The dog. Stormy. Every time I write about Stormy my statistics go through the roof. I get a ton of emails. The dog wags her tail. With nothing but good journalism in mind, I present another Stormy story.
The last few weeks have played havoc with my sleep pattern. Between extra hours in the Santa suit and my work schedule being a train wreck due to the holidays (I’m forced by the joys of a seniority system in which I have none to take the middle of the week off when it’s a holiday.)
Just another random desert photo.
I Can’t decide what day it is or when to sleep. Consequently the poor dog is unable to predict when I’m going to be home, if I’m going upstairs to change for work or crawl between the sheets. When it’s summer weather I use those transition days to get up super early, eat breakfast, and write or take a walk. When it’s -13 (like today) I pull the blankets up tighter and sleep about 15 hours instead.
This morning Stormy had had enough and woke me up at 0700. Fine, needed to get up anyway. After watching her dance around on the super-cold sidewalk we each had breakfast. She had a dog biscuit and I had a Cliff Bar. Kind of the same level of treat, we both like them better than cereal/kibble. But before we got to the morning menu, I sat down to watch some television.
Much to my surprise she hopped up on the couch with me. That’s happened more often of late. She never sticks around terribly long. Today was the break in the pattern I’ve been waiting for this past year. Once she was done nibbling the pillows, she swung around and laid next to me, head on my leg. For the next 1.5 hours I gently rubbed her nose, her side, her legs, and rested my hand on her. She snoozed.
If you’ve ever had a rescue dog in your life you will recognize this as a big step. She let her guard down and just wanted to be loved. I didn’t dare move the entire time. Only when the stomach grumbling kicked in did I get up for our treats.
Thank you, Jesus, for softening her heart and building her trust. It was the best morning we’ve had yet. And it’s early days in this love affair.
I sometimes wonder how people who don’t believe in God account for the wonderful things that happen in their lives. Even at my most bitter, agnostic moments I still felt that tug of God deep down. I knew the good stuff wasn’t my doing alone – and the same with the bad stuff.
The other day I wrote about the Good Neighbor Meals. I have reread that post more than once and have been amazed every time I watch the video. It has caused me to spend a bit more time than usual being thankful for my life.
Thanksgiving is a day set aside for thanking God for our blessings. That doesn’t seem to be often enough for me. I have found myself doing that several times a day in the past few years. I stop and thank God for all of the gifts he gives me on a regular basis. I get out of my chair and get on a knee on occasion, because I’m humbled in his presence.
Today, in no particular order, I’m going to list some of the things I’ve been thankful for of late. Hopefully you will have a similar list and take some time to reflect on God’s love as well. Continue reading →
We’re probably in trouble if I’m quoting lyrics from the 1980’s, but it sure fit today. Please read on to get some potentially life-changing information. It’s a longer post, but some good photos to help move it along. Here’s the first one!
I have worked with a group that provides “Good Neighbor Meals” every second and last Saturday of the month for the last five years or so. We work out of the basement fellowship hall of a church in Saint Paul, right near the capitol. I started out washing the big pans, graduated to whatever was needed, moved to cooking, and now, twice a year my wife and I sponsor a meal. We buy all the food, do the cooking and con our friends into serving and doing the cleanup work. This video was taken last Saturday – it amazes me every time I watch it. The video was shot by our friend Michael Stoebner.
It’s -13 outside this morning. I feel a great sense of concern for many of the fine people who joined us for that meal. My heart rests a bit easier because we handed out thousands of calories and dozens of warm coats, sweatshirts, blankets, and gloves. It’s not a fix for the problem, but it’s a start.
That’s my point today – you don’t have to fix the problem, but you do have to try. The Good Neighbor Meal is a great place to start. With the meals I sponsor we feed 150 people and our volunteers. It works out to about $10 a week that I put toward each meal. So, for the equivalent of a couple of fru-fru coffees every week I provide a great meal to some folks that really need it more than I need a Latte. Jesus was totally forthright about us having to take care of others. This meal, and the work that goes into it, provides the feeding of the hungry, love of your neighbor, and clothing the naked that the Bible describes.
My volunteer corps are worthy of a mention here because they were spectacular. I had almost every group in my life working with me that day. I had someone I went to high school with (Hi Dave!), several fellow Christian writers (Gail, Adam!), photographers who had worked with Santa (Donna), friends from church (Diane, Shawana,) tutors I’d taught beside (Pat, Pam,) and a host of others including people I’d been to Haiti with this past year – Michael!!! Heck, we even had a visiting missionary who is on vacation from Haiti join us – Elisa, you’re the bomb!
