A White Christmas?

“You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You get what you need.”

 ~ The Rolling Stones “Let it Bleed” Album

“Go clean up your room,” Kurt’s mother said emphatically. “But, Mom,” he began. “No buts about it,” she responded. “The only butt around here is yours. And, it will be in a sling if you don’t go to your room and get it cleaned up.” Kurt reluctantly trudged off to his room.

He opened the door and surveyed the chaos. Clothes hung on the bed posts and his chair. Dirty underwear was piled in the corner having somehow missed the hamper, which was right next to the pile. Papers were piled on his desk and the floor was strewn with a variety of toys and games. “It looks alright to me,” he thought. “Besides it’s my room anyway, what does Mom care what it looks like?”

With a deep sigh he reluctantly began his task.  Kurt picked up his Apache Attack Helicopter to put it away. In a moment, his imagination transported him to a secret combat rescue mission in some foreign country, his room-cleaning duty quickly forgotten.

An hour passed and Kurt’s mom had not heard or seen her son since he slunk off to his room in a pout. Kurt was a good boy; but like most boys, his chores always seemed to be easily forgotten with a plethora of excuses as to why they weren’t done. She decided to check in to see how the cleaning assignment was going.

Quietly opening the door to Kurt’s room, she was greeted by the usual visual chaos. Nothing had been touched. There on the floor sat Kurt surrounded by a variety toys in some mock battle arrangement.

“Kurt!” Startled by her voice, Kurt turned and faced his irritated mother, standing in the doorway fists on hips. “What have you been doing for the last hour?” The boy stared at the floor. “It’s my room,” he began. Somehow his argument didn’t sound as persuasive as it had an hour ago. 

“Really?” his mother replied, her arms now crossed. “I suppose this means you’re going to launder that pile of dirty underwear in the corner yourself?” “Well… I… need new underwear,” was his stammered reply.  Kurt knew he was not getting himself out, but into deeper trouble with his mom. His mother’s right eyebrow arched, which was a bad sign.

“You have an hour to clean up this room,” his mother ordered with a sense of finality. “I’m surprised, with Christmas coming, you aren’t trying to do a better job of convincing Santa you were good this year.”

“I don’t believe in Santa anymore,” Kurt replied staring at the floor. His mother glowered at him for a moment. “Good to know,” she said finally, and closed the door.

The three weeks leading up to Christmas passed quickly. Kurt had all but forgotten the room-cleaning incident and assumed his Mom had also. He had been hoping for a new radio-controlled sports car, or maybe that new video game.

At 6:00 am Christmas morning, Kurt and his sister Suzy shot down the stairs to the Christmas tree in the living room. His parents were already there with their cups of morning coffee. Christmas music was playing on the stereo and the tree lights were lit.

Kurt and his sister said “Merry Christmas,” to their parents as they headed for the tree. As was their family custom, everyone retrieved their gifts from the tree then stacked their gifts in front of them. Each one opened a gift while everyone else watched and commented.

To Kurt’s surprise and dismay, he had only two packages. Both were roughly the same size and shape and were relatively flat. Usually, he and Suzy opened their packages first. This year, for some unexplainable reason, his parents made him go last. This was disconcerting since Kurt had to wait impatiently while everyone went ahead of him.

Finally, it was his turn. Kurt anxiously ripped off the Christmas wrapping paper. There, in his lap lay a package of JC Penney briefs. His Mother smiled at him. “You said you needed new underwear.” Kurt’s eyes fell on the package of “tighty whities.”

They went around a second time. Kurt hurriedly tore his second package open. This time he found a package of JC Penney white t-shirts. Speechless, he stared at his mother. “That’s what you get when you stop believing in Santa Clause; you get underwear.” She said with a smile.  Kurt stared at the two packages.

  

The family went around a third time. When they got to Kurt, he had nothing left to open. “I don’t have any more presents,” he said dejectedly. From behind her chair his Mother produced a beautifully-wrapped package. “Try opening this,” she said with a smile.

Kurt opened it carefully. Inside was the radio-controlled sports car he had been hoping for. “I don’t understand,” he exclaimed, looking at his Mother.  “It’s simple,” she replied. “As you get older, you are going to have more responsibilities. Things in which you used to believe, don’t seem as important. But always know that, even though you stop believing, you will always be loved.”

If you no longer feel close to God, who moved? It is easy to view our relationship to God as a “give and get” arrangement. I give God my time and attention while in turn He gives me what I ask for. The problem arises when we don’t get what we wanted or thought we needed.

“Be careful what you pray for. You may just get it.” Our perceived needs, wants, and desires are all time-bound and usually self-serving. We never really see the big, big picture. Those things which seem desirable or beneficial to us now, may not seem so later. Likewise, a temporary hardship or inconvenience may reap long-term benefits later on.

