All It Takes Is A Little Love

This is the time of year when i think about my family. We are an imperfect lot just as most families are. My father died in a car accident with hints that he may have been inebriated from celebrating with his coworkers on the evening before Memorial Day. My mother had bipolar disorder that frequently left her oscillating between dark depression and the paranoia of mania. Early on I learned the importance of loving everyone in my big crazy extended family in spite of any flaws that I witnessed in them or from myself. For the most part each person worked hard to be kind and loving. I have found decades of solace in them even as their numbers have begun to wane. They have been a constant source of love in times when I began to waver or feel despair. 

If I had one Bible story to name as my favorite it would surely be The Prodigal Son. It epitomizes the kind of forgiveness that seems to be the central message that Jesus of Nazareth brought to the world. He eschewed warnings of fire and damnation in favor of redemption and second chances. Over and over again he purposely chose to remind us that he came to save us, not condemn us. For me the message of Christmas is all about the power of love and its transformational possibilities. 

In this year of 2024 we humans seem to be engaged in a never ending quarrel with one another that has brought splits among friends and family members and fomented wars between nations. We are even using our religious beliefs as cudgels to judge and batter each other, justifying our political choices as though they have been ordained by Jesus himself. We have become judgmental, twisting our ethics to allow innocent people to suffer. The result here in the United States of America is a division between citizens that is as wide as the Grand Canyon with our newly elected president, Donald Trump, boasting about the retribution he intends to wreak on anyone who has ever disagreed with him. He and his cabinet choices are the antithesis of the message of hope and peace that was born on that first Christmas of long ago. 

Sometimes a story of unconditional love and forgiveness lives among us even in such difficult times. This past weekend we saw such a selfless demonstration when President Joe Biden pardoned his son, Hunter, of all the crimes that he has committed. It was an act that we all needed to see, a father embracing his imperfect son without apology. President Biden understood full well that Hunter had been a diversionary target that was designed to hurt him more than his son. In a stunning show of true fatherly love he redirected the slings and arrows back toward himself where he believes they belong. It was an act of courage that should inspire us all. 

Who among us would not do the same for a son or a daughter? How many of us have watched someone we love become addicted to alcohol or drugs or eating or sex? How helpless have we felt when a family member or friend decided to end life with suicide? As a child or a parent or a friend we have all experienced bitter disappointments from those to whom we are the closest. We have even struggled with our own blunders and sins. Those of us who follow Jesus revel in the second chances that he offers us. We fall, repent and get back up to try again to be our best. This is what life is all about. This is what Jesus was trying to tell us as even as he died on a cross like a convicted criminal. 

Whether we believe in God or not, the story of Jesus is a powerful reminder of how we each should strive to live. It is not about judging or spurning those whom we do not understand, but only about unabashedly loving the people that we encounter, even the ones who confound us with behaviors that we do not understand. 

Somehow of late we have faltered all across the world. After the tragedy of the Covid pandemic we should have embraced life and each other with abandon but instead fear has divided us. Our goal should not be to wipe out what we do not personally like but rather to insure that we protect the individual rights of every person. This is what our Founding Fathers intended when they set up our nation nearly two hundred fifty years ago. They never envisioned a country as vast and diverse as ours has become, but they would have wanted everyone under our big tent to feel comfortable being themselves. Abraham Lincoln understood that he had to free the slaves. Teddy Roosevelt saw that we needed unpolitical agents to run the vast programs that helped to protect every citizen. Franklin Roosevelt and every President after him until Donald Trump understood that their roles as leaders included even those who voted against them. It is only Trump who seems to believe that loyalty to him is more important than abiding by the Constitution. He is setting up a kinglike cabinet filled with loyalists whose only goal is to please their master and those who comply with him. 

In this holy season we all must take time to remember why Jesus came to this earth and the lessons that he taught us. Nothing he said condemned others. Everything he did was beautiful and loving. We would all do well to celebrate with open hearts and a willingness to embrace rather than to spurn.  The reason for the season is forgiveness.

I first met Shirley and the two Judys when the nuns at our church decided to leave their jobs as religious educators to do pastoral work with the sick and needy. Suddenly the Continuing Christian Education program needed two leaders to administer the challenge of finding, training and supporting the program that provided our youngest parishioners with weekly classes designed to teach them about the tenets of the Catholic Church. The departure of the two beloved women who had created and managed the CCE program necessitated a search for individuals who might replace them. An earnest attempt to find other nuns to step into their shoes proved to be futile, so for the first time lay persons would have to do the job. That’s when Shirley and I came into the picture.

