From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
It was her favorite Christmas song. In the room that eventually became known as "the study," my grandmother removed the vinyl album from it's old, faded cover and placed it gently on the "Hi Fi" record player. She flicked a switch of some sort and the album dropped into place as a mechanical arm swung into motion, placing the needle on the outside edge of the album. We heard the static from the speaker as the needle found the little groove in the vinyl that would guide it to the first song. Then, with the deep bass sounds of men singing "Prrummm, …Prrummm…," my great grandmother's expression became one of pure rapture. The Little Drummer Boy was her favorite song, and she made sure we aware of this fact every single year. I wasn't sure why, though.
"I'm just an old country girl," she once told my sister and I. We were youngsters, and full of questions. "Maw Maw," we asked, "what is your middle name?" She assured us that it wasn't one that she herself would have selected, and to our surprise, she didn't want to actually tell us what it was. So naturally we pressed further and refused to let up. Finally, she looked around as if to make sure no one else was listening (even though there was no one else in the house), and then she slowly leaned forward, her nose wrinkling in mephitic disgust as she whispered the name with such comic repugnance that it reduced all three of us to giggles. We tried to pronounce it back to her, but she made us take an oath of secrecy, ..which oath I shan't break here. But trust me,…it was the sort of name that would put a curl in your teeth if you tried to pronounce it. "Just an old country girl," she said. That old country girl was an amazing woman.
Thirty-five years later, on Christmas Eve, I'm at a truck stop listening to an application on my smart phone that plays Classical and Classic Christmas music over the truck's speakers. Inside, where a welcomed hot meal is served, waitresses are wishing tired drivers a Merry Christmas. Some of the people seem buoyed by the holiday spirit, while a very few give the impression that it's just another night. In the parking lot, for the second year in a row, I see that a driver has strung up colored lights around his windshield for the night, perhaps in the hope that Santa will bring him a new CB or, since he isn't home for Christmas, a new dispatcher. Then, over the speakers, my great grandmother's song begins playing, and all the decades immediately fall away. Does music do that for you too? With the first notes of the song I see her, perfectly poised, her comfortable shoes on, her cane beside the chair, her eyes sparkling happily.
Maybe it was the story that touched her. We have a poor youngster who, having heard of the newborn King to whom is owed, "Our finest gifts…," elects to bring the only thing he has. A drum. Then, approaching the infant Savior who lay in a simple feeding trough, the boy observes, "I am a poor boy too." While others bring gold and silver, the song says the child offers everything he has, and plays his drum. His reward? "Then, He smiled at me. … Me and my drum." Perhaps the story touched an understanding feeling in that "old country girl." I was too young to understand it back then, but time lends focus and perspective, something my great grandmother had in abundance.
Tonight, the lights are twinkling, stockings are hung, the presents are wrapped and a peaceful calm has descended. In some homes, families gather to read the Christmas Story. Churches offer special services as the faithful give thanks for God's gift of peace and salvation, even as they prepare to offer gifts to one another. The greatest gifts, of course, are priceless. The only thing more beautiful than the joy on a child's face on Christmas morning is the love in a parent's eyes. But for tonight, thoughts drift elsewhere. My great grandmother had her favorite song, and I have mine:
Silent night, holy night;
Son of God, love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face;
With the dawn of redeeming grace.
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.
The happiness beaming from the children, the loving embrace of family and friends, the warm smiles of generations gathered together all illuminate the soul with just a glimmer of a light that reaches to us across two thousand years. It's the light of perfect love which shone over Bethlehem, toward which so many of us travel with steps faltering and unsure, yet with hearts hungering after God's infinite grace.
"Shall I play for you?" asked the little drummer boy. It's the question I ask each time I sit down to this keyboard, offering my own meager gifts, playing my drum for you certainly, but also for my Redeemer, and in the service of Him and the freedom He gives to us all. And just maybe, if I'm lucky, in heaven there's an "old country girl," with a knowing smile about now. Such is my prayer on this night. From my truck to your homes, I wish you a very Merry Christmas, my friends. A very Merry Christmas indeed.
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Comments :
Jun '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Thank you, Dave, and Christmas blessings to you and your family!
Dec '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Beautiful, as always. Thank you, Dave. Merry Christmas
Dec '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Smooth sleighing, Mr. Carter.
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
I'll be playing "Jingle Wheels."
Jun '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas. Rejoice in God's promises.
Edited on Dec 24, 2011 at 5:26pmJun '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas, Dave!
Merry Christmas to all the other Ricocheteers as well.
Mar '11
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas Dave and a Happy New Year,
Perhaps Santa can work in a new rig for you with wireless to that smart phone ;)
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
GLDIII: Merry Christmas Dave and a Happy New Year,
Perhaps Santa can work in a new rig for you with wireless to that smart phone ;) · Dec 24 at 5:41pm
From your lips to Santa's ears.
Dec '11
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
First and foremost, Dave, have a safe New Year.
And, um.. not to place any additional pressure upon you, but I'm certainly looking forward to more of those stirring football posts in 2012!
:-) :-) :-)
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
EThompson: First and foremost, Dave, have a safe New Year.
And, um.. not to place any additional pressure upon you, but I'm certainly looking forward to more of those stirring football posts in 2012!
:-) :-) :-) · Dec 24 at 6:23pm
All in good time...
May '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Beautiful, Dave!
May '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Seen outside Orrville, Ohio while picking up a load of Smuckers!
Merry Christmas, David!
From the folks in Ohio!
Edited on Dec 24, 2011 at 6:49pmRe: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
EJHill: Seen outside Orrville, Ohio while picking up a load of Smuckers!
Merry Christmas, David!
From the folks in Ohio! · Dec 24 at 6:49pm
Edited on Dec 24 at 06:49 pm
Can we get that thing posted on my trailer? That's marvelous!
Oct '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Dave... you help us keep our focus on what matters.
Christmas blessings and God be with you.
Nov '11
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Little Drummer Boy is one of my favorites and it reminds me of my Mom. Merry Christmas to you and be safe.
Jun '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas to Dave, Alfonse, and all of my Ricochet friends.
My grandkids just beat a pinata to death. Time for dreams of sugar plums.
Jun '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas my friend. We miss you.
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Give the family a hug for me, Bob. I hope I can get through there soon for a visit. We need some shooting range time too!
Sep '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Dave,
Rob's quotation from Dickens seems to fit your situation almost perfectly:
They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it.
Merry Christmas to you, the helmsman at the wheel. May God guide you and keep you safe.
Jul '10
Re: From My Truck to Your Home; Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas, Dave! Safe travels.