This week, my son and I have taken several sunset walks. We end up in our back yard. A really big back yard. The sun has set, and now it’s twilight.
“Son, look around. Do you see how much space is here in this yard, from one side to the other?”
He says, “Yes.”
“I’m not saying that other sized yards are better or worse. I’m just saying that Mommy and Daddy worked really, really hard to make this yard possible.”
For something like seven years, Cheryl and I spent, what seemed like a majority of our weekends looking for a big yard near Walt Disney World.
The first 15 years in Central Florida, I worked every weekend, and had either a Saturday or a Sunday off, but never both.
And on that lone weekend day off, we combed the area north of Disney, south of Disney, east of Disney, west of Disney.
I mean, if you could only pick one, what would it be?
My wife’s Grammy, who died in my arms at age 93, always said Little Drummer Boy was her favorite. She went to Heaven in September 1989.
It never occurred to me back then to ask her why. Why would it have occurred to me?
Well, all these years later, “Why?” is a fun and purposeful question.
Why do you enjoy your favorite Christmas song? For no reason? Or, for some special or purposeful reason.
Hey, I realize some of you may say, “Jeff, not everything has to have a purpose.”
Right. And this is the fundamental difference between those that drift through life and those that make a difference.
I enjoy listening to “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” as much as anyone. It’s funny, unexpected, and way not serious.
But Little Drummer Boy is not only Grammy’s favorite, but mine as well. Why? because I Look for little ways to help our son understand his family’s history.
His Grandfather, Jack (not the bear), my Dad, was a drummer. He started playing drums from the moment he could hold drumsticks in his hands.
He hitch-hiked 100 miles to Philadelphia, from his row-home in Spring Grove, Pennsylvania, just so he could take drum lessons from a particularly talented drummer.
He played drums in the Army band while stationed in Japan, during the Korean War.
He taught 30-minute drum lessons Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, 4:00pm – 8:00pm, year round.
He played gigs on Friday and Saturday nights, year round.
As a young man, he had business cards printed. His title – “Drummer”.
From one stupid little Christmas song, a piece of our son’s family history is told, year after year.
But only if I put some thought into it.
And at Christmas, as it is all year round, it’s the thought that counts.
Audacious. Authentic. Audacious authenticity. How’s that work for you? It works really well on my end.
As a goal, I mean – audacious authenticity. Being boldly authentic. Not conforming to status quo, but rather, conforming to faith, hope and love.
Heard the song the other day by Kirk Franklin, or maybe it was Mary Mary, with a line that goes, “Can’t take my joy devil.”
That’s it, that was the right message at the right time.
In our lifetimes we probably listen to many types of music: Rock, Rap, Country, Jazz, Reggae, Pop, Classical, Christian, Oldies, Soul, R&B, etc.
Rock & Roll has always been my favorite. And then, while living out West, Country became a new love.
But today, hands down, without a doubt, Contemporary Christian is what sustains me.
To all the great folks at Central Florida’s Contemporary Christian radio station, Z88.3, or the Z, as some call it, thank you for what you do to help God’s people when they need it.
And just speaking for myself, this is every single day. Thank you.
PS. Click here to listen on your computer. The Z is currently playing 24-hour Christmas music.
Not talking about the Three Doors Down rock song Citizen Soldier, or our Country’s National Guard, for whom the song is dedicated.
Talking about all the active duty men and women military personnel I’ve seen this week. Orlando to Atlanta, Atlanta to Columbia, Columbia to Atlanta, and Atlanta to Dallas.
Decided, in the spirit of giving, to not only give thanks internally, but to give thanks externally.
So I awkwardly asked how best to show appreciation for their efforts. They all said basically the same thing.
A simple thank you means a lot.
And so that’s what I’ve been doing, going only a little out of my way (that’s all it takes), to thank each and every one I pass.
The Lord works in mysterious ways. One of the service men, heading back to Iraq and leaving behind a wife and three children (16, 10, 6) at Christmas time, wound up being an angel for me about five minutes later.