I was stunned to receive a call from the good Sisters asking me to come talk with them at the parish offices. I had no idea what the meeting was going to be about but I did not hesitate to accept their invitation. After a few pleasantries they got to the heart of the matter and asked me to accept the position of Co-Director of the CCE program. They explained that I would shepherd the Pre-School and Elementary group and that a woman named Shirley who had already agreed to take the job would be the head of the middle school and high school classes. 

I explained that I was taking classes at the University of Houston in the hopes of finishing my degree and beginning a full time teaching job, but the nuns discussed ways that I would be able to balance all of that with a great deal of flexibility. When I asked why they had even thought of me, they pointed to the energy and excitement of the one class that I taught each Sunday morning. They saw me as a leader and wanted to tap into what they viewed as my potential. Since I have always loved a good challenge I found myself accepting their proposal as they outlined my duties and apologized that the salary of four thousand dollars a year was so low. They laughed and explained that the parishioners were not yet accustomed to paying for the talents of lay people but that hopefully that would one day change. 

I was in my late twenties raising two very young daughters at the time, taking classes at the university, and serving as a teacher at a local pre-school two mornings a week. Somehow I created a schedule that would allow me to accomplish all of my tasks and still be a good mom and wife and give my new job the attention it desired. Then it was time to meet my co-worker, Shirley and the two Judys who would be essential to making everything work 

Shirley and I instantly hit it off. She was smart, fun and energetic. Best of all she was delightfully filled with laughter while also knowing how to run a tight ship. I felt that with the help of the women we would eventually call the “two Judys” we would be just fine. One Judy would maintain our budget with precision and the other would serve as a receptionist, attendance clerk and all around individual willing to help with any need. Both Judys had already worked with the good nuns for years and were welcoming to the two newbies that we were, A legendary team was born. 

Things were not always smooth because there were individuals who were wary of allowing two ordinary women to be in charge of the religious education of their children. They longed for the nuns who had been such a fixture of the parish and somehow hoped that our tenure would only be temporary until more religious women might be found. For the most part though we were embraced by everyone and when things got a bit tough we rallied around each other. I grew to love Shirley and the two Judys as though they were my sisters. 

We all worked together for a couple of years until I had earned my degree and landed a full time job teaching mathematics. With great reluctance I had to leave the wonderful women who had made me laugh and smile and just feel wonderful. I suggested that my dear friend, Pat, would be a great replacement for me and so I left the program in exceptionally good hands. I decided that our sisterhood should never end and so I began a tradition of meeting up at least once a year at Christmas time. That tradition has continued to the present day and my relationship with Shirley the two Judys and Pat only grew stronger over the years. 

Shirley has always been a survivor, able to overcome any challenges that came her way. When she became single again she had to adapt her lifestyle to the economic changes that came. She worked at different jobs as a tax specialist and continued her love of cooking. I was lucky to be the recipient of her banana bread and strawberry preserves. She seemed to be the master of so many trades and an inspiration to all of us who know her. 

The two Judys continued to work for the church. They were loved quite rightly by all of the parishioners. Pat grew the program and became as much of an admired fixture at the church as the Judys had always been.

One of the Judys died a few years back, a shocking development considering that she was still quite young. Nonetheless our “Church Lady” meetings continued. then Pat also died from cancer that seemed so unlikely in a woman who had always been the picture of good health. Shirley, Judy and I continued our tradition and often spent hours laughing together and suggesting that we should get together more often than once a year. 

Not long ago Shirley had a stroke that left her unable to speak or take care of herself. She has been in a nursing home where her daughter Chrystal regularly visits. Covid prevented Judy and I from visiting but the two of us still got together and spoke of how much we appreciated Chrystal for keeping us apprised of Shirley’s situation with photos and anecdotes that make us smile. Somehow it is heartbreaking to see Shirley looking so vacant but heartwarming to observe the loving care that Chrystal brings to her. 

Judy and I have spoken of going to see Shirley but I suppose we both worry that she will not know who we are or that we will not know how to act in her presence. I keep telling myself that Shirley would have already been to see either of us numerous times. She was unafraid of difficult situations and always knew exactly what to say on any occasion. 

