RRN Online Volume 290

December 22 '01

Volume 290

Open House 218 Dogwood Circle

Part of a longstanding tradition in my family is to invite guests into our home on Christmas Eve. For many years, we limited our choice of guests to a few close friends and family members, but in recent years we've expanded our borders, so to speak, and now invite all those who read this newsletter to come and share in a time of food and fellowship.

We began our tradition when our children were quite young and shortly after we moved into our former home on 8^th Street. Our children played with the children of our friends and thus quickly passed away the hours that are typically the longest for children, those final hours before Santa makes his rounds.

We don't try to outdo anyone's Open House. We merely provide an atmosphere of friendship with a little food on the side. Our daughter Rayanne is a big help in getting our home decorated for the event. Sister Sarah (and sometimes niece Felicia) helps in preparing some of the goodies.

I wasn't keeping a journal of family activities back when the tradition began, so it's difficult to pinpoint that first year. My guess is that it might have been 1975. If so, this will be the 27^th year for our Open House.

Our intent is to maintain the tradition until we are too old, too debilitated, or too near death to continue. We have the event regardless of the day of the week, whatever the weather, and we stubbornly refuse to abandon our practice even in the face of changing times, such as our church's decision a few years ago to celebrate Christmas Eve with a candlelight service. I don't think anyone asked me what I thought of the idea, but I have managed to live with it. At least it's possible for some folks to work both events on Christmas Eve into their schedule.

Last year, invitations were mailed on the eighteenth of December, but most were not delivered until the day after Christmas. No invitations are being mailed this year (my own little revenge on the Postal Service). Instead, persons reading this article should consider this their invitation to attend. No RSVP is required. Just show up; we'll leave a light on for you.

Christmas Memories Others Share

Solicitation of Christmas memories from readers and others has become a tradition associated with this newsletter. Involving folks in keeping alive the art of communicating in the written form has been a goal of this writer since the inception of this newsletter almost six years ago.

Believing, however erroneously, that everyone had a Christmas memory or two to tell, I have over the years asked readers to share their memories in this newsletter. Many have responded to the appeal, though many have not. I choose not to criticize those who make no attempt to contribute a memory. Instead, I choose to appreciate more completely those who share a memory and the memory itself.

This year, I invited several persons with whom I correspond electronically via the Internet and email to write a favorite Christmas memory or tradition. The response was heartwarming in that the large majority of those contacted contributed a memory. Three such memories appeared in last week's issue of RRN, the rest are published within. While I have privately thanked each individual for his or her contribution, I now do so publicly.

The following are submitted for your enjoyment:

Advent Memories

By Gerard Howell/ Lexington, KY

It was the latter part of October and the stores in the small town of Chiefland, Florida were already putting up Christmas promotions. Jane and I had two small girls whom we wanted to know the meaning of Christmas. How could we get an even hand with the commercial endeavors? Somewhere I had heard of Advent. I grew up Baptist, so I had no idea what it was about, but I knew that it included a wreath, the lighting of candles, and that it started four Sundays before Christmas Eve. I needed all the time I could get to promote Christmas rightly.

I was in the rural area and didn’t have much help. There was no Internet in those days. The local florist didn’t know much more than I, but encouraged me. I purchased one wreath for our family and one for the church to whom I would introduce the thought.

The local Methodist minister said that all he knew about the Advent Wreath was what he read in the catalogue from Cokesbury. If I had gone to that book I probably would not have used red candles. I did use the white candle, but didn’t call it the Christ Candle.

With preschool children the devotional around the wreath had to be quick. The two girls argued over who did what. So the chores were divided and alternated between lighting the candles and, after the meal was over, snuffing the candles with each child under careful adult supervision.

We often used only one verse of scripture, but once we used the Jesse Tree that "kinda" gives the salvation history of humankind from the beginning to the coming of the Christ Child. Other times we used Advent calendars that had little doors the children could open behind which was a short scripture. Always, the lighting and snuffing of the candle was an important part for what happened between.

This ritual has become part of our family life and tradition. Many different wreaths later Jane and I still use Advent to get ready for Christmas. Our youngest daughter this year requested our church Advent booklet which has daily devotionals written by the church membership.

The lighting of that candle each week is a focusing experience – we stop, think, meditate, and pray in anticipation of the coming of the Christ Child. Then on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day we light the Christ Candle to celebrate the long awaited birth of Christ.

Surprise Me

By Janet Bryant/ Mississippi State, MS

I appreciate your thinking of me regarding a Christmas memory or tradition. I know that you have been soliciting stories for quite a while, and I had given it a good deal of thought. Interestingly enough (and a little disturbing to me), I don't recall many Christmases growing up. I am quite certain I enjoyed them each and everyone, but I am a person who lives in the present. I'm not sure what that says about me, but I don't file away a lot past events like most people. But I do have one account of Christmas that largely shaped the way I feel about my personal gifts.

