Consider This… From Chris
Frederick was on a Mission. A Quest, really. He had the resources he needed. For finances he carried some of his own money and a larger amount that had been lovingly gifted to him by others. It was not a large amount by most standards, but he felt quite rich. A greater resource he carried, though, was an idealism that is normally associated with youth; a love of life and family; a certainty that he could and would succeed.
But he had a problem. He was not sure what he was looking for. Beneath his excitement at setting out, he knew that this time he was on a quest he could not classify, a hunger that would not be easily satisfied.
As he stepped out of the house and carefully locked the door behind him, he hesitated, almost went back in. Like a sudden blizzard, memories swirled around him; his wife laughing as they walked together in the snow, his children sledding on the big hill, the whole family shopping for presents each Christmas, love deeply shared. He looked through the window at the single light he had left on, then turned and walked toward town, both shaken and lifted by the memories.
The struggle between his idealism and his uncertainty kept his pace slow at first, but as he drew near to the downtown area, idealism was winning. He entered the throng of shoppers with eyes bright and searching, a smile of anticipation on his lips. But for all of that, he passed through his favorite stores almost unseeing. He barely saw some of the things that he had thought he had to have, things he thought he needed. Nothing he saw spoke to this hunger he felt. He put his loose change in the Salvation Army kettle, and sat on a park bench to rest a moment, and think.
“Over there.” He didn’t as much hear the gentle voice as felt it. With a surprised start he looked “over there” as if someone had pointed the way, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Frederick sat tense, all senses alert, feeling the softness of his scarf and the hard bench he sat on; seeing shoppers with their packages and the homeless with empty hands; hearing the music and sounds of laughter and argument mingled together; smelling the mixed aromas of gingerbread, popcorn and car exhaust. His gaze wandered.
“Over there.” The soundless voice was still gentle, but more urgent. He looked again, and suddenly found that he was looking past himself and his own wants and hungers. He smiled the smile of one who has succeeded on his quest and found his mission. He stood up and went to help the one he had seen with his heart, the One who had spoken to his spirit. Christmas had come.
The Gentle Voice is calling us, too. Are we listening? Are we seeing?
Have a Blessed Christmas
Chris
