Christmas

Some people love their family. Some people love their friends. Some people even love objects like lamps. Those loves are wonderful, and I learned about them at different times in my life, but there is a love that can be difficult to feel and even harder to act upon. It is the kind of love that gives even when it hurts. The kind of love that cannot always be appreciated by those that receive it, but it is needed like a life-saving medicine that has a foul taste.

I had heard about that kind of love many times in my life, under many different names. Names like compassion, sacrifice, unconditional, or agape. All of those names put a different spin on the profound truth of love. I had heard them defined, however the meaning did not find its way into my heart until the Christmas my Dad was unusually tired. I noticed my Dad doze off while opening his new bag of socks, but being an average self-absorbed child I dismissed it, after all he was an old person. Yet later on that day my older brother was noted to be tired as well. It was then I learned of my Dad’s late night adventure.

The night of December the 24^th all were snug in their beds in my old home, all except two. My Dad was finishing up the evening’s to do’s, and my brother the evening do nothings. Dad would have gone to bed much earlier than my brother, but something happened that kept them both up far longer than either one would have wished. Thunderously loud chimes echoed throughout the house. Someone ringed the doorbell and hard. My brother an adolescent not at all inclined to answering doors continued reclining in front of the T.V. set. This was not to last long since my Dad soon appeared before him and asked a loaded question.

“Son, you got your shoes on?”

Translated from Dad speech this means.

“Are you prepared to do something outdoors for me? “

My brother knew whatever it was would be unpleasant, but he obeyed just the same. A man on the young side of being old was at our door. He was drunk and in need of a way home. My town has no buses or cabs at night, and the man had no phone numbers or addresses in his alcohol soaked memory. All he was able express was his earnest plea to get to his daughter’s home for Christmas.

Soon, my Dad and brother were driving across town following the man’s drunkenly babbled directions. Several hours later, they came to apartments that matched the man’s description. Holding their breath they knocked on the only lit door. To my Dad’s great relief it was the right one. The woman inside was also relieved to see her Father safe. He had been delivered to her by men that did not even know his name.

Why? I asked. Why were they willing to be a midnight cab for a complete stranger? My Dad explained to me, at the time, about ‘loving thy neighbor’, but I was not satisfied. Even if they felt sympathy, how did they motivate themselves to go out into the frigid cold night, and on a holiday? My Dad smiled and said that the ‘how’ was the same as the ‘why’. Love is why and how you do the right thing.

Now because of the lesson of that day, I am able to awaken several times a night to a screaming baby and still be able to handle my toddler in the morning. I can rub my spouses’ back even when I do not care to do so. I can eat a veggie snack instead of a bowl of ice cream.

This love I have learned is stronger than circumstances. It does not need ideal weather. It does not watch the clock. This kind of love does not require coffee to get started. (However helpful it may be.) It only needs the will to wield it. This love will continue to give me the strength to care for my children as they grow. It helps to keep me healthy. It gives me inner joy and peace. This is the love that never fails.
(I wrote this two years ago, but it still holds true.)