Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Home for Christmas (11/20/08)
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TITLE: The Line | Previous Challenge Entry
By Nancy Schneider
11/27/08 -
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The wizened old man standing in front of Stan seemed like his brittle bones would break from the icy winds blowing through the valley. Stan watched the back of his neck muscles turn purple as he waited for the doors to open for dinner. The men concentrated on pacing in place and blowing on their hands to keep warm instead of talking.
Out of the blue, the old man turned to Stan, catching him staring at the back of his neck muscles. He started with embarrassment to be caught, but he had read all the billboards and the poster boards tacked to the window of the building. His eyes were constantly searching for new information on a job or an apartment to keep his belly full and his skin warm.
The old man smiled a toothless smile. “Merry Christmas, sonny!”
“Same to you, sir.”
The old man looked at him quizzically. “You do not look like much in the spirit.”
Stan laughed a slightly cynical giggle. “Sir, look behind us, all the men, with no jobs or food. I don’t see much of the spirit here. Sometimes I wonder why we celebrate Christmas anyway.”
“There is a major reason we celebrate Christmas.” The old man said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Sir, where do you stay?”
“Why, here at the mission when there is a bed opened.”
“Where do you stay when there are no beds?”
“Sometimes I have to stay somewhere on the street, but that doesn’t happen very often.”
“Sir, that doesn’t bother you any, get you down, where is the God that is suppose to take care of us?”
“He is everywhere, watching us, taking care of us. No, son, it does not bother me, my lot in life. Sure, I wish I were a bit warmer sometimes, had a little more food in my belly, but I still have my life; I am grateful for my life.”
“I just don’t understand why I should be grateful for my life when it is such a struggle all the time. What quality of life is that?”
“Sometimes, sonny, you have to make your own quality.”
“With all due respect, sir, that makes no sense.”
“May I tell you a story?”
Stan looked forward to the still locked doors with admittance to a warm building with no one sight as of yet to let them in. He looked behind at all the men, looking more and more miserable by the minute. “Sure, nothing else to do around here at the moment.”
“I was once a young man such as you. All I wanted was a home for Christmas. My momma left when I was young and my dad did not have much time for me; always carousing around with the ladies, never came home. I use to take ketchup and add water to it for soup for my sustenance.” The old man’s eyes glassed over as he went back in time. “Eventually, this social worker comes and takes me away. I was sad to be leaving the only home I knew; despite how much I hated it. Anyway, shoved from foster home to foster home, I realized that the strength and joy come from within when you accept Jesus as your Savior. We can not control everything, which is why we are in this line. Now, I only have a short time left. An illness, you know. I know I will be home for Christmas and every day will be Christmas where I am going. That is what makes life worth it. Knowing that homes are may be temporary and unstable here; we have a home that is permanent.”
Stan was humbled by what the old man said. This was just a short timeframe in which he had his struggles, but here this man was, at the end of his life, knowing truly what it meant to be home for Christmas.
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