Christmas Lights

In Richmond, we’re very into our tacky Christmas lights. We work for hours, stringing colorful bulbs in elaborate displays, both inside our homes and out, and then we drive around gawking at the work of our neighbors.

            In the annual battle I fight to overcome my resistance to the runaway commercialization of Christmas, I used to be very anti-tacky lights. They were gaudy, unnecessary and represented everything wrong about the way we celebrate the birth of Jesus. 

            But God, with his typically quirky sense of humor, has done something he seems to make a habit of doing. He’s taken something I didn’t like one bit and used it to pretty radically change my thinking. Today, I am very pro-tacky lights, and could probably even be talked into taking one of those limo or bus tours.

            The change in attitude began when the close relationship between light and the one whose birth we’re celebrating dawned on me. Light and Jesus are inextricably linked, and always have been. Writing of the events of Christmas years before the first one happened, the Biblical prophet Isaiah said, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”

            Christmas is, indeed, the coming of the Light.

            Light is intertwined in the accounts of Jesus’ birth. When the angels appeared to the shepherds tending their flocks in the fields that night, “the glory of the Lord shone around them.” When Joseph and Mary took their eight-day-old son to the temple, they were greeted by Simeon, a wise, respected and elderly man, who declared the infant “a light to reveal God to the nations.”

            Not long after, the Three Magi followed the light of “his star in the east” to find their way to Jesus.

            For the rest of his time on this planet, Jesus shares and spreads light. Perhaps his closest disciple, John, wrote of Jesus, “His life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness can never extinguish it.” 

            Later, John added, “God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.”

            Jesus spoke of himself as “the light of the world,” and explained, “I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark.”

            The light that shone from that manger in Bethlehem some two thousand years ago continues to illuminate our path today, and will someday banish all that is dark, forever. As singer/songwriter Michael Card wrote, “Celebrate the child who is the light! Now the darkness is over.”

            So, let there be light! Even the tacky ones.

Tom Allen

                        

The Christmas Spirit

Pam does this every year. She prints out this festive sign, making sure she includes every major delivery service at the top, then fills the box with bottled waters, nabs, and lots of candy bars. Since we get several deliveries a day for weeks, the box has to be replenished often. Yesterday, around 5:30, I heard Lucy barking her head off, looked up and saw a guy walking up with several boxes in his hands. I can’t recall if he was FedEx or UPS, but it doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Anyway, As he placed the boxes on the porch I saw him look down at the box, then gently open it. I opened the front door to get the boxes and thanked him for his hard work. He looks up at me and says, “Wow, this is really nice. I haven’t had anything to eat since 10:30, I’m starved!!” Then, I told him to take however much he wanted since we were going to have to refill it anyway. “Aww man, thanks.”

Then he started to dig through and found a Snicker’s bar and a Reese’s Peanut butter cup. “I love these,” he says, “You sure?”

“Absolutely!” I answered.

He took two of each, then hustled back to his truck and floored it on to the next stop.

Look, I know its a job, like any other. We all work hard. Nobody hands out candy bars to their mechanic or the cashier at the grocery store. They work hard every day too. But, I don’t know—there’s something about these delivery guys and girls at Christmas. Every time I see one of them they are busting it, hustling all over the place. We sit on our comfortable sofas in our pajamas, drinking hot chocolate ordering this and that on our laptops. Meanwhile in a distribution center a thousand miles away workers are flying around the warehouse in response to all of our clicking. Then, in what feels an awful lot like magic, our heart’s desire gets delivered on our doorstep 24 hours later. 

But, its not magic. It’s the result of a logistics operation unheard of in the 4000 year history of commerce on this planet, whereby invisible orders sent through the internet halfway around the world wind up under our tree with speed and efficiency impossible a decade ago. At the heart of this vast, delivery system juggernaut are the men and women who lay it at your door, working 12 hour days, seven days a week during the holidays. Yes, they are getting paid overtime, making more money than they will any other time during the year. But, it sure feels good to show them how grateful you are that they do what they do.

So, as we get swept up in the hustle and bustle, lets look around at the frantic people serving us. Smile, tell them what a great job they are doing, and tip them generously. There’s no better way to get in the Christmas Spirit.

A Culinary Triumph

Like 90% of all husbands, I feel a fair amount of guilt around Christmas. I watch my wife running around like a chicken with her head cut off, shopping, baking, planning for the thousand details involved with the season. Meanwhile, all I have to do is get the Christmas lights to come on without burning the house down. I spent maybe two hours today finishing up my shopping. So, for the next 10 days I will drift through the house trying to make myself useful while Pam worries herself to death sweating Christmas logistics. 

But tonight, I actually was useful. My wife had plans to meet the ladies of her family for a birthday dinner for her niece. That meant that I was on my own for dinner. She said I could either get takeout or make the chili she had planned to make before the birthday plans. I decided on making the chili…

Frankly, it was a triumph. I felt quite proud of myself. And now we have leftovers!

