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.