Waking up

The cold gave me a quick slap when I shuffled out the door to get the water* for the coffee that I desperately needed. Brisk, bright and beautiful; a perfect albeit cold Christmas morning. Huddled in the freezing van, driving the few blocks to my shop, I started thinking about the houses I passed.
Young widow.
Guy who lives with his mom.
Grumpy couple.
Retired teacher on oxygen…I wonder why he needs it.
Sweet old lady.
Recently abandoned and divorced.
Single mom.
Troubled kids.
Alcoholic dad.
Young family, struck with cancer.
Nice old couple…whew, they’re happy…I think.
As I continued on my very short way all I could think of was the song “Eleanor Rigby” by The Beetles:
All the lonely people,
where do they all come from.
All the lonely people,
where do they all belong.
We make a big deal of giving at Christmas. People give to charities, work at soup kitchens, put together care packages for soldiers, collect toys for underprivileged kids and carol at retirement homes. All great things–wonderful things.
But what about all the lonely people sitting alone in their hurt and pain on Christmas morning? Where is the peace on earth and good will toward men for them? Does celebrating the birth of a Savior help ease their pain?
For some of those in the homes I passed, I know it does. Even in their alone-ness, they know peace and joy.
But for many, I couldn’t answer because I’ve never bothered to find out.
After retrieving the water and heading back along the same route, I prayed for each home and prayed that I wouldn’t forget about the people tomorrow or the next day or the next. I prayed that somehow, I’d be able to share the love and message of Christmas well beyond December …that these people in homes would become more than just Eleanor Rigby’s and Father McKenzie’s to me this coming year.

*my shop has an R/O system where we get our drinking water for home.

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