“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.” — Albert Einstein
Attending Kevin’s funeral on Christmas Eve, this quote from Albert Einstein was printed on the cover of the funeral bulletin.
Have you ever been struck with a profound thought or observation, when you least expect it? When it’s presented in such a deceptively simple format – in this case, printed text?
One more thing struck me from attending Kevin’s funeral, but not until this very moment. Kevin’s son, maybe three years old, was there, of course. Estimating there were 300 people attending.
But the only other child I saw was the one in my arms most of the Mass.
Fear is a survival instinct. (think caveman) A gift, to keep us alive.
You get that, right? Fight or flight?
Fear is also an excuse.
“I’m afraid if I talk about it at work, socially, at the gym, with my neighbors, on the Internet, that I might ruin my chances for **insert** promotion, opportunity, relationship, readers, followers, advocates, etc.”
What the?
Exactly. An excuse.
I do not go around telling everyone I’m a Christian. In fact, I don’t tell anyone.
But I also don’t keep it a secret. In fact, I don’t keep it a secret from anyone.
I wonder if anyone else thinks like this. Actually, it really doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of me being a Christian.
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.