When I was twelve years old, the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a white turtleneck sweater. They were in vogue that year, and I seriously wanted one. Remember that I am one of nine children, my parents were factory workers, and in the early sixties money was not abundant in our household, but there were seven children at home to buy for. Love abounded but not cash. We knew we would get one "big" gift and the usual array of fruits and nuts in our stockings.

About two weeks before Christmas, I accidentally found my Christmas present, already wrapped. My curious nature got the best of me and I unwrapped it to see what it was. Well, of course, it was a beautiful, white turtleneck sweater, but now that I had seen it, I knew exactly what I was getting. I was crushed to think that there would be no surprise on Christmas morning. I re-wrapped it and placed it back in its place.

I convinced myself that there would be something else, but alas there was nothing else. I was so sick at heart over not having the anticipation of waiting and wondering. To this day, I insist upon not knowing what my family is going to get me for Christmas; I do not pick up and review my packages under the tree; I do not even glance at them. I sincerely want the anticipation and surprise on Christmas morning.

I hope you get a nice collection of stories; I do enjoy reading other people's recollections.

Silent Night

By Ken Hester/ Pontotoc, MS

Christmas is special. Many people have Christmas memories that cause the heart to warm. One of my favorite Christmas experiences happened when the roads were covered with ice and the electricity was down. When we didn’t make our scheduled arrival in the Delta due to the weather conditions Mama asked Diddy, "What are they doing today?" Diddy’s reply was right on, "They’re doing what we’d do in their shoes. They’re making a Christmas memory." It was such a memory that it inspired me to write it down while it was happening. Here it is:

"Christmas 1998, though very special was everything, but warm. As a matter of fact it was cold, iced over even. The parsonage, being fully electric was rendered inoperative for heating purposes due to the iced limbs falling on our power lines." I was pastor in a small community, technically a village. "When the people discovered their power loss, the widows and elders were visited by a host of do-gooders in four wheel-drives who needed an excuse to get out in the slick stuff.

For us younger ones, we were expected to fend for ourselves. For the Hester family that meant getting to some heat. So, Temple, Kate, and I moved across the pasture to our friends’ home. Thankfully, our friends were our neighbors who also had gas heat. Doug, Gaye, and their boys, Jack and Luke, make for great camping partners, as we would test for a few nights.

Christmas Eve was filled with cooking on a butane stove, Wal-Mart runs for more batteries, playing with children, rearranging Christmas plans with family, disciplining children, stories of Christmas past, tearful recounting of missed Christmas traditions of the past, and assessing the tree damage done by the ice. Christmas Eve night, however, was full of more charm, wonder, [and] excitement than I expected amidst the inconvenience.

With the shadows dancing across the den from the kerosene lanterns and candles, us parents worked hard to explain that Santa comes only when every child goes to sleep. Of course, mine was the last to exchange her excitement for fatigue.

The children were nestled all snug in their makeshift sleeping arrangements with sugarplums or M&M’s dancing in their heads. The parents helped Santa set up their toys. The battery powered radio played Christmas carols and the warmth from the fellowship was more endearing than the five-panel space heater. The quieted giggles from the parents’ struggle with instructions, and the stupid, private joke about a Phillip’s head screwdriver made us forget, for a moment, that our togetherness was supposed to be an inconvenience.

Just a few minutes remain for this Christmas Eve. Doug and Gaye have joined their children in dreamland. Temple is not far behind them. I, like my daughter, am the last to exchange my excitement for fatigue. The radio is beginning to fade as the batteries are nearing their end. It is truly becoming a Silent Night.

With just a little reflection of the day’s wonderment, I am reminded of the One who started this whole celebration. It was such an inconvenient birth – scandalous even. Some call Him illegitimate. I call Him Master. Though inconvenient, He came. He, however, did not inconvenience anyone at the Inn. Though inconvenient, He accomplished the horrific task of redeeming me from my sinfulness. I guess every relationship worth treasuring is, at least a little bit, inconvenient. He taught me that.

Tomorrow we’ll do Santa, brave the semi-melted roads for a chance at a shower, and embrace those who first taught us about relationships. We have a fuller day tomorrow than today. I’m sure the Christmas rush will overcome my nostalgia. For now, however, the experience under this gas-heated roof has warmed more than my body – it has warmed me to my soul."

My Blue Christmas

By Barbara Carter/ Pontotoc, MS

You know what they say about fashion, "If you hold onto something long enough, it will come back in style." Well, I guess that's true with Christmas decorations, too.

Can you believe we once had aluminum Christmas trees, spotlighted with revolving colored lights? In the early 60's, I somehow convinced my family that we needed one of those George Jetson monstrosities. That was also about the time it was in vogue to use solid colored lights on your tree and/or strung on the outside of the house and shrubs.

We had recently moved into a new subdivision in Ripley that bordered on a major highway. The back of our house faced the highway across the backyard neighbor's lot. We had a den/dining area with sliding glass patio doors that opened onto a narrow balcony on the backside of the house. From the side of the balcony along the exterior wall of the house ran a set of steep steps, entering the backyard and accessing the basement door. Along the balcony edge and down the steps was a wrought iron railing.