The Next BIG THING

Pam and I are in a show hole, that thoroughly modern affliction whereby out of the 365,981 shows offered by Netflix, Prime Video et al, you can find nothing to watch. The last couple of nights we have auditioned two shows, neither of which captured our imagination. Practically everyone we know has been telling us to watch Yellowstone, but we watched the first three or four shows of season one and could not find even one redeeming character to root for. We aren’t terribly picky entertainment consumers, but we do prefer characters with at least something that passes for likability. The person doesn’t have to be Mother Theresa or anything, just someone who we can pull for. This is why we don’t watch reality television which is nothing more than an orgy of narcissism. I would rather endure a root canal without anesthesia than watch a single episode of the Housewives of—-anywhere.

But, thanks to the indispensable Gary Larson, I have stumbled upon an idea for a television show that I would actually pay to see…

Imagine an hour of commercials written, directed, produced and acted by…DOGS!! Listen, this has already been done on a smaller scale and found to be wildly successful and popular. The best Instagram accounts are all about dogs, mostly Golden Retrievers since…well, since they are the most adorable and classic hams. So, this idea already has been proven and tested. Somebody needs to take the entrepreneurial risk and make this happen. Commercials for everything from soup to nuts brought to you by man’s best friend would be must-see TV.

Let Me Tell You About…Jingle Jam

Today, Pam and I got absolutely nothing done. We didn’t do any shopping, and despite a growing pile of them in what used to be our dining room, wrapped not one single present. Instead, today was essentially Volunteer Day. The morning had us at our church’s big Christmas event put on by the Children’s department called Jingle Jam. We had heard about it over the past five years but had never gone. This year our niece Bernadette, one of the children’s pastors, roped us into working the event. We arrived a little after 9:00 and left three hours later. (More about this event later)

Then we grabbed some lunch and got back home in time to haul our solo stove out into the street and set up a s’mores making table in our culdesac for the neighborhood party which featured the official arrival of Santa…

Just about the time we got the fire good and hot we realized we were late for our afternoon shift at Hope Thrift. Friends promised to keep an eye on it so the entire neighborhood didn’t burn to the ground, and off we went to the store. By the time we got back home around 5:45, it was pouring down rain and we felt like we had both been run over by Santa’s reindeer. A crazy, wild, fun and joyful day.

But, lets get back to this Jingle Jam deal…

Pam took lots of pictures but none of them captured the magic of the thing. Every inch of the inside of our church looked like an explosion had gone off at the Christmas Mouse. I had never seen so many inflatables in one location in my life. The theme of this year’s Jingle Jam was the adventures of Bobby the Elf, the lessor known successor to this guy…

Did I mention the inflatables??

My favorite? This one, hands down!

Our job was to run a game called “Package Stackage”. The idea was to get kids/families to see who could stack a series of empty cardboard boxes up into the shape of a Christmas tree. That was fine. And it started out that way. But it didn’t take us long to realize that the kids were far more interested in seeing who could stack them all up in the highest tower and then send them all flying all over the place by crashing into them…sorta like life-sized JENGA. It was crazy fun, and we had the kids lined up to get in on the fun. When all of a sudden we looked up and these three beauties were standing there!!

These guys are our adorable next door neighbors and their sweet Mom had brought them to Jingle Jam. Later we all took a picture together…

Then it was time for the big show. We all went inside to where we normally have our worship services, only this time it had been transformed into the…

Lincoln Tunnel!! For the next hour, 600 people got to see the highest octane, most over the top energetic rendition of Bobby the Elf ever told. It featured an actual video trip to New York City, where we got to see our heroes visiting all the places that Buddy the Elf had been years earlier. It also featured a harrowing giant inflatable candy cane competition. But the highlight of the show was a 600 person recreation of the famous Buddy the Elf snowball fight in Central Park! Watching my sanctuary given over to this insanity of joyfullness did my heart so much good. At the end when Bobby learns the true meaning of Christmas, I was exhausted just having watched it. All the intrepid actors, singers and dancers had to do the same show two more times.

It’s hard to put into words how wonderful an experience it was. First of all, to everyone involved in the planning, organization and execution of Jingle Jam, I salute you all. I am told that it took over 175 volunteers to make it work. Pam and I feel lucky to have been among them. One more thing…I grew up in churches where sometimes the actual building was a thing held in high and reverent esteem. When entering the sanctuary, people talked in hushed tones. There isn’t anything wrong with that really. I mean, I get it. There certainly is a time for being reverent. But, one of the things I love about my church is that it doesn’t worship the building. It isn’t afraid to unleash a thousand cotton snowballs in the place and let kids and their parents have at it. And don’t think for a minute that I will soon forget which little kiddo from next door hit me right in the kisser with a fastball either!

So, hats off to everyone who worked and planned and worked some more to provide nearly 2000 people a wonderful way to get into the Christmas spirit by acknowledging the birth of our Lord and Savior. Can’t wait until next year!

