled
up in front of her house. When the pastor saw her he said, "We never
expected you to join us, Teresa. We know it`s been a great struggle
since your husband died, and we all wanted to support you."
Though she was uncomfortable being thought of as the object of
charity, Teresa didn`t want to embarrass anyone so she cheerfully
said, "Well, at least I can share these cookies with our friends."
This parable teaches us that no one is too poor to help others and
that true charity is rooted in love and compassion. Poverty of
spirit is worse than economic distress. Teresa`s story reminds us
that very few of us give as much as we could and should.
My friend Larry Rosen, president of the YMCA of Metropolitan Los
Angeles, introduced me to the concept of "sacrificial giving" --
giving in abundance to a point where one must sacrifice something
that is desired.
You can start out easy. Take whatever amount you were thinking of
giving to charity this year, then double it. If that`s truly too
much, add 50 percent. The idea is to stretch yourself. It will mean
a lot to those you help, but it will mean as much to your own heart.
Cheerfulness Is Contagious
I just turned 63, and I`m not happy about it at all. It does not help
when people tell me you are only as old as you feel because even the
simple acts of getting up, sitting down or bending over to put on my
socks elicit a symphony of grunts and groans.
Why can`t I just follow my own advice about counting my blessings and
being truly grateful for the mountain of things I should be grateful
for? My glass is way more than half full. It`s not only shameful but
useless and boring to pollute my thinking or inflict others with
negativism.
One of my New Year`s resolutions is to stop self-indulgent whining
about getting older. As inspiration for my new attitude I need only
think of my mother and my dear friend Lauren Fair who were the most
cheerful people I`ve ever known. Though each fought valiant but
losing battles with ravaging cancers, they didn`t dwell on illness
or pain. They smiled more than they cried and joked more than they
complained.
It`s tempting to think that some people are just naturally cheerful.
But this is just as false as saying that some people are born to be
negative and grouchy. Attitude is a choice. Cheerfulness is not
simply an instinctive or spontaneous act of a person`s nature but
a conscious and courageous act of kindness. It`s a gift one chooses
to give to others.
Regardless of how I feel inside, I can choose the face I show to
the world -- and when I choose to be positive I`ll begin to feel
positive. And so will others around me. Because cheerfulness is
contagious.
This is Michael Josephson reminding you that Character Counts.
The Gift of the Magi in a Coffee Shop
My coffee guy always helps me start my day with a smile. One Christmas Eve, I decided to return his kindness.
By Eileen Mitchell
He greets me every morning from behind the coffee counter. Often, it feels like he and I are the only two human beings alive at the ungodly hour of 6:00 am. In the dead of winter, it’s still dark outside at that time, sometimes rainy and almost always cold. Faced with an hour-long commute from the East Bay to my job in Foster City, I schlep into the coffee shop in a semi-vegetative state. I need that jolt of caffeine to wake me up, especially when I’ve stayed up too late the night before, hooked on a Law & Order marathon or anxious to finish reading, for the third time, "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn".
My coffee guy is always smiling, always cheerful, even though the counter he works behind is just yards away from the front door and subjects him to cold winter winds each time a customer enters the shop. This store is a franchise and he’s not the owner. He’s just a college student at Las Positas and probably earns minimum wage at best. Still, he greets each customer like a long-lost family member. I never need to remind him what my favorite drink is or how I like it prepared. The minute I enter the shop, he smiles and calls out, “The same?” When I nod, he immediately begins preparing my peppermint _mocha, extra hot (nuclear, he calls it), with low-fat milk and just a smidge of whipped cream.
Sometimes I’ll also buy a Chai tea latte for my mom and swing by her house on my way to work. When I do this, my coffee guy gives me the 50 percent senior’s discount on her drink, even though he has no way of knowing if I’m really buying it for a senior or I’m just a double-fisted drinker. Once he chased after me in the store parking lot to let me know I had earned a free coffee with the store’s frequent-buyer card. He apologized because he had forgotten to honor it and wanted to let me know my next coffee was free.
These are all minor gestures, but collectively they add up to great customer service. And that’s why I wanted to thank my coffee guy at Christmas time. “What can I buy somebody whom I know nothing about?” I asked my manager. She shrugged. “He may not even celebrate Christmas,” she reminded me. “A Christmas gift may not be appropriate.”
True. Still, I had to let him know that his kindness frequently sets the tone for my day. Every morning, I return to my car with my extra-hot, low-fat peppermint _mocha in hand, warmed by his attentiveness and touched by his kindness.
“Maybe he has a thing for you,” my manager teased. But I quickly dismissed the notion. My coffee guy can’t be a day over 21. I could easily be his mo...uh, older, older sister. No, this wasn’t about attraction, trying to score points, schmoozing or anything else. He was just a kind person. And I wanted to say thank you.
I finally decided on a gift card to a local book-and-record store. Surely he could find something there to enjoy. I tucked the gift in a safely generic “Happy Holidays” card, and inside I wrote, “Thank you for the cheerful attitude and great customer service you provide year-round.” I signed it the Peppermint _Mocha Latte lady.
Christmas Eve morning I arrived at the shop at my usual ungodly hour, but not in my typical bleary-eyed state. Today I was a tad giddy with anticipation, excited to brighten my coffee guy’s day just as he had so often brightened mine. While he was making my peppermint _mocha, I snuck the card alongside the register where he'd be sure to find it after I left.
As he handed me my drink, he told me to wait a second. Then he reached underneath the counter and handed me a gift-wrapped box of chocolates with a card. “I just want to say thanks,” he stammered with an awkward smile. What? He was thanking me? Then, because I was obviously speechless, he wished me a happy holiday and turned to tend to his growing line of customers.
In the pre-dawn dark of my car, I flicked on the light and opened the envelope. It was a Christmas card. Inside was printed, “A Christmas wish to show you just how nice it is to know you.” He had added, “Thank you for always being so nice. It makes our job easy, especially when everyone else is so grumpy. Merry Christmas.”
I thought of the card I'd left behind, tucked next to his register and couldn't help but smile at the irony.
It was a very _mocha Christmas, indeed.
William Prouty, CLU RHU CBC CEC MBA PhD
CEO and Founder
Champions For Life Foundation
PO Box 989, Sun City, CA 92586-0989
Phone 951-301-0605 FAX 951-301-0606
Skype account: williamprouty
wprouty@aol.com
www.gewdc.org
www.maie.org
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www.benefitstech.com
Alice on 12.27.05 @ 02:27 AM CST [link] [143 Comments]
