I am sitting in a hotel in Alabama waiting for a meeting to begin. My brain cannot handle another thought about the meeting, so…
Five Things I Do Not Want For Christmas
1. Gifts for adults, from adults and by adults.
I probably do need new socks and underwear. Pricey pens and handsome ties are nice. These are all well and good, but it’s Christmas and not a trip through the SkyMall Catalog.
When I was a kid I used to give my pipe smoking father a ceramic ashtray and pipe cleaners for the big day. The ceramic ashtray is a thing of the past. Back then it was the perfect gift for my dad, even if it was kind of cheating. You see, my parents owned a series of retail art stores specializing in ceramics. My life was filled with ashtrays, large vases, 18” high German Shepherds with pink painted tongues, dirty turtles*, etc. The ashtrays were great big, curvy objects of art, not unlike the cars of the 1950’s. Each one weighed five pounds and took up an entire end table. Some even had big lighters or lamps popping out of them. They looked so groovy with the green shag carpet in the living room. This was the 70’s at my house.
Ceramic ashtrays made perfect hills and battlements for my small army men. As soon as dad was gone, I cleaned them (sometimes) and they went into their proper use in the military. No one expected me to get him anything useful or grown up: I was a kid. He was happy: I was happy.
If I had had the money for one of those nifty 23 channel CB radios, that would have been a good gift too. I remember at 19 years of age a buddy of mine and I used an old CB base unit to transmit The Clash and Elvis Costello to the truckers on Rt 14 outside Woodstock Illinois. We had two turntables and a microphone. That’s right: we were rebels with a pirate radio station. At 10 or 11, my dad would have grounded me for such foolishness. The way I looked at it, any Christmas gift had to do double duty: first my dad had to have some use for it, and then I would figure out its proper function in this world. As for the pipe cleaners, if you are under the age of thirty you probably have no idea what I am talking about. Dad and I would spend countless minutes making animals and people out of them, posing our creations on his proud, shiny, new ashtray. He could always unbend them later and use them.
My son is nine and in Cub Scouts. The day he joined was a cause for dancing in the streets. Now, in my late forties, I can re-live all the things I probably didn’t get around to when I was in Scouts. I bought an extra copy of his book and have read it cover to cover once a week for a month. We take time to play together like never before. I have a great excuse: he needs badges! He needs badges and I am just the man to make sure he does it by the book. His being in Scouts is like Christmas for me.
Next time you have the urge to get me something for Christmas, make it fun.
2. A $1000 Yak
Last week I was in the Wagon Wheel, Picture Rocks Arizona’s’ answer to Starbucks, when the gentleman to my right started swearing about his 19 year old, estranged son. It seems the young man lives in another state and is undeserving of a gift. I cannot tell you why, but I know it involves much use of the F-word to get the point across properly. Maybe the kid used his iPod and a 23 channel CB radio to broadcast Snoop Dogg and the Juno soundtrack to truckers on I10 in El Paso? My new friend has decided to give the gift that keeps on giving: a $1000 Yak. He ordered another round and explained, there is an organization he supports that takes your money, buys livestock, gives it to someone in a developing country and does it all in the name of the loved one of your choice. The virtual beasts run from a $25 chicken to the grand slam $1000 yak. I think this is a fine idea, I really do. Maybe you can donate a duck to Henry in France for me some year. After much thought, however, I do not want a $1000 yak in my name this year. What if your beneficence goes awry and it ends up at my house by mistake? My neighbors would be OK with it, I’m sure, but my daughter would want to keep it and we are out of spare animal room at the Arkabaulds.
3. Anything pertaining to Justin Bieber, Dancing With The Stars, Americas’ Got Talent, Star Search, Solid Gold, ect.
Nuff said.
4. Books