WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Tis' the Season

     In the spirit of the Christmas season, I have chosen to connect three seemingly unrelated observations. But given my sometimes obnoxious habit of attempting to squeeze relevance from the unusual, exploring their relevance may be worth a shot.
     First, my family buried the matriarch of the Stroupe family this past week, as my 105 year old grandmother left us to reside permanently in her Heavenly home. When my grandfather died nearly sixty years ago (before I was born), Nomie became the glue that held the Stroupe family together. She raised her four children to value family, faith, and friends.
     She was a fixture in the third row from the back at the First Presbyterian Church and on those occasions when any of her family members was missing on a given Sunday, she would make note of it and, without judgment, expect an answer as to the reason.
     In her lifetime, she experienced World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, and all the other stuff that happened after those events. But she didn't worry too much about all that. She was more concerned with taking care of and praying for her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great great grandchildren (and all their spouses). She was a joy to those around her. Her spirit lives on in all of us whom she touched while here . . .
     I spent a few minutes with a group of my baseball players ringing the Salvation Army Bell outside of a grocery store a few days back. It wasn't awkward because there were so many of us and it was at a time of night when there weren't many shoppers. But having had just a smidgen of experience as a ringer now, I think I am now qualified to make a couple recommendations as to how interactions with bell ringers should go.
     Bell ringers aren't irritated when shoppers don't put any money in the bucket. They realize you've encountered dozens of buckets during the season and won't be placing coins and bills in them every time you pass by. Yet many of us well meaning folks are afraid to make eye contact with the volunteer ringers. And worse, we often choose a different entrance or exit to avoid them. This is a holiday tragedy, in my humble opinion.
     So here's what I propose: When we see someone ringing the bell and standing outside in the cold, let's wish them Merry Christmas as we pass by, and if possible, let's offer them a quick "Thank You for ringing the bell" as we enter and as we exit. We don't have to tell them we already gave. Of course you can give if you wish because the money goes to a great cause. But the thing the ringer enjoys most is a smile. If you don't give money every time, they don't pass judgment. They don't tell Santa you've been naughty. They simply ring the bell and spread the joy. And I appreciate that . . .
     And finally, a confession. It happened one afternoon at my office when my assistant coaches and everyone else had left the building for the day. Suddenly and without warning, there arose such a clatter on my office radio that I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. From the speakers I heard the faint sound of "Gloria" by Michael W. Smith, one of the greatest Christian Contemporary Christmas songs ever. Knowing I was alone, I cranked the volume to unsafe and obnoxious decibels and began singing, dancing, and movin' to the groovin' in a manner that stirred every creature in sight, which at that moment was limited to our building mouse. (True story: we do have a mouse and I'm sure at that moment he was stirring).
     As my desk pulsated with the rhythm of the beat, I came to my senses and said to myself, "Hey, you're 55 years old, act like it." Then I answered back to my self, "So what? The Child is born and I'm happy about it. Don't try to rob me of my joy." The mouse agreed . . .
     When the angels made their debut for the shepherds just after Jesus' birth, one of the first things they reminded them in Luke 2:10 was: "Fear not, I bring you tidings of great joy." A star with a tail as big as a kite danced in the night and told the little lamb, and the fabulous news eventually traveled to the shepherd boy, the King, and eventually to people everywhere.
     So I have decided to heed the angel's advice. I will not be afraid and I will be joyful. I will not fear death and I won't let the sadness of my grandmother's passing take away one iota from the fact she is dancing with joy alongside the twinkling star. I will purposely gravitate toward the store entrance where there are bell ringers and I will look them in the eye and thank them for spreading the joy, wish them a Merry Christmas, and pass along a "God bless you" as well. But most of all, I will sing and dance whenever and wherever the Spirit of Joy moves me. Especially at Christmas. Tis' the season for such.