These people, all of whom have busy lives (and about a dozen others) got there early and worked late. They contributed money, served our guests on china (yup, dignity is a big part of this meal,) and flipped burgers next to me. Not just sliders – we had restaurant quality seasoned burgers, baked beans and bacon (lots of bacon) and chips. Top it off with some good coffee and a cupcake and – well, click this link to see the pictures. They won’t all fit here.
People just like you. People who take the need to love their fellow man seriously. People following the words of Christ.
You can do it as well. Get a dozen of your friends together and talk about helping out. If you all pool funds it’s inexpensive to do a meal. I spend between $400 and $600 and serve some really fine meals. If you serve a simpler meal you can easily do it for under $400, probably closer to $300. Split 15 ways that’s just $20 bucks each. We’ll provide some core volunteers to help get you through the process and make it work. We’ll help you plan the menu, work with you to cook for a large group (it takes some practice) and coordinate your cleanup. You provide the hands and the food and it will all work out.
We need the help. My friends Pam and Pat have shouldered the load for years. I’m looking for people in the Twin Cities who can step up and do this once or twice a year. It’s fun, it’s relatively easy, and it’s God’s will. So, please click on this link and head to our Facebook page to get more information on how you can do the Good Neighbor Meal with your friends, coworkers, church, or scout troop. (Yes, it would be a great project for a scout who is working toward Eagle.)
In case you’re wondering about the title of this post I will now provide the answer: I burned my thumb on the grill scraping it down. Like Dire Straits said, “…maybe get a blister on your thumb.” It’s a small price to pay to serve others.
It’s just about time for me to fire up the sled for the final visits of 2013. I’d like to share some of this year with you today. I’m leaving this post up until Thursday at least, maybe a little longer. I hope you take a few minutes to read today’s post and ponder the information and observations I’ve got on the spirit of Christmas.
First, there is one reason for the season: The birth of Jesus Christ. All of the rest of it is selling. Including Santa. I am proud of what I do, but I do try and make it clear that Christ is the impetus behind my visits and appearances. I proclaim that word on each visit. Sometimes softly, sometimes just a little louder, sometimes at full throat. But it is always there.
Families do not take enough photos together. While I am overjoyed to take pictures with “just the kids,” I am very persistent about parents being in the frame. Grama & Grampa as well. And anyone else in the group. I also delight in taking photos of the groups who have invited me to visit their party. It doesn’t always work out, but I try to offer it whenever possible. The reason is simple: that family might be torn asunder the minute they leave my presence by illness or injury. It has been my observation that those families that make a habit of taking that picture are happier. It’s an indicator of their closeness when they all pose with Santa. The most reluctant to get involved are dads between 30 and 45. For some reason they don’t want to be bothered.
We travel this road toward our destiny alone in the end. It all comes down to one moment of birth, one moment of death. In the interim we are grouped as families, coworkers, shipmates, and lovers. I regret not having photographs of my shipmates during the 1984-1989 period. We just didn’t do it. Partly for security reasons, partly because we were unaware of what it would mean later, and partly because of the cost of film. Dads, you have no excuse. No film cost, you’re there while the rest take the picture, and it ain’t gonna kill you. Be in that photo.
I want to hit that point again: Be in the photo. It shows your ultimate participation with your family. Sit on Santa’s knee with your wife. Sit with your daughter. Be a man who shows his love and concern for their smiles. End of lecture.
Each person who sat on my knee, stood next to me, occupied the bench to my right or left, or simply stood in the background, was special to me. I truly appreciate all of you who have spent your moments with me in 2013. I will miss my friend Jim who is moving to Atlanta. I will pray for all of you travelling this week. I will be aware, as I always am, when one of “my kids” doesn’t show up to the party – they’re gone. I’ve lost a lot of little friends over the past 12 years. Lots of small ones, and older ones, who have lost their battles with illness or injury. Some through accidents, some through suicide, some though loss of will. I am so honored to have had them for whatever time they’ve given me in my life. I am richer for their smiles. I hope I have given a few in return.
Two days ago I perfected my beard. It was the best it ever looked. A combination of great hair dressing by my friend Dennis, age and added gray, and technique with the makeup. I was tickled senseless. (Not that long a trip for me this time of year.) It made me realize that my beard wasn’t always all that great. I look back at some of the early pictures and shudder. Who was I fooling?
Nobody. I never set out to fool anyone. And perhaps that’s the key to my success. I’ve always striven to be the best Santa anyone has ever met. I may have botched the look from time to time, I may have fumbled the words to a story or forgotten a name. I’ve even caused a child to cry due to my inept teasing (I still feel badly that I caused tears.) I have learned lessons with every step of the journey. While this has resulted in more visits, greater popularity, more financial rewards, and an easier time being myself in the red suit, it has one massive benefit that cannot be understated: I have return visits each year.