That year we (probably I) decided to put our wonderful, aluminum Christmas tree in front of the patio doors and focus a blue spotlight on it to catch the glistening aluminum limbs. We also strung blue lights around the balcony railing and down the steps. This could all be seen from the highway. What a beautiful (?) sight. I loved the blue glow of that Christmas.

This week I was finishing up my Christmas shopping and hurrying home after dark from the mall. Coming down Highway 9 from Sherman, on my right was a house strung with blue Christmas lights. What a moment of nostalgia!

Now, who's going to be the one to brave the aluminum Christmas tree?

Christmas Belle

By Dot Bell/ Pontotoc, MS

Dot Bell has been granted the opportunity not many of us are given. This Christmas Season , she is being allowed to relive the birth of her youngest child in anticipating the arrival of Leah Bell Pair's first baby. Dot gave birth to Leah, on the day after Christmas. Leah is now "great with child," and the prospect of having another Christmas baby in the family has opened the floodgates of Dot's memories. As told to this writer, her memory follows:

I was due to deliver on Christmas Day [twenty-nine years ago this Christmas]. Knowing what I knew from the other three, (I was very regular) they were either born on the day they were due or a few hours early, so I was so afraid I wasn't going to get through Christmas without going to the hospital. I had three others at home, and all of them were expecting Santa Claus. That was back in the days when the stores were not open on Sunday, and with Christmas falling on a Monday, I had to finish all shopping on Saturday.

I remember being in Fred's on the twenty-third finishing up my shopping and people saying, "You still haven't gone to the hospital?"

I told them, "No, not yet. We've got one more day, and I hope we can get through Christmas.

Christmas Eve got here¾ Christmas Eve night got here¾ the kids went to bed¾ Santa Claus came, then Jerry got a call about two o'clock in the morning from the funeral home where he worked. I told him I was having pains, and he said at least Santa had made it, so the kid's Christmas would be out.

Jerry got back home around four o'clock. About six-thirty the kids got up and opened their presents. We ate breakfast and loaded up the car and headed off to Pickwick. Jerry's parents lived there, then. We got there with me still having labor pains. I can't believe we did that, but we did. See, Leah can't even travel. Her doctor won't let her, and I don't have the nerve to tell her I went to Pickwick with labor pains and stayed the whole day.

We came back, bringing Mamaw Bell [Jerry's grandmother] with us. We left Tim, Cindy, and Phil with their grandparents at Pickwick, and I came home to have a baby…sometime.

On the way, we dropped off Jerry's grandmother in New Albany. Jerry got a call from a funeral home in Houston asking him to embalm a body for them. Mamaw Bell told Jerry he couldn't go to Houston when his wife was about to have a baby, but when we got in the car, I told Jerry it was going to be a while before the baby came and for him to go on.

I had gotten a new set of dishes for Christmas; they were brown stoneware. When I got home, I washed and dried all of them, took all of the old dishes out of the cabinets and boxed them up, and filled the cabinets with my new dishes.

About nine-thirty Christmas Night, I called my doctor to tell him I was having labor pains. Actually, he was not my regular gynecologist, but was one of the other doctors in the group. With it being Christmas Day, Dr. Pryor was off, and the doctor on call was not too thrilled about the possibility of having to deliver a baby on a holiday.

He said, "D_ _ _, woman, cross you legs and call me in the morning."

I said, "Do you really want me to?"

He asked if this was my first baby, and when I told him it would be my fourth, he said, "H_ _ _, you get on over here, now!"

I won't ever forget him grabbing Jerry by his tie and gruffly asking him, "Are you the d_ _ _ man that started all this?"

He's a good doctor, but his bedside manner was not anything like Dr. Pryor's. Still, early the next morning on December 26^th, Leah was born.

Life for the Bell's has not been the same since! Leah came into this world with a zest for life, and in this writer's opinion, turned upside down the relatively peaceful household her parents had once known. Leah's bright red hair was the first sign that things would never again be the same for Dot and Jerry Bell. Leah's life has been an adventure from the beginning. Personally, I'm curious to see if having a baby will slow her down a little. I can't help wondering if Leah's baby might arrive a little early and get here on December 26.

Should that happen, "Look out world."

Bodock Beau Christmas Humor

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer was created by Robert May in 1939 as a promotional gimmick for Montgomery Ward stores. After careful research, I now believe that May must have read the following account of Rudolph the Great.

There once was a czar in Russia whose name was Rudolph the Great. He was standing in his house one day with his wife. He looked out the window and saw something happening.

He said to his wife, "Look honey. It's raining."

She, being an obstinate type, responded, "I don't think so, dear. I think it's snowing."

But Rudolph knew better. So he replied, "Let's step outside, and we'll find out."

Lo and behold, they stepped outside and discovered it was in fact rain.

Rudolph turns to his wife and replied," I knew it was raining. Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear!"

On behalf of the entire staff here at Ridge Rider News and Ridge Rider News Online, Merry Christmas to all.

Beau

Missing Elf

Submitted by Ed Dandridge

Newellton, LA