I loved everyone of those ladies with whom I worked. I will always be grateful to the nuns for giving me such a wonderful purpose with incredible people. The memories of our time together are golden and I suppose it is time for me to gather my courage and do the right thing just as I did when I accepted that job long ago. It’s well best time to go visit Shirley if only to let her and Chrystal know how much I love them both. it is certainly what Shirley would do if the table were turned.  

I’ve found myself thinking more and more about those expiration dates on food than I once did. It’s not so much that I’m worried about whether or not an item is safe to eat, but rather my concern is about the very idea that each of us have an expiration date that is not listed anywhere. We simply do not know when our time on this earth will be over. 

Growing older has reminded me that nobody lives forever and neither will I. While I feel quite healthy at the moment I realize that my status might change in a heartbeat. My social life these days is sadly punctuated with funerals and memorial services for once active friends. I now know more people who have left this earth than those still around to live to their lives. It can be a rather depressing state of affairs if I too often think about how uncertain my future has become as has that of the other two people who reside in my home. Instead I mentally force myself to live in the moment, enjoying small pleasures while I am still able to do so while also attempting to be logical about the future. I want to make my transitions in live as pleasant as possible for both me and my children.

There has been a great deal of focus on people getting too old to be leaders during this year’s political campaigns. We began with two old men who are older than I am running for President of the United States. I noticed right away that both of them were struggling to be as sharp as they once were. I know from my own experience that I’m not the fireball of energy that I once was. I can be ready to take on the world in one moment and sent to my bed with spasms in my back the next. The fact is that there comes a time when we might all do well to gracefully turn over the hard work of living to the younger generation rather than grasping to maintain our dominance. 

I’ve watched my father-in-law slowly lose his sharp wit in the two and a half years that he has been living with us. It’s taken time for him to admit that he is incapable of doing some of the things that were once second nature to him. He understandably attempts to be in charge of his own destiny and it is difficult for him to allow others to handle the tasks that he has always completed so well. Nonetheless, he and all of us would do well to have the wisdom and humility to know when it is time to step back and allow others who are more fit to help us through however many months or years we have before our individual expiration dates come due. 

Hubris is a human flaw that is the stuff of legends. We all want to be the kind of person who lives with meaning and vitality but sometimes the best sign that we are doing well is in knowing when to step back and admit to needing help. When we set aside our pride and demonstrate trust for those who are younger we are demonstrating more wisdom that when we keep insisting on doing things that might be dangerous to ourselves and others. 

I’m a fan of the television program Slow Horses. The latest season features the deterioration of one of the character’s grandfather who had at one time been a powerful man. It is a sad but common story of our human tendencies to weaken as we grow older and older. I cried watching the younger man attempting to help the older man who had always been his role model. Nobody enjoys seeing anyone grow weak and unable to be independent. It is nonetheless easier when the person who needs our help is willing to accept it.

My own grandfather was rather amazing all the way through his nineties but he very wisely changed his habits on his own. He found a safe place to live where he might be watched in case he became ill. He gave up driving when he celebrated his ninetieth birthday. Nobody had to beg him to do those things. He simply understood the dangers in lying to himself about his waning abilities. He was logical about when and how to surrender many of the tasks that he once did on his own. He kept us informed of his state of health and mind and told us how he was adjusting to his changing situation. He was a delight to watch as he grew old with grace. 

I am already discussing how my own future may change with my daughters. I have promised to hand them the keys to my car at whatever point in time that it is no longer safe for me to be driving. I discuss possible living scenarios with them knowing that whether I prefer it or not ,the time may come when I need constant care, I don’t want to ask them to accept that role when I there are other resources. As someone who spent years taking care of my mother and now my father-in-law I can attest to the reality that it is an incredibly difficult task especially when the person needing the care insists on doing everything his or her way. My grandfather showed me that it can be a pleasant experience by honoring and respecting us in helping him make the best decisions. It was only in the last months of his life that his mind clouded over and he became difficult. Before that he had been a brilliant example of how to grow old.

