Читать книгу The Yuletide Factor - Tim Huff - Страница 6

Prologue: Snow Globe

It’s a wonder that most of us never give up on covering our messes, hiding our foibles and mitigating our mistakes. It’s an exhausting path to choose over a lifetime, yet it is the path most chosen.

When I was a little boy, I knocked an expensive snow globe off a shelf in a department store, unbeknownst to my busy mom, several aisles away, who had told me only moments before not to touch it. It cracked wide open, and one by one, miniature villagers in scarves and mittens, tobogganers and ice-skaters poured out at my feet. In a panic I booted the shattered globe beneath the bottom shelf and then awkwardly worked to kick the tiny townspeople likewise into the shadows. It was a frantic few seconds. Leaving nothing more than a glittery puddle on the floor as poor wintery evidence, I ran to the end of the aisle, frantic to escape the predicament rather than have to explain it. The timing could not have been tighter—I literally bumped into my mom as she turned back to find me. She took my hand and insisted I not wander off again. As I was tugged away, I took one last look back, still anxious that my little-boy crime would be revealed. All looked good but for one little townsman lying face down far from the spill. He had escaped my galoshes.

We spent quite some time in that store after my cover-up, while my mom completed her shopping and paid at the till. All the while, all I could think about was that tiny little man lying in the ornament aisle waiting to implicate me by his mere presence. When guilt was my greatest concern, he was all I could think of. A lot of emotional energy and headspace wasted on fear and self. The very way many of us live our entire lives. Interestingly enough, the moment we left the store and I didn’t need to contend with him, I didn’t give him—or my misdemeanor—a second worried thought.

Snow globes are a strange treasure. One can control the speed of the swirling elements, but the characters ultimately remain unfazed. If only real life was like that.

A downtown Toronto blast of winter can be an all-sorts experience. And when icy wind chills meet thick moisture off Lake Ontario and swirl through the tunnel of skyscrapers in the financial district, ice pellets detonate like buckshot. The giant snow globe swirls ferociously, but those inside it are anything but unfazed. There’s simply no way to survive an ice storm but face down. Like a lost miniature villager awaiting a little boy’s boot.

It was in this battlefield of weather that I nearly stumbled over a forty-something-year-old man named Jim. Homeless and alone, he was ill-equipped for the storm’s assault and unconcerned by its consequence. No hat, no gloves, and covered in a frosty glaze of ice.

I like to think I’d have stopped for him regardless of the season, but I felt overwhelmingly compelled to do so because it was just days prior to Christmas. I sat on my heels at his side and offered him five bucks for a muffin and coffee and the validation of customer status that leery inner-city coffee shop staff often require. A bite to eat and a few minutes of escape from the squall. But he did not reach for the money. He simply looked at me sideways and began talking, as though we were commiserating friends, midway through a lengthy conversation.

“Y’know, it’s not the freezing cold, or the hunger…

“It’s not even wondering where I’ll sleep tonight, or being afraid...”

He paused, tilted his face into the bullets of ice, and continued.

“It’s having no one be proud of me that I can’t bear.”

His head dropped, and he began weeping.

I stayed, and we visited for another fifteen minutes, until we were both enshrined in ice. Finally, he stood when I did. I offered him the five dollars again, and he accepted it. Then I walked north with the wind at my back, and he walked south, directly into the storm.

How metaphoric.

Since that day, I have not engaged or passed by a single homeless person and not wondered where their longing truly lies. If their bellies hunger for food more than their spirits long for hope. If their bodies long for rest more than their minds long for peace. If their hearts long for anything at all more than to have someone be proud of them.

While I received the overwhelming gift of his unconditional transparency found in a few real-time minutes of his story, the gifts Jim received from me were fifteen minutes of a stranger’s ear and not even enough money to buy a cheap lunch. While I would never sell short the modest value of that, my hunch is, while I recall those moments with Jim often, he has not thought of me again since the moment he finished a coffee and cruller that day.

The simple story of my encounter with Jim could easily be spun into countless talking points worthy of contemplation, just as I hope the stories in the chapters that follow will be. But, as footings prepared for the foundation of this book, there are but two imperative questions:

One: Would I have stopped and done the same if I hadn’t been waist deep in the Christmas season?

Two: And if so, even then, would I have done so for the right reasons?

Y’see, even at Christmas, when a great many of us might consider ourselves at our best in regard to sharing extra portions of the fruit of the spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control—all too often the motivation is steeped in a subtly (or sometimes not so subtly) self-serving “feel-good” agenda.

Don’t get me wrong; I personally think the feel-good factor is lovely. In fact, I have banked an entire career on its rewards to the psyche. The concern is not at all that feeling good by doing good is a sweet perk. Yay and yay again to that! I am a firm believer in the plain truth that we receive as we give, and that in that magical, hopeful exchange, we are ultimately at our best. Rather, the concern is that all too often “getting” is the driving force.

In fact, if ever there is a time when genuine goodwill stands to be lost in the mire of personal agenda, it’s at Christmas. It’s both a nuanced peculiarity and a mighty reality, never more obvious than in the December inquiries received by small, mid-sized, and large street missions alike.

There’s a common dialogue that occurs in countless locales across North America that (while admittedly generalized here) rings only too true far and wide. It goes something like this:

Caller: “Hello. My family [substitute at will—church group, office team, youth group, etc.] would like to come and be part of serving a Christmas meal.”

Mission: “Thank you so much. But we already have too many people who have offered for the month of December. We are actually over-volunteered for Christmas meals. However, we sure could use the same kind of offer and help later in January or through February!”

Caller: “Oh my. Hmmm. Well, we really wanted to do it at Christmas, y’know? I will call another mission and see if we can do it there.”

End of call, and repeat. But sadly, no callback in January or February.

