PATRICK BUTLER, Having a Real Christmas Weekend

18 December 2010

Patrick Butler, UNDER THE WATERFALL

   My wife was “helping me” recently, putting the Christmas lights on the house. There she was on guard duty the other day, standing at the foot of the ladder while I strung up the lights.

    I told her that her presence was unnecessary, but she wasn’t buying it.

  “It’s already mid-December,” she’d said. “I’m staying right here until I’m sure the lights are up.”

  “OK, but I’m on it. I’ll get them up. Like I did last year,” I whined.

   There was a pause.

   “I don’t think I could go through that again,” she said gently.

   “Hey, the lights lit on time,” I said. “Sure, it was Christmas Eve, but you gotta admit, they looked good. All the way into April.”

   “You called them ‘Easter Lights’ then,” she said.

  “Colored lights, colored eggs. Whatever,” I said. “Works for me.”

    Peeking under my arm, I noticed Janet watching me with her mouth open as I stretched dangerously to attach lights to the roof. I love it when I can impress her with my feats of daring-do. I stretched a bit further.

  “Why,” she said aghast, “don’t you just get off the ladder and move it a couple of feet and not fall off ? You’re too old to be hitting the ground hard.”

  “It’s actually easier this way and saves time. Less work,” I grunted hard and breathing heavily, stretching a bit further to impress her more. Janet held her hands over her eyes. I smiled, secretly. I was really making an impression on her this time.

   “Oh, God,” Janet suddenly prayed and then fell into silent supplication, I guess. I’ve gotten used to it. In our house prayer suddenly breaks out and then for some curious reason, goes silent. It’s quite common at home, actually.

   “What?” I said. “What’s the matter?”

   “Do you remember Christmas three years ago?” she said softly, voice muffled by her hands. “When you fell off the tree house roof, trying to put up the highest Christmas Star highest on the block?”

   “At the hospital? Sure do. Best Christmas ever.” I said with glee.

    “That’s what you think because of all the medications,” she said. “But we didn’t get those presents.  The kids and I had to drive back and forth on Christmas week.”

    “But what a week it was,” I said, through clenched teeth, getting the lights onto the hook and cutting my fingers on the shingles. “All that free food.”

  “Free?” Janet said. “We could have eaten at five-star hotels for a week for what we paid”

   “Yeah, but all the nice people…” I said, lamely.

   “The staff that had to work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?” she said.

   “OK, the church group coming through and singing carols and hymns was good though,” I said.

   Janet fell silent.

   “That was good,” she said, and became pensive. “In fact, it was excellent.”

   “There,” I said, triumphantly. “There is always a silver lining, always something God is doing to cause all things to work together for good.”  

    “Yep,” Janet said. “I remember the choir praying for me and the kids for half an hour. They were a blessing.”

 “Yes, I remember the tears of joy flowing so freely from you. It was touching.”

   Janet became pensive.

   “Three women committed themselves to pray and intercede on my behalf for a year after they met you,” she said. “It was the best Christmas present I ever got.  It was a great year, too. I felt so…protected.”

  “We should have those wonderful women over sometimes,” I said, trying to “walk” the ladder alongside the house by twisting it on the top, while I was still on it.”

  “Oh, I’ve asked them,” Janet said. “They always just say they’ll pray about it.”

   “Huh,” I said, stringing up a new strand. “God must be keeping them pretty busy,” I said. “That makes sense. Prayer is a powerful ministry.”

  “Or God is protecting them too,” said Janet, sighing.

  “How so?” I asked, grabbing for the shingles as the ladder fell out from under me. Luckily for me, Janet was right there to keep the ladder upright, and me out of the hospital for another Christmas.”

    “Well,” grunted Janet, as she put the ladder back under my feet, “going where God wants you to, when he wants you to go there is the ultimate protection, is it not? Obviously, God didn’t direct them over for tea or coffee.”

   “Oh, I get it,” I said, breaking open a new pack of lights. “They may have had some kind of mishap coming over like a crazy car accident, or something similar?”  I chatted while reaching the last nail and hanging up the last string of lights

   “Something similar, I imagine,” Janet said, her fingers rubbing her eyes again.

    “There. It is finished,” I announced proudly. “The lights are on. Let there be light.”

   “Glory,” mumbled Janet, sounding relieved as she held the ladder’s legs and I stepped down. “Thank you Jesus… and Patrick, that there were no accidents this year.”

    “You’re welcome,” I said, plugging in the lights, and watching the colors as they came online.  I surveyed the soothing color scene before me.

   “You know,” I said quietly, “it’s actually pretty good that you made me come out and do this earlier this year. We can enjoy it more.”

   “Well, we can enjoy it longer too because Christmas is on a Saturday this year,” Janet said. “We can start celebrating Friday evening, and have a Christmas weekend right through church on Sunday.”

    “Hey, that’s a great idea,” I said.

  “It’s a rare opportunity,” said Janet. “We should focus on it.”

   I began to focus. Suddenly, I saw it. Christmas weekend!

   “We will! We shall,” I said. “Let’s focus on a real Christmas weekend from start to finish. Instead of rushing around for a single evening or morning of present giving, let’s  make it three days of Christmas, ending up right where it should be, praying, singing and rejoicing.”

   “I know I’m rejoicing,” said Janet, giving me a hug, her face shining in the colored lights. “Now all we have to do is stay out of the emergency room until December 27.”

  “No worries, honey,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder and admiring the lights. “I mean, how hard could it be?”