livin' the dream: Hello December!

How dose time go by so quickly? I wish life would just slow down. I feel like someone just shoved me into December. I find myself thinking wait, what about the fall? I guess we did already do Halloween and Thanksgiving. It just went by so fast it almost feels like a dream and I have to dig around in my head to remember it. How sad is that. Well this week was REALLY CRAZY. With two trips to the pediatrician, positive strep tests, really sad, cranky, sick kids, my first Leila Bird Home show, ( thank's to Tammy and Sissy! It was awesome. ) and the Hive boutique I was not really feeling the Holiday spirt. I think it is safe to say I was feeling like a bah hum bug. Walt has pulled apart the advent calendar I love to death, ruined the ribbons on my Christmas trow pillows and un-decorated the bottom half of the upstair and downstairs Christmas trees! I wanted to pack up all the Christmas and be done. Could we just skip one of my favorite Holidays. Jane reminded me we had not read any of the Advent stories yet and we are four days into December. After I cleaned up the house, baked cookies for a baby blessing tomorrow and put the boys to bed, we sat down to read. The first story we read brought tears to my eyes. Actually I was sobbing and then Jane was sobbing. I had to get up and get us some tissue. I heart was filled with gratitude. I thought of my family and this special time of year. I could not be more blessed to be with them. To teach my children of Christ and his birth. I am so grateful for my reading time with Jane. It is one of my favorite times of the day. I hope she will have fond memories of reading together. Sobbing together. Learning together. To kick of the start of December, four days late, this story helped me get in the mood. I am now looking forward to the rest of this month, no matter how crazy it might be.

The Christmas I Remember Best

By Ivan T. Anderson

When the Allied forces made their big push into Germany, it was the duty of my military police battalion to take prisoners from the front lines into crudely constructed stockades. I shall never forget December 24, 1944 and the German prisoner of war who helped to make it more memorable for me.

It was a bitter cold night and I found myself on duty helping to guard more than twelve hundred German prisoners. To say we were a homesick group of men would be an understatement. The fact that is was Christmas Eve only added to our depression. One of our company, a man from the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, stopped blowing on his hands long enough to say, “What a cold, miserable Christmas! Just because we are stuck out here doesn’t mean we can’t do something about it. I’m going out and find a tree.”

“Forget it!” another M.P. shouted. “There are no trees around here; besides, we haven’t anything to decorate with anyway.”

Not to be discouraged, Smoky went into the darkness and later returned with a bedraggled specimen.

“You call that thing a tree?” our heckler continued. “In Texas we’d plow that under for a bush.”

With a positive attitude, Smoky began to decorate his tree with ornaments made from gum wrappers, candy wrappers, etc. Several of the men not stationed directly at the stockade began to help our zealous friend with his seemingly impossible task. As we worked, I suddenly heard a voice calling from the stockade, “American, American.” Turning toward the compound, I saw a German prisoner with one hand extended through the barbed wire. With his other hand, he was motioning toward me. I quickly threw a shell into the chamber of my rifle and approached him with caution.

What I saw in his hand astounded me. This prisoner had made a beautiful silver star entirely from gum foil that was a work of art. He placed the star in my hand and motioned to the top of our tree. Hoping he spoke some English, I said, “This star has such detail, are you a professional artist?” By his puzzled expression it was obvious he spoke no more English than I spoke German, so I took his contribution over and placed it atop our tree.

“Well, I’ll be!” the heckler began again. “I hate to admit this, but that bush is beginning to look like a real tree. Guess I should have kept my mouth shut, eh, Smoky?” (A loud cheer of agreement resounded from all of the men.)

As we completed our tree, we began singing Christmas carols, and I noticed several of the prisoners joined in on “Silent Night”. The last strains were fading into the night when I heard the same voice call, “American”.

This time the prisoner had both hands extended through the barbed wire. Again I approached with caution, rifle ready, and again I was amazed at what he held in his hands. This German sculptor had made intricate figures of Joseph, Mary, and the Christ Child. He pointed under the tree as he handed me his detailed work. I nodded my thanks and carefully placed the delicate figures where he had indicated.

As I placed the tiny figure of the Christ Child, made from a stick base and professionally covered with foil, the light from our fire actually seemed to give it a heavenly glow. I thought of how far we had strayed from the teachings of Jesus and felt tears sting my eyes.

Looking at the stockade, I saw that the prisoner was still by the barbed wire, so I hurried back, smiled, and warmly shook his hand. He returned my smile and the firelight caught the tears that were in his eyes.

Since the close of World War II, I have thought of this German prisoner of war numerous times. Our meeting was brief; we were two ships that passed in the night, and yet I feel this man would agree that our only hope for lasting world peace would be a return to the teachings of the tiny figure he so beautifully molded that cold December night. One thing is certain: If we love the Lord, we also have a genuine concern for all mankind - the two are synonymous.