There are a very large number of us who are rapidly aging and trying to remain as young as possible. Sometimes we forget that we worked hard to raise our children so that that would be capable of taking over as we became less and less able to be totally independent. We would all do well to let the young folk know that we believe in them. It’s time that we hear how they would like to see the world progress. It’s time that we let them be partners in making each of our lives more serene. It’s time to trust that we taught them well enough that they will do what is best for all of us. It does not have to be a battle up to the moment when our expiration dates arrive. We can instead be like my grandfather who so wisely understood how to change and adapt and allow us to take the helm.

I know that I have just witnessed something too amazing to even describe when I find myself filling with so much emotion that tears suddenly drop from my eyes. So it was when I viewed the movie version of the musical Wicked. I had seen a live performance years before and the story and music had remained among my favorites. I was quite excited when I learned that it had been remastered into a film. 

On the week of Thanksgiving I joined my daughters and some of my grandchildren at the local cinema for an evening viewing. A few of us wore pink or green or even both colors as a kind of fun tribute to the characters Glinda and Elphaba. We grabbed our popcorn and sodas and settled into our reserved lounger seats anxious to get through the trivia, advertisements and previews that seemed to last even longer than usual. The mechanism on my seat was not working so I had to sit upright just as I always had went I went to movies in the past. In spite of the little annoyances here and there I was excited and happy when the first scenes appeared on the screen. I knew instantly that I was in for something quite special. 

Wicked, the movie, has everything that I enjoy, beautiful music, enchanting cinematography, a clever story and incredible performances from every actor, most particularly Cynthia Evie  as Elphaba and Ariana Grande as Glinda. I was mesmerized from start to finish and felt that I was watching a film that will certainly become an instant epic classic to delight audiences for as long as The Wizard of Oz has done. It somehow seemed to be the inevitable epilogue to that favorite from the nineteen forties that launched the career of Judy Garland. Surely we had all wondered what forces had created the Wicked Witch of the West with her flying monkeys. Had she always been so evil?

As a political junkie and observant educator I am a fan of history. I have found that most of us are influenced and shaped by a lifetime of events beginning with birth and how we are treated in life. The stories of Elphaba and Glinda are as old as the beginning of time when circumstances beyond anyone’s control metes out punishments and rewards based on little more than the ways in which society views certain groups or kinds of people. The politics of who we are and who we become may be a result our good fortune or derive from brutal prejudices over which we have little control. 

As we grow and mature we each invent ways to survive with as little hardships as possible. For some growing up takes place in an atmosphere of love and plenty. For others it is a lifetime of unfounded prejudice and misunderstanding. The politics of where we were born and how we appear to the world all too often determines the trajectory of our lives even when we try diligently to overcome the difficulties that make us less than in the eyes of others. Somehow the history of the world continues to categorize people as winners and losers based on many superficial characteristics over which they have little or no control. 

Wicked asks us to look beyond the obvious and superficial, to realize that we all too often overlook greatness only because it does not look the way we think it should be. It makes us wonder how often we have followed the superficialities of a crowd rather than learning about the truth of people or situations that are not exactly what they seem to be. It challenges us to ask questions and ferret out truths before making assumptions. it demonstrates how human it is to passively fall for lies and propaganda aimed at controlling us and how sometimes the very person who seems to be the villain is really the one who is doing what is right and just. 

I was swept away by the timeliness of the story in Wicked. It is as meaningful today as it would have been hundreds even thousands of years ago. It captures the good, the bad and the ugly of our humanity in an enchanting tale. If we watch it properly we may see ourselves and realize that we have to ferret out the truth on our own or surely we will be mislead. It tells us how we should beware of false promises and patriotism that asks us to turn on segments of the population who are different from ourselves. It demonstrates how powerful it is to make us afraid of others to the point of no longer seeing them as human.

Wicked is not just a fluffy feel good movie. It asks us to think and consider how we ourselves might be creating hate by hating. It is a stunning production that will certainly win many kudos when awards season begins. Everyone will be touched by the great care taken with every aspect of creating this incredible movie. If you have not yet seen it, I recommend that you do so soon. Make it a family affair. Go with people that you love and then ask yourself who the Elphabas are in your life. Think about what you might do to hear what they have to say before shunning them. We each have so many wrongs to right.  

I love Christmas. It has always been my favorite day of the year. While I love to decorate the tree with twinkling lights and tinsel, but my favorites are the nativity sets that I place in virtually every room of my home. I’ve been collecting them for years and each of them has a special story associated with them. 

