David Heiller
Dear Grandma:
We were sitting on the bed
watching a Charlie Brown Christmas Thursday night. It’s a good show, with good
lessons about people and Christmas.
Charlie Brown can’t find
the true meaning of Christmas. For some strange reason he gets depressed around
Christmas time. He thinks he should be happy, but he isn’t.
He thinks he doesn’t have
any friends. Everyone puts him down. There’s commercialism all around.
The kids and I were
soaking all this up, saying “Yeah, you’re right” to ourselves. I thought of
Mollie, who had taken a verbal beating from a girl on her bus. I thought of the
Tickle Me Elmo doll, which some fine folks are selling for up to $500.
People can be ugly.
Then Cindy came into the
room and asked me to fix the toilet paper dispenser. It had come off the wall,
screws and all.
A toilet paper dispenser
doesn’t just fall off a wall. Someone had to have pulled it off, probably by
accident.
“Who did it?” I asked.
Neither of the kids would say. “The TV goes off until I find out,” I said. And
that’s what happened.
Charlie Brown’s good
lessons disappeared with a click, and some other lessons took their place.
I won’t rehash the next
hour. It wasn’t fun. The mood in the house changed. Ι got
crabby looking for an honest answer. The kids protested and stormed to their
rooms and struggled to find a way to be honest
and save face. All over a stupid toilet paper dispenser.
This isn’t the way Christmas
is supposed
to be, I
thought with bitterness as Ι put
new anchors in the sheetrock and remounted the dispenser. What happened to the
tranquil scene on the bed, soaking in a Christmas classic? I was starting to
feel like a cross between Charlie Brown and Ebenezer Scrooge.
Then one of the kids
confessed. That broke the tension. I explained that it
was all right to break something by accident. I would not have been mad.
“Yeah right.”
“It’s true. Just be
honest. I’ve broken things before. I know the feeling.” I meant it, and the kid
knew it. I was not mad that the dispenser came out of the wall. I was mad that
they didn’t tell me about it.
We talked it out, and
peace returned.
It was too late for Charlie Brown, but it’s never too late for peace.
My point in all this,
Grandma, is that Christmas isn’t a magical time. We’d like to think it is. A
time for soft snow to fall, and Christmas carolers at the door, and feel-good
shows on TV. And no family arguments about who broke the toilet paper dispenser.
Life goes on around
Christmas, and life includes family squabbles. It includes working long hours,
and worries about your children, and wondering how you’ll pay the bills, and a
million other concerns.
These things are all a
part of the happiness and contentment that we yearn for especially at
Christmas-time. It’s pretty obvious, I know. Why am I telling you this? You
know it already. You were a wise woman. You saw your share of good and bad in
your family, which was my family.
I guess I’m telling
myself, reminding myself. It’s called putting things in perspective, taking the
bad with the good, mixing them up in the right recipe, living a good life, not
having unrealistic expectations at Christmas.
Wow, I covered a lot of
bases there.
 |
| Generally, the sweetness of Christmas isn't lost, but occasionally mislaid. |
Anyway, I’m looking
forward to Christmas. I hope other people are too. If they aren’t, if
they just want it to be over so life can get back to normal, that’s fine with
me. But the toilet paper dispenser will still come off the wall no matter what
time of year it is.
I’m looking forward to church
on Sunday too. I guess that’s a part of Christmas! I asked Pastor Owen if we
could sing, “A Happy Christmas Comes Once More.” All the Danes in Askov know
it. For some reason it skipped this old German.
But Pastor obliged, and
it’s in the service. When we sing it, I’ll think of you.
Love, David
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