Pre-Thanksgiving

It's the day before Thanksgiving and my lovely bride of twenty amazing years, and seventeen more which she tells me were 'just okay' ( I swear, I thought they were all amazing! Oh, well . . .) is home enjoying a cup of coffee with me without having to rush out the door to teach school. 'So, this is what retirement is like.' I reflectively thought, 'You don't have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn, you can sit at the counter and eat your breakfast with your wife, you can pass the sales circulars towards her even as you grab the sports pages, and you can allow the news on the television to take the place of any sort of personal discourse you might be tempted to have. You can look at each other with that sort of 'how 'ya doin', 'come hither' look which has one eyebrow raised in anticipation, then you can look away and promptly forget why you raised, and maybe even strained, that one eyebrow. You can make the big leap of moving from the kitchen counter stools to the recliners so that watching the news on TV isn't such a labor (of having to sit up and all), you can catch a couple of extra 'Z's' if you want and, this is the big one, you can plan your day as you choose, instead of having it laid out for you as you live your life reactively to the needs of your job, those around you, and your family.'

'So, this is what retirement is like.', I reflectively thought, just as Nancy burst into my fantasy with the words, "And what is it that you scheduled at 10:00 this morning?" Oh, yes, a meeting. I planned another meeting, albeit a short one, but another meeting on the day before Thanksgiving. Is there no end to how much we perceive that we are the necessary cogs which make the wheels of the industrial age move on from day to day? How could I have done that, however inadvertently? Our youngest son, Ched, is home from the Air Force Academy and who knows where he will be next Thanksgiving, after he has graduated in May. Nancy is home from her vocation of teaching school in the nearby town of Marissa and will be needing some help to get things ready to celebrate Thanksgiving - and all of my other worship planning work is done for next Sunday.

"So, why did I plan this meeting?" is probably a very similar question to the ones asked by those who didn't make it to the stable in Bethlehem to see the Child and His parents. It is a resounding echo of questioned self-certainty throughout the ages, asked by men and women alike, as time and time again opportunities for sharing of ourselves with family in those 'important moments' of human history give way to our own need to express our perceived importance by, again, being away, taking care of 'more important things'.

Such is the world into which Jesus comes. He comes into the world of our perceived self-importance. He comes into the world where our jobs supersede our relationships. He comes into the world of our thoughtless planning. He comes into the world which knows Him not. He comes into the world - and that is all that really matters - affording us another opportunity to regard Him, ourselves and those around us much, much differently. He comes - and quiets our busy-ness and stills our meetings. He comes - and angels sing - and those who are not in meetings get to hear them. He comes - and the world, our world, His world, is forever changed.

Don't let, "So, why did I plan this meeting?" become the phrase which keeps you away from family and friends, either at Thanksgiving or at Christmas. Slow it down, savor those around you and take a lesson from the birthing of Jesus: Only those who weren't too busy with other things, like meetings and such, were granted the privilege of meeting Him there in Bethlehem, face-to-face. May we all be so blessed this year.