Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective

My neighbor’s tree doesn’t have a lot of leaves. The ones still clinging to the branches are lovely hues of orange, some yellow, and a few green ones that didn’t get the memo. It’s a sweet wonder amid subtle fall weather. No snow in the forecast. I doubt very much we’ll have a white Christmas.

It’s warm enough to sit on my back balcony, computer on my lap, and write. A breeze reminds me that mild as the weather is today, temps won’t be summery for several months. The sun shines, as if to argue. Despite its current bravery, it’s done some hiding too. A blue jay flits from branch to branch and flies off to find more action. The squirrels haven’t appeared yet, but I know they’re around. Perhaps they feel as languid as I do.  

Cars in the distance rush to their destinies. An air conditioner hums. One lone bird calls a plaintive note slowly, as if it’s too much trouble to pick up the pace. Small wrens hop around on limbs of the enormous oak in our backyard. The sun turns my arm hot as I type, and shadows make it hard to read the screen. The yellow lab in the dog pen next door is lonely but steadfastly ignores our dogs. They are beneath her notice. She loves kids, though, and always comes to the fence to let them pet her.

The church cantata, “The First Noel”, was lovely. The premise explained what the first noel means through the eyes of a young girl. Songs, testimonies, lights, and dancing made it a marvelous production. And so timely, with the waning knowledge of spiritual terms in our society. I’ve been in church since I was a teen, yet I didn’t know what noel meant. I thought it meant song. Wrong. It means birth. Because Jesus came and died for us, all humanity can have a spiritual rebirth—a first noel.  

I wonder how God would announce the birth of Jesus today. Probably wouldn’t need social media. LOL. None of our technological advantages existed back then, and the word spread just fine. Word of mouth is always the best way to get the latest news. People telling other people.

A flashy red cardinal plays in the trees. He’s busy about something, making his distinctive “chit” sound. Maybe he’s spreading the word in bird language.

When I was in our local Kohl’s doing Christmas shopping, a memory came to mind. The last time I took Daddy shopping was at Kohl’s. I suspected it might be the last time he would be able to shop for Mom, his wife of sixty-plus years. He stood near the counter while I searched for the jewelry she liked, then I steered him over. What I hadn’t counted on was his sales instinct coming out. He had forgotten a lot, but he remembered how to “wheel and deal.” It proved as much a gift for me as it was for him to get Mama a present.

We left the store with three pairs of earrings. To her credit, the saleswoman recognized his condition and gave him deals I’m not sure existed. Once we arrived back home, he showed me their hiding place, in case he forgot. But he didn’t. Mom was so surprised and pleased. It was special for all of us.  

He was gone seven months later. I’m forever grateful that I commandeered him into going. One last memory of him doing what he loved best.

My dad wasn’t perfect by anyone’s standards. However, he had repented of his sin and knew the Lord Jesus as his personal savior, so I know he’s in heaven. I’m grateful that I don’t grieve as one with no hope. I’ll see him again someday. On the other side.