Strong Women

I don’t remember the year and I can’t recall exactly what class it was, but I do remember one day back in college, I found myself in the midst of a spirited discussion about women in politics—in particular whether there would ever be a woman President of the United States. This was in the late 1970’s, at a time when there were far fewer women in any branch of the government than there are today. The consensus seemed to be that no, no woman would ever be President of these United States. Once this consensus was reached several people, all males, sought to explain the reasons why this was true, and I heard lots of comments about the fairer sex, even suggestions that women did not possess the necessary temperament to lead a nation. Being over 40 years ago, many of the things that were said in this discussion seemed rather mild and even mainstream. Back then, as now, I was a fairly conservative guy, but I remember distinctly being confused by the notion that women were somehow unfit by temperament to be President, so much so that I offered a vigorous objection in the form of a question—“What the hell is wrong with you people??”

Before anyone fits me for a halo, there is a simple explanation for my reaction to this conversation from 40 years ago. It’s not that I was then, am now, or ever have been a feminist. My views on this topic were simply a result of my life experiences. When you grew up in a household run by Betty Dunnevant, and populated with sisters like Paula Roop and Linda Schwartz, you are quickly disabused of the notion that women lack the necessary temperament to do anything. On the contrary, I was convinced that my mother could do literally anything she set her mind to. Although Mom never attended college, she was smart, quick-witted, and extraordinarily well read. To say that she was strong-willed or opinionated would be the understatement of the century. Then, there were my sisters, Linda the nurse who basically raised me the three years we lived in New Orleans while Mom and Dad worked and went to class. Linda—the woman who served as a nurse to expectant mothers in the charming neighborhood of Creighton Court in Richmond’s east end. Fearless is the word that comes to mind. Then there was Paula, my younger sister, who has managed to excel at every job she has had in education for 45 years, despite working under the tutelage of countless incompetent bosses, male and female. But, it gets even worse.

I married a woman who is smart, equipped with a perfectionist’s devotion to excellence, and the type of organizational skill set that would be the envy of any executive suite in the country. You give Pam enough Google Docs and she could split the atom. 

Then there’s my executive assistant, Kristin Reihl, a woman so headstrong and opinionated, half the time I feel like her employee.

Now, I watch my daughter killing it teaching 7th grade English, blowing the doors off anything she is asked to do. I notice that my son married yet another strong, confident, and incredibly capable woman. After a while it occurs to you that all of your life you have been surrounded by strong women, some by birth, but many others by choice. So, when you hear people spouting nonsense about women not being tough enough, strong enough or possessing the right temperament, you just shake your head and think, “What a bunch of morons! If my Mom was still alive, she would wipe the floor up with you!”

It’s the Most ———— Time of the Year

Ok, so it’s Sunday night, the 5th of December, less than 3 weeks until Christmas. The Dunnevant’s have purchased exactly zero presents. Pam has done exactly zero Christmas baking. Since 2021 is the year that we will host her side of the family here on Christmas Day, not to mention the happy fact that all of our kids and their pups will also be here for the festivities, there is a to-do list a mile long and getting longer as the days slip away. But all is not lost. This weekend has produced tremendous progress on one front…Christmas decorating.

Here at Dunnevant Central, we thrive on the division of labor, never so clearly defined than it is where decking the halls is concerned. I’m the King of the outside and Pam is the Queen of the inside. It works quite well…

My area of responsibility was largely a fiasco of blown fuses and frayed nerves. But, despite repeated frustrations, I was finally able to get everything to light and stay lit.

Pam, on the other hand, basically decided to start from scratch this year. First she redecorated the entire family room last month, jettisoned the red, and brought in the blue. In addition, she decided that the theme this year was to be more sacred and less secular—meaning out with Santa and in with Jesus. This is no weirdo rejection of presents etc..just a momentary pivot toward the spiritual underpinnings of the season. Notice that when my wife does something, she goes all the way, even removing art from the walls to make room for seasonal paintings. Plus—everything has to match—because of that theme thing. Whatever she does, it always seems to work. The inside of our house looks more beautiful this time of year than it ever does. There’s much more than the one picture of our living room, but if I posted them it would be awfully close to prideful boasting, and I just heard a sermon about the dangers of that, so you’ll have to use your imagination.

On the personal fitness front, I accomplished something this morning I hadn’t done in probably five years…

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I ran a sub-eight minute mile and lived to tell about it. Of course, I was so gassed I had to walk the rest of the route. But, hey, I’m 63.

The Christmas train has left the station and its picking up steam. The next three weeks will be a manic succession of shopping, wrapping, baking, cleaning, parties, then more shopping, wrapping, baking, cleaning and parties. Somewhere during all of it I’ve got a tone of cases that need to be taken care of at work before year’s end. Meanwhile, poor Lucy stares at us blankly, wondering why on earth her humans bring whole trees inside the house but if she attempts to bring even one lousy stick through the door we have a fit!