Holiday Mail

Here's a piece I wrote for the Army Times in December 1993. It was a little lengthy, so I'm lopping off the first several paragraphs. They titled it:

Those Holiday Letters Keep Coming...and Coming

The onslaught of holiday mail is something I begin looking forward to as soon as the weather turns crisp. It starts about December first, thanks to a few zealous friends whose Thanksgiving traditions include stuffing a turkey and their Christmas card envelopes.

I look at holiday mail as a fleeting encounter with the person at the other end. It's a quick gift that comes packaged with memories of a shared past, wrapped in the personality of the sender. Holiday cards that don't include a message of some sort are disappointing.

Personality is revealed more by the style of a holiday letter than by what it says. Some of our more imaginative friends have penned their season's greetings from the point of view of their pets and unborn children, while others have published mini family newspapers. Last year a former college roommate related the year's events via pattern poetry in the shape of a Christmas tree.

Regardless of style and format, almost every military family we know produces a computer-generated newsletter. In contrast, when I was a kid, exactly one family's message was typed and mass-produced. My brothers and sisters and I would read this annual epistle with wildly exaggerated expressions and grand gestures. We figured these pretentious people thought they were a little more special than the rest of us, so we mocked them.

I now surmise that if not for typewriter and copy machine, we ingrates would likely have been the first ones crossed off this former military family's season's greetings list.

I like reading anything anybody has to say in a Christmas letter.

There is something comforting about hearing from people whose lives change very little as the years go by and from those who go through more changes than we do. It makes us feel like we're right where we're supposed to be.

I enjoy being surprised by what some have written, and just as much, I enjoy the predictability of others--such as the apologies and excuses offered by those sending computer letters for the first time, instead of the "real thing." Apparently, my siblings and I weren't the only former scoffers of this type of holiday letter.

What I like most is reading how everyone else's children are the best and brightest. I smile because I know better--and so will all my family and friends as soon as they read my own holiday newsletter this year.

Win or Lose

Win or lose, when my town's high school football coach talks to the media after the Friday night game, his remarks always start out the same way: "I just want to praise God." He proceeds to rattle off a string of reasons for this praise, and always includes how God has blessed him, and how thankful he is for everything God has done.

Some people may think his words are merely sound bites for the radio audience, a show of small-town quaintness. But anyone who knows Jack Welch knows that he means exactly what he says. Jack Welch knows that he is a blessed man, and having earned a position of respect and authority in our town, he uses every public opportunity to expose his faith. I'm glad that in doing this, he articulates that his thankfulness is to God.

In contrast, leading up to Thanksgiving, a popular morning television show host reminded viewers to be sure to give thanks in whatever way would be meaningful to them. It was clear from the context of her statement that she was not suggesting meaningful as in choosing between praying or singing praises to God, but as an all-inclusive, non-offensive nod to every spiritual and unspiritual belief out there.

Her point was that it didn't matter to whom you were thankful as long as you paused to realize...what? That you had received an abundance of family, friends, food, prosperity, and other good things in life, and that you were glad? That somehow, you managed to have a pretty decent life and you just wanted to take time out from your busy schedule to acknowledge this reality to yourself?

That line of reasoning doesn't work. You can't add up every good and perfect thing in your life, and then take the Father of lights out of the equation. James' epistle warns us not to be deceived in this very thing. But this is exactly what I do if I fail to acknowledge the source of my bounty and simply put on an attitude of gratitude, as the catch-phrase goes, as if it were a comfortable, old sweater. Like a comfy cardigan, this vague style of thankfulness may give me a warm, cozy feeling, but that is the extent of its usefulness.

My thankfulness to God is tied to the entire spectrum of my faith. I can thank Him for my life because He is my creator. I can thank Him for His protection because He is my rock and my refuge, a strong fortress to run to in times of trouble. I can thank Him for my circumstances because I know that His plans for me are for my welfare, to give me a hope and a future. I can thank Him in my prayers because I know that He already knows what I need and will heap blessings upon me, topped off with peace beyond comprehension.

Most of all, I can thank Him for His Son, Jesus Christ, in whom I have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. And, like Jack Welch reminds his listeners week in and week out during football season, when my praise and thanks are bound up in my faith in Christ, the string of blessings never ends. Win or lose.