It's A(nother) Wonderful Life

"Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. 

When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?"

Nearly every New Year’s Eve, we watch “It’s A Wonderful Life” with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed.  We did again this year.  As, I understand, many other families do each Christmas Season.  Released in 1946, “It’s A Wonderful Life” has became a classic in the truest sense of the word — an artistic work of enduring value.  So, what made George Bailey’s life Wonderful?

Two themes grip me in George’s story.  One is the portrayal of a boy, then a young man, than a mature father and husband confronted time after time with the hard choice of doing what was right instead of what was easy; of doing what was good for someone else rather than fulfill his own ambitions.  George Bailey’s choices are rarely pleasant, starting with disobeying Mr. Gower in the drugstore, then sticking by the old Building and Loan after his father’s death, letting his brother Harry pursue his dreams while George is stuck in Bedford Falls, turning down Mr. Potter’s attempt to buy him out.

The other element is the life that George and Mary Bailey build — together.  What makes a marriage work?  Initially, there is that indefinable something that attracts you to this person unlike any other.  You recognize in them a fit for the empty places in your life, strength for your weakness, calmness for your anxiety, someone whose mere presence enlivens you.  But at some point, there has to be more.  There has to be a shared desire to subsume what “I” could accomplish to what “we” will accomplish together.  Often, especially at the beginning, this is nothing more than a vague thought encompassed in the desire to “live happily ever after”.  

One might think it was George who did all the sacrificing.  Mary got her dream - George and the Old Granville House on 320 Sycamore with every room occupied by one of their brood.  But, it was Mary who made a crucial choice on their wedding day to fork over their honeymoon funds to keep the doors of the Building & Loan open.  It was Mary who participated in the house-warming for the Martini’s in Bailey Park and, by implication, so many others that netted very little financial gain for the Building & Loan or the Bailey’s.  It was Mary who by some mysterious insight knew that the heart of her man was a good one.  It was Mary who knew when it was time to tell her children to “pray very hard” and when it was time to take action, too.

My personal dreams were not nearly as well defined as George Bailey’s.  But, like George, there are times when I have felt the frustration of the "drafty old house" and "why did we have to have all these children, anyway" and the inconveniences of the Uncle Billy’s in life.  I have had my moments as a "warped, frustrated young man" whose anger caused the same kind of tearful, “Oh, Daddy” in my children and brought a reproach from my wife and their mother.  In spite of that, my ‘Mary’ has seen something in my heart which I sometimes lose sight of.  She has known when to pray very hard and when to take action.  We have built something special together that I never could have experienced alone.

I may never get out of my Bedford Falls, I will never build that skyscraper, and I will likely continue working with mundane financial software for a number of years yet.  But as I was reminded by more than one response to our Christmas family picture, I have indeed been blessed with a wonderful life. I have a wife and children and grandchildren and friends who are priceless.  I am pretty darn close to being "the richest man in town".

Why Dads Need To Be There (Late Christmas Commentary)

Yes, though the 12th day of Christmas is well behind us, I need to mention one last thing about that beloved season.  As, I suppose, a large swath of the the American populous does in December, we use our normal Friday Night Movie Night for Christmas movies.  Our #1 Doctor Who fan discovered that David Tennant (Doctor #10?) was in this Christmas movie: Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger and acquired it so we could be further impressed by Mr. Tennant.

BRIEF REVIEW
If you go in for highly improbable, deeply sentimental children's Christmas movies with a large dose of slapstick British humor (or should I say humour?), then this is for you.  Which, what is Christmas if not a story about the highly improbable and deeply sentimental?  Needless to say, our family does fit, given that we are either chronologically or mentally all still in our childhoods.  If you need to be impressed by taut story lines and brilliant acting, though, you will be disappointed.  This dichotomy is obvious when comparing the average reviews by average people (high end) to the average critical reviews (low end).

POINT OF THIS

Along with the fun and music - lots of quite singable music, even for me - Nativity 2 had a secondary theme about the influence of Dad's, highlighted in part by the strained relationship between the main character and his father.  But the real kicker, given my background, was this song plunked into the middle of things:

When I was a boy, I dreamed he'd find me

Fall down from the sky, to come and guide me

Take me by the hand of life and show me all he's learned…

Everybody's got a dad but me

Everybody's got a dad but me

I need a Dad to keep the demons from my door,

I need a Dad to stand beside me, 

Slay the dragons, fight my battles, help me win the war,

Show me what this heart inside me, 

is still beating for.

Now I am a man, I still dream he'll find me

Catch me if you can, the ties still bind me

Lead me down the rocky road, 

Show me who I am...

Everybody's got a dad but me

Everybody's got a dad but me

There are times when I think I have finally 'outgrown' that vague emptiness resulting from an absent father, then along comes a little reminder like this that I can't get out of my mind.  Two things usually result.  First, a sense of regret for that loss of relationship with my Dad.  Second, a renewed determination to do the very big job I have been assigned as father to my girls.  When they are watching Christmas movies years from now, I want them to smile at their memories of Dad.

A Sweet, Subdued Celebration

Our Christmas was memorable for the unexpected.  First, my father-in-law was admitted to the hospital a few days prior with a severe infection in one foot.  Originally, it was hoped that he would be out by Christmas, but it turned out he was to stay until three days after.  

In spite of that, we were anticipating a somewhat normal celebration until mid-day on Christmas Eve, when both my wife and I succumbed to a potent, swift-acting stomach flu.  Others in the family had been afflicted with it earlier but we had (so far) avoided it.  We were to host a Christmas Eve celebration at our home and the next day have Christmas dinner at our daughter's house nearby.  Just an hour before family was due to arrive Christmas Eve, we had to call everyone and cancel.  Still, our eldest daughter and her husband came over to spend the evening with the rest of our girls.