My husband and I were married in early October so our first Christmas together came only two months after our wedding. We were both students at the time, still doing our best to gather enough hours to graduate. I had a job as a teachers’ aide at Elliot Elementary and earned just enough to pay our rent and buy gasoline and a few groceries. To say that we lived on a shoestring would be an understatement but somehow we believed that we would make it on a wing and a prayer. 

The first Christmas we managed to cut back just enough on our grocery bills to purchase gifts for our parents, my brothers and each other. It was almost a magical feat to pull it off, but we did it. We also managed to purchase a tiny live Christmas tree and a couple of boxes of ornaments and a string of lights. It wasn’t exactly a Charlie Brown tree but it was rather close. Somehow we did not even notice how meager our efforts must have appeared to everyone else. We were proud that we had managed to stretch our budget just enough to have a bit of Christmas cheer. 

The only thing that seemed to be missing was a nativity scene. Somehow it did not feel right without one and yet we were measuring every single penny. That’s when I found one that was only five dollars. It was small and rather plain but it had all the major characters in the story of Jesus’ birth and somehow we loved it. Still, we did some serious soul searching to determine if we would make it until my next paycheck if we splurged any more than we already had. 

We must have walked away from that little creche five or six times until finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. We still have it fifty six years later and it remains my favorite because of what it meant to us when we shared our first Christmas together. 

Since that time we have purchased many other Nativity sets that are much grander. We have one that takes up the space of an entire table. It is perfectly styled in porcelain. The figures are almost a foot high and the colors so true to life. There is even a lovely background for the scene. It is the most elegant of our collection and while I truly love it, there is another set that takes my heart. It is a set of little figurines from A Charlie Brown Christmas. All of the familiar characters are decked out in costumes that appear to be made from sheets. They wear paper crowns and veils. Baby Jesus is portrayed by Woodstock and Snoopy is a stunning shepherd. It brings back memories of watching those characters celebrate the birth of Jesus each year on television when we watched with our little girls who still tune in to the Christmas classic to this very day. 

There is also another very special set that has a story similar to the one from our first Christmas. It centers around one of the first Christmases after my father died. My mother, brothers and I had settled into a new house and wondered if anything would ever again be as magical as it had been when my father was still alive. Mama soldiered on through her grief and did her very best to deck the rooms of our home with tinsel and a lovely tree. She played Christmas music and laughed at our antics.

Later Mama and I made cookies and stored them in tins in case anyone came to visit. We had packages under the tree and my brothers and I had visited Santa and shyly told him what we wanted. We hung our stockings  and felt quite proud of how everything looked so lovely. Then Mama suggested that we take a trip to the neighborhood TG&Y to look for presents for our neighbors. 

As we walked up and down the aisles perusing the offerings we suddenly noticed a magnificent Nativity set with gloriously crafted figurines. It came with a lovely wooden structure that seemed to be almost real. We could not take our eyes from it. We were frozen in admiration and without saying anything it became apparent that each of us was wishing that it could be in our house for Christmas. Sadly the price seemed to be more than we dared spend so we left the store without even suggesting that we purchase it. 

On the way home Mama quietly spoke about how lovely the Nativity set was. Sensing that she was waiting for encouragement we bravely admitted how much we would like to have it in our home. Mama became quite pensive and began to list the pros and cons of spending so much money. We were already home before the debate had even ended. We silently went into the house believing that it was a pipe dream to think that we might be able to buy the beautiful Christmas scene. 

Being children we were soon distracted by silly games when Mama suddenly appeared and announced that she believed that we would never forgive ourselves if we did not go back to get the set. She grabbed her purse and told us to follow her to the car. It only took a few minutes to get back to the store and to our delight the Nativity scene was still there. We were overjoyed as the clerk carefully wrapped each piece and placed everything in a lovely box. 

We set up the the three kings, the shepherds, Mary, Joseph and Jesus as soon as we got home. It would be part of our Mama’s Christmas decorations for the rest of her life. That set is now about sixty eight years old and lately it has sat in my home. The pieces are worn with age and some of them are missing. The wooden building fell apart years ago but what is left is still so wonderful that I cry a few joyful tears as I set it up each year. 

I have many other Nativity sets each of which have wonderful stories as well but the ones I have told about you are sure the best. Christmas is about love and I remember it as I set the figures out each year.