God’s love is relentless. It is unfailing, unflagging. It is inevitable and without measure. It is not contingent upon what we do and what we don’t do. Because this is so, we ultimately receive what we need; even if it is underwear!

Dear God: Remind me that all I need to do to be happy, is believe.

“The reality of loving God is loving him like he's a Superhero who actually saved you from stuff rather than a Santa Claus who merely gave you some stuff.”  Criss Jami (born Christopher James Gilbert) ~ Lead singer of the rock band ‘Venus in Arms’, poet, essayist, existentialist philosopher, and the founder and designer of Killosopher Apparel (b 1987)..

©2013 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

Prayer Power

“Never forget the three powerful resources you always have available to you: love, prayer, and forgiveness.” ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr., American Author, Best known for “Life’s Little Instruction Book.” (b 1940)

Our friend was dying. There was no other way to put it. No way to see it in a positive light. Mick was dying and that was that.

It was Monday morning. Veterans Day. We sat at the conference table trying to plan our most important fundraising event of the year. But, try as we might, our thoughts kept drifting back to Mick.

He had been a constant contributor to the community. Always diligent. Always generous with his time, talent and treasure. Sadly, his fortunes had gradually deteriorated in recent years. With the sliding small business economy, Mick’s business had slumped and his house went into receivership. It was posted and locked up tight by the county sheriff, all his belongings still inside.

Then came the diagnosis: untreatable stage 4 liver cancer.

Locked out of his house, Mick had resorted to sleeping in the cramped office at the rear of his rented business space. There he stayed, waiting to die.

I turned from our now seemingly-trivial dinner meeting agenda and noticed my friend Karina starting to tear up. Karina, Jewish by birth, often teased me about our friendship. A Jew and a Catholic deacon. What an unlikely pair! And yet, we both understood and respected the depth of each other’s faith.

Sensing I was looking at her, Karina turned and met my gaze. In an instant she turned to the rest of the committee. “We need to pray,” she announced and, taking my hand, she led me out of the room to a nearby vacant office.

We sat facing each other, holding hands, palms to wrists. Quietly we took turns speaking words of prayer for Mick. Long pauses separated our words. The silence allowed us to empty our minds, filling them with God’s presence and thoughts of Mick. Time paused.

Even as the quiet engulfed us, without warning, Mindy burst into the room and held out her phone to Karina. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she stammered, “but this call is what you’re praying about.”

Karina hesitantly took the phone. “Hello?” For the next several minutes Karina spoke little, but punctuated the conversation with, “uh huh.” I would later learn that, thanks to calls made by Karina and others, a community leader was now involved. Arrangements were being made to move Mick to a care facility.

His house had been sold the day before, contents and all. But efforts were already being made to contact the new owner. (Days later, though he had every legal right to keep them, the new owner would voluntarily relinquish Mick’s documents and some of his key possessions.)

Karina said thank you and clicked off. “We need to finish praying," she said simply. We resumed our prayer vigil until finally, without looking at each other, we simultaneously said, “Amen.”

As our eyes slowly became accustomed to the light, we both breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow!” I exclaimed. “That may be the fastest response I have ever gotten to a prayer.” Karina produced an impish grin. “I’m not the least bit surprised,” she chirped with mock seriousness. “One of the Chosen People -- a female no less -- and a Catholic clergyman praying together? God had to take notice!”

We stood and stretched. “Let’s go,” she said finally. “We’ve got a dinner to plan.”

How often do we hear people say, “There is nothing else we can do. Now all we can do is pray.”? F.B. Meyer once said, "The greatest tragedy of life is not unanswered prayer, but unoffered prayer." Rather than our last resort, perhaps prayer should be our first resort.

Often, when people ask, “How do we get stewardship started at our parish?” or, “How do we go about doing a better job of evangelizing?” or, “How do we deal with this problem?” they sometimes become frustrated when it is suggested that they start with prayer. For most, “prayer” seems too undefined.

What they really are asking for is a game plan, a road map, or a set of step-by-step instructions.  But the game of life has no instructions inside the box lid. In fact, most of the really important things in life, like marriage, raising children or helping a dying friend don’t come with instructions.

We must come to accept the power of prayer. We must come to believe God has entrusted us with a force which can bring the power of heaven to earth.

Start and end everything with prayer. You may be surprised by the results.   

Dear God: Remind me to pray always.

“Prayer is not an old woman’s idle amusement. Properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action.” ~Mahatma Gandhi, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was the preeminent leader and freedom fighter of Indian nationalism in British-ruled India. (1869-1948)

©2013 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.