So, between trips to the bathroom, we lay weakly in our bedroom listening to the sounds of our offspring making the best of the circumstances, enjoying the company of each other.  It is hard to describe the comfort that comes when you are essentially incapacitated, but can still catch an inkling of the Christmas joy experienced by your offspring.  By Christmas morning, we were over the worst of the symptoms.  Which meant we could at least be physically present for breakfast and the subsequent unveiling of the contents of Christmas stockings.

Meanwhile, my wife's brother and sister visited their father on Christmas Day.  Their Christmas dinner was at the Olive Garden.

We were at last able to convene for a post-Christmas dinner yesterday.  The food was great, the children noisy, and the realization that nothing can be taken for granted was palpable.  Grandpa was out of the hospital, but not yet able to join us.  Conversation wandered to "tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago" with a special gratitude because this Christmas was so different, reminding us that each Christmas gathering is a gift, and that while next year holds no promises, it does offer hope.  'and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts' (Romans 5:5).

Christmas Cards

Each December, the mail brings Christmas Cards.  Some are from family we will see on Christmas Day, or friends we may see at church Sunday or work the next day.  There is little their card will tell us that we don't already know about the year past.  Still, we are happy for each one we receive.  In addition to those, there are a significant number from those whom we have not seen in years.  The only link between us is that annual effort these dear ones make to get that card (pre-printed or customized with photo), add the address to the envelope (by hand or by computer label), insert a greeting (lengthy letter or simple signature).  

Whatever the level of creativity or volume of news, the simple arrival of that Christmas greeting represents so much. 

"Another year has passed and I am alive, whether well or feeble.  I am thinking of you as I prepare your card for delivery.  I remember fondly the times we shared together, though long past.  I am thankful for the Providence that had our paths cross and for the hope that one day we will see each other again."  

Knowing how that touch across the years and the miles speaks to our hearts is why we still send out our own Christmas Cards. It makes for a truly Merry Christmas.  Thank you.

Surprised By Santa

I hold a prejudice against Santa movies.  What does Santa have to do with Christmas, anyway?  So, when my family suggested The Santa Clause 2 for our Friday night movie recently, I was not in favor.  We had watched it several years ago.  My recollection distilled down to a middle-aged Tim Allen chasing a younger woman so he could marry and keep being Santa (the 2nd 'Santa Clause').  The rest of the family insisted it was really cute.  Cuteness is oozing out of Miracle on 34th Street, another 'Santa' movie that still goes against my grain.  Cuteness on its own does not sway me.  However, I succumbed on the pretext that I was tired and would probably sleep through it.  But a strange thing happened on the way to dream-land.  I began to see things in The Santa Clause 2 that I had either forgotten or not noticed the first time.

Such as a god-like figure (for what else is Santa?) coming to earth to find a bride to live forever with him in an eternal city of happiness (Ephesians 5:25-27, Revelations 19:6-9).  What about that North Pole?  A magical place where immortal creatures live a happy, purposeful existence mainly concerned with obedience to their Master and blessing humanity (Hebrews 1:14).  

We are shown an 'anti-Santa' seeking to overthrow the dominion of the real Santa, who wants everyone to get what they deserve -- a lump of coal -- while the true Santa 'cuts kids a little slack this time of year'.  A picture of grace (Psalm 51).  

Then there is the school principle, soon to be the future Mrs. Claus.  The offspring of two fallen parents (Genesis 3, Psalm 27:10), left with a hardened heart.  Through a supernatural demonstration of generosity to a crowd of miserable people, Santa breaks through the hardness  (Psalm 34:18, Ezekial 36:26, 2 Corinthians 5:17).  

Obviously, the analogies fall flat at some point.  The notion that Christmas would not exist without Santa Claus delivering toys is annoying.  Tim Allen still comes across as lecherous.  Yet, in spite of a very different intent, the yearning for an eternal happily ever after, for redemption from the hurts of a fallen past shines through in The Santa Clause 2.  Though rationality tries to squish it out of us, this instinctive desire for a transcendent reality is an essential part of what it means to be human, to be a creation made in the Divine Image.

And it shows up in the most unlikely places.

Light And Dark

Christmas lights have sprouted up on houses all over the neighborhood.  Except ours.  Our strand of large, old-fashioned bulbs spent three neglected years trimming our eaves until thoroughly bleached and faded by the sun.  I was finally shamed into taking them down.  Now, I am trying to convince the rest of the family that our not having lights provides needed contrast for the twinkling homes around us.  After all, if every house had lights, what would be the novelty in that?  I am not winning the argument.

The Christmas concert we attended last weekend opened with "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence".  The  Vanguard University choir filed in through the doors of St. Andrew's Presbyterian church holding candles and sang the ancient chant a cappella, including these lines:

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.

The coming of Jesus that we remember each December is about light breaking into darkness.  And yet, somewhere between the daylight savings time change and early December, I notice a creeping spiritual and emotional lethargy.  Part of it I attribute to S.A.D., something I scoffed at until I had enough time trials to observe the trend in myself.  In December, I am leaving for work in the dark, coming home in the dark, and spending most of my day in a cubicle far from a window.  The extra daylight hours I productively enjoyed during the summer have gone. In our highly-regulated society, we expect trains, planes, and emotions to run according to our schedule.  But, they don't.  Therefore, we find treatments.  Yet, I wonder if this seasonal response of my body and mind to the dark is not really the best preparation for the Savior.  I understand that the time of year we celebrate Christmas is a result of melding the church calendar with pagan practice and that Christians in the southern hemisphere are getting Christmas suntans.  But, I am who and where Providence has placed me, feeling the darkening winter days and looking for the Star that will break through once again.

P.S. - I recommend the Fernando Ortega rendition of "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence" as an addition to your Christmas music library.