There’s some kind of societal magic about engaging with the poor and the poor in spirit at Christmas that seemingly vaporizes just as magically on Boxing Day. A strange stardust that begins to fall over people at the start of December, sometimes even in late November, but lifts before the Christmas leftovers are gone.

I think that synergetic spirit generally originates from a sweet, soulful place of recognizing one’s blessings during a time when we agree to do so en masse. This impulse is no doubt heightened by the aesthetic of the season’s greeting card sentiments, music, movies and decorations. And, should things be as they should be, in consideration of the first Christmas—for many people, this tender spirit is ultimately borne out of humble reverence to Emmanuel’s arrival, away in a manger.

But what if that impulse persisted throughout the calendar year? Indeed, the challenge and encouragement presented to all of us in these pages is to find a way to live in the deep tenderness and kindness of Christmastime all year long. And the unambiguous question to and for Christians specifically is, “Do you?” and, if not, “Why don’t you?” Would this not be the very tenor of your faith?

Given its distinctly “Christmassy” title, I know the odds are high that if this book has found its way into your hands, you have likely either received it as a Christmas gift or purchased it for yourself or to share during the season of Advent. If so, welcome, and a happy Christmas to you. I am honoured and humbled to have you take it on.

Still, nothing would make me happier than to imagine readers picnicking in the park at the end of the school year or sitting dockside in the middle of July with this book in hand, signifying that this is as much a warm weather read as it is a stocking stuffer. Perhaps an intriguing choice for a springtime book club? Or a prospective read for an autumn retreat?

As you journey through this book, already on the other side of Moira Brown’s gracious foreword, you will now find some non-traditional features. Spaced between series of chapters you will find interludes written by two of my most esteemed friends and best buddies—acclaimed singer-songwriter Steve Bell and celebrated author Greg Paul. While there are several words used in the dictionary to define “interlude,” my favourite is “breathing space.” Both Steve and Greg kindly accepted my invitation to provide breathing space contributions that hone the subtitle’s centrepiece focal points: comfort and joy. Additionally, this is the third book that I have written that includes a benediction. While my books introduce readers to many intriguing people by way of others’ and my stories, my hope is always that anyone turning the pages feels that what is written is somehow intimately for and about them. Thus, taking into account that a benediction is ultimately meant as a “blessing,” the closing words from greatly-admired journalist Lorna Dueck are written as a final gesture of bestowing blessing upon you.

But perhaps what most sets The Yuletide Factor apart from other books of its kind is the chapter-by-chapter reflection and discussion guide. It was a component I really wanted to include, but I knew that it would be best that it not be written by me. There is more than enough from my head and heart in the chapters that follow. Again, I wanted to be sure that things ultimately turn back to you, the reader, and wanted to have someone else bring a fresh voice to guide things accordingly. When I proposed the reflection and discussion guide idea to my publisher, I did so while telling him that I was completely sure that I knew the perfect person to write it! My dear friend Anne Brandner is highly gifted, insightful, thoughtful and humble. So much so that the very tenor of Anne’s bright and warm personality was what I was (and am) certain would be ideal. And now, the book in your hand includes this special component complementing each chapter, ideal for personal reflection or for group discussion.

The Christian adaptation of Yule or Yuletide, repurposing it as Christmastide, is a far cry from its ancient origin. Yuletide was a complex pagan festival fraught with drunkenness, bloody sacrifice and idols. But we humans are great over the long haul at shape-shifting, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. While the Norse god Odin would be hard-pressed to agree, I would suggest on the Yuletide front it is definitely for the better. Spinning the wheels of time forward, the term “Yuletide” is contextualized in the chapters before you with all the warmth and sentiment most of us have come to receive it with in modern times.

With that said, all in all, The Yuletide Factor will no doubt resonate with the softening of hearts that comes with the warm glow of December. Still, this author’s own heart’s desire is that it might spark that same urge to share blessing and goodness no less during the dreary February blahs, the sweltering dog days of summer, or any swirling snow globe season you find yourself in.

No writer writes unbent by his or her own ever-changing theology or philosophies. Even, or perhaps “especially,” those who claim they do. As it was in the first two books of what I envisioned to be a three-part series (Bent Hope, Dancing with Dynamite and now The Yuletide Factor), what follows leans in to my own ever-evolving take on humanity, hope, celebration, grace, and God—authentically and humbly shared, for your consideration.

Ultimately though, there is one foundational reality this book builds on that I consider to be far more objective than subjective, something I would consider a widely accepted truth. That is that—regardless of the presence or lack of depth or persuasion of one’s own spiritual faith—many, if not most, North Americans enter into and dwell in the Christmas season more thoughtfully, generously and graciously than they do the rest of the calendar year. Thus, while this book unapologetically exposes the beauty of the Christmas season, it also explores the sad state of affairs in simply choosing goodness as a synergetic seasonal experience, and it challenges one and all to factor in Yuletide at every opportunity.

While the plotlines touch down on everything from street outreach to Santa Claus, adored traditions to laughable misadventure, winter follies and multi-season escapades, they all return to the true Christmas story in one way or another. Not simply a stagnant snow globe scene capturing but a moment; rather, an astounding and supernatural story meant to impact lives every second of the day, every day of the year. A story meant to free all people from living in fear and hiding. A story meant to set all people down a pathway guided by the signposts of comfort and joy. A story that ultimately exposes life’s broken snow globes and facedown villagers in the light of understanding, deep compassion and extraordinary hope. Transcendent far beyond the warmth of the Christmas spirit, the story of infinite and eternal blessing. Where there are no cover-ups to tend to or messes to hide.

All of it validating my heartfelt welcome to readers and, regardless of the date on the calendar when these pages find you, wishing one and all, with deep sincerity,

Merry Christmas.