The people who have sat on my lap, or brought their children and grandchildren to see me every year is growing. I am so humbled and honored that they come to see me. They bring their pictures – years worth of shots with me at various locations. I am Santa to those children. I delight in seeing them grow. I delight in seeing the couples come back each year. Some of virtually every color, creed, sexual orientation, and political persuasion. What two things do all of them have in common? They are God’s children and my friends.
Nobody is your enemy based on their appearance or orientation if you represent Jesus. It doesn’t mean that it’s your lifestyle, that you would desire their problems and worries, or that you endorse their political platform. It means that you are kind to them, smile when you see them, love them for their friendship, and pray for them as brothers and sisters under the domain of Christ. I’ve had some of the most amazing conversations with people in that chair over the last dozen years. I’ve prayed for them, spoken to them in Russian, Arabic, Spanish, German, and English. I’ve inquired about their health and jobs. I’ve choked up over their losses and sorrows. And I will continue to do so as long as God allows me to wear that red suit. That’s what Santa does. He works for his boss, Jesus, spreading the Gospel of love and kindness.
There is no hate in that chair. (OK, maybe for Rudolph: he steals the show. I could drop dead and if Rudolph stepped in Santa would be forgotten in an instant.) But there is a blessing to me that I cannot even begin to convey. I often sit there in the quiet times and marvel at this gift from God. I sit and look out over the room and pray for the people around me. I feel the Holy Spirit with me while I ask for blessings on those who have come to visit and are not yet ready to have that photo snapped. I am brimming over with love and passion for bringing that message to the people. I’m often asked if I’d like to take a break or have something to eat. I suspect people think I’m bored when I sit there and just gaze about with a grin on my face. Truthfully, I’m as happy as any man can be when I’m there as Santa. I couldn’t ask for a better spot in this universe.
This year I shifted the focus of my prayers. I don’t know why it happened, but I was moved to pray protection over the women and children who came to see me. I was concerned for their safety from abuse, both sexual and physical. God moved me to spend time in reflection and prayer over that topic. I have seen so many hurt faces in this job. I see people who are so manifestly unhappy with their lives, their bodies, their relationships, and their hearts that I was moved to pray for their protection and well being. I am largely invisible to adults. They let down their guard for a moment while the children are talking to me. But I’m watching them. And praying.
We all have burdens. I let mine overwhelm me earlier this year. It hurt. It was physically uncomfortable. Once I realized what was happening I started to pray more and work less. I dialed it back to the point where I was getting better every hour. I was worried that the Santa season would blow my fuses from the demands of 15 hour days and hundreds of miles on the road each week (in addition to the “full-time” job.) Just the opposite happened. I was refreshed and strengthened emotionally. I am physically tired. I have lost weight doing it. But I’m buoyed by the waves of love and kindness people lavished on me in the last 7 weeks.
Tonight I will go out as Santa for the last time for a few months. I have a long drive ahead and I’m praying the snow is minimal. I am praying that all of the families I will visit will prosper and thrive this coming year. I pray that my time with them will bring them closer to the word of Jesus. I pray that some comfort and love results from my visits.
Tomorrow I’ll rest. I’ll trim my mustache for the first time in 8 weeks. I’ll have dinner with my wife and my dear friends. And, most importantly, I’ll ponder the birth of our Savior. Of all the things I’ve done this past year, my attempt to bring that message to the world via KTIS radio was the highlight. My books, my blog, my visits were all important to me, but this video has traveled the world. I hope you share it, and its message, with your friends and family today. I wish you a Merry Christmas. I pray for your well being and life this day. I thank God for the opportunity to serve him.
It’s Sponsorship Sunday and I’m about all in. 14.5 hour day on the road today – take another hour for boot shining, buckle shining, shower, shave, beard and we’re clocking 15.5 on the ho-ho-ho trail. Consequently, nothing witty or deep but below you will find a simple request for this Christmas.
If you don’t have a physical gift for someone that you love, or that gift is superfluous (some people just get what they need when they need it and it’s hard to shop for them,) I’d humbly request that you pick a charity from one of the links below and donate as your gift.
Send your loved one a card with a note that you did a bit of God’s work in their name. It sure beats a 24 pound box of peanut brittle. (But if you have a spare 24 pound box, send me an email and I’ll get my address right out to you – love that stuff. Cashew brittle is better… here’s a link for some of that, come to think of it!)
