Lessons from a Stocking.

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In the food chain of stockings, it's nothing special, but something deep within stirred when my mother recently sent this childhood relic. Making her way through some long-ignored Christmas box, no doubt, she found this glimpse of Christmas past and decided to send it to her 54 year-old little boy. Like few other objects, it carried me back to the Dr. Denton mornings of rushing to the fireplace in my parents’ room at first light where my stocking hung, farthest on the right.

 Such time travel can lead to stifling nostalgia, but it can also feed an adult’s soul. To remember when life was not so complicated, when the content of a stocking was a great concern, can renew one’s heart. To feel again the joy and happiness that is uniquely Christmas can awaken one to the years of debris that now clouds our spiritual receptors. 

I was told by a reliable source that if I am to receive the Kingdom of God, I am to become like a child. It was a lesson heard too early, before I could understand it’s meaning, but the stocking now hanging on our mantle teaches the lesson anew. 

So bring on the lights . . . turn up the carols . . . and hold on tight to the people and traditions that speak to your heart! 

Let’s go back, if only for a moment. Let’s stop squinting at the world and open our eyes wide again. Let’s lift our burdened shoulders and dance. Let’s race our children to Christmas morning, where hanging on the mantle is all we need to know.

Letting Leaves Fall

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On a recent hike, I breathed deeply and tried to take in the wonders of Fall. There were many leaves already on the ground, crunching under my feet, teams twirling in the air like synchronized dancers, and still others clinging brightly to the trees.

Despite the fact that the season points to winter’s inevitable chill, Fall remains my favorite time of year. Perhaps it’s because of my time in New England, where I think God invented the season, or the fact that I spent much of my time in the school world where Fall marks an electrifying season of new life, but, whatever the reason, it’s a season that awakens my soul in surprising ways.

As I made my way along the familiar trail, I noticed I could see things usually shrouded by the leaves. I saw mountains not usually visible, and noticed as clouds and birds swirled above. All of it was visible because the leaves had fallen.

For me, it was a reminder that I could create such a season in my personal and spiritual life. Like the leaves twirling in the air and those resting on the ground, this could be a season in which I let things twirl from my to-do list and routine social obligations rest on the ground, revealing distant sights and cooler breezes.

New leaves will arrive, bringing new life and fresh air, but now is the season to let leaves fall, air chill, and views appear.

To everything there is a season . . .  inside as well as outside. A gust of gratitude swirls within like the breeze blowing the leaves.

Going home

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“Who says, ‘you can’t go home’?”
— Jon Bon Jovi

The email arrived from someone I did not know. It turned out he was the chaplain of my high school and was interested in me coming and speaking to the students at one of the morning meetings. Honored, I accepted and then tried to think of something to say. To the students, having an alumnus come speak is no big deal, but to the alumnus it is as exciting as it was intimidating.

It’s been 35 years since I attended the school and much has happened, to the school and to me. Trying to bridge the gap between what was and what is took much time and reflection, but, in the end, I decided to speak from the very core of my being. I refused to put on a show, appear more than I am, and that meant taking a deep breath and being completely honest and vulnerable.

I arrived early and wandered the once familiar halls. Like me, the place looked different but was also the same as it was 35 years ago. I decided to speak to the only student I’ve ever known, me, and so in the presence of the current students I had a conversation with me when I was a student. In the conversation I spoke of the things I wish I had known years ago.

I have no idea what my words said to those in attendance, but for me it was a powerful and cathartic experience. As I drove away, I realized I had just experienced a homecoming of sorts. On the surface, one might say I returned to the home that was once my school, but I know the homecoming was deeper than that. I returned to the person I was and am, stood comfortably in my skin as if for the first time, and it was wonderful to return home.