Happy Hanukkah!

Tonight is the last night of Hanukkah 2012.  This year I finally got around to reading 1 Maccabees. Quite an amazing story.

Emmanuel

I've had many thoughts about Connecticut swirling in my head the last 12 hours. I wrote a rant to my mother, then copied it onto my blog here, then re-wrote it, and finally decided to not include it in either the email to my mom nor on my blog. It's now sitting safely in my journal, where it should probably stay.

So many thoughts... and my predominant thought is that, somehow, the message of Connecticut is not unrelated to the message of Christmas. I'm not talking about the commercial Christmas, nor the sappy sentimental Christmas. The true message of Christmas is not "Happiness and warm feelings to the world, because now God is on our side." Rather, it is "Joy to the world- joy, that mixture of contentment and peace that is produced through faith and remains unshakable in the midst of trial- because God has done the unthinkable in order to save us from the mess that we have made while trying to run our world without Him.

Yesterday at lunch, before I heard about the shooting, I was telling a friend that my family always lights up a giant cross on our silo for Christmas and Easter. I acknowledged that a cross is not a normal Christmas decoration, but I think it is a vital reminder. That is why Christmas is good news of great joy.

A friend posted a this link to Facebook, and I think the author did a fairly good job of summarizing at least a part of what I have been thinking:

http://www.joshlehman.com/thoughts/what-i-plan-to-tell-my-kids-at-dinner-tonight/

Encounters

As I went to visit my girlfriend on Saturday, I came across a couple of little beggar boys. I knew one of them quite well- I see him at least two or three times per week as I walk to work. Unfortunately, because it was a Saturday, I hadn't been expecting to see him and I didn't have any peanuts for him in my pocket like I normally would. So I said "Hi" and then "sorry, next time" and kept walking.

I hadn't taken more than a couple of steps before I started feeling bad. Why should my forgetfulness mean that he doesn't get anything? But I looked around and didn't see anything nearby that I could buy for him, and I was already running half an hour late... I walked a good two blocks as I tried to decide whether to turn back or not. As I walked a big group of beggar boys walked past- probably a dozen of them.

There must be a beggar boy for every block in this city; am I supposed to feed them all? I stood on a bridge over the freeway and contemplated the situation as the crowd of boys sauntered past. Finally I decided to go back and buy my little guy some peanuts. Or fruit. Or whatever I could find. I wandered all the way back to where he usually stands, buying a massive loaf of bread on the way, only to discover that he was nowhere to be found. I walked to my girlfriend's apartment, assuming that I would at least see some of the other beggar boys along the way, but surprisingly enough I didn't see any.

I have this habit of realising what I should have done when it is far too late, and then trying to do it anyway. As far as I can remember, I have never yet succeeded in doing what I should have done in the first place- all the more evidence that I need to be constantly in prayer and listening to God's leading.

The good news is, my girlfriend needed bread, though she didn't realize it until later that evening. It all more or less worked out.

But I have a better story. I think. Yesterday I was walking home from work, just beginning to climb up a flight of stairs, when a small hand slipped into mine. I looked down, startled, and saw a beggar boy looking up at me with a smile on his face. He obviously recognized me. I expected him to ask for money, but he didn't. He just held my hand as we climbed the stairs together.

The stairs were part of a walking bridge over the autoroute- the same bridge where I had stopped on Saturday. As we crossed the bridge, the boy alternated between looking up at me and smiling at the people who were walking past. He was obviously enjoying the attention. As we walked down the steps on the other side, he called out to one of his friends. His friend did a double-take when he saw us, then tried to act as if it was perfectly normal. At the bottom of the stairs the boys went one way and, after wishing them farewell, I went my own way.

I'm not sure why the boy wanted to hold my hand. Perhaps it was security. Perhaps it was the notoriety of being friends with an adult. Perhaps he just wanted companionship. Whatever it was, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and I thank God that we were each able to brighten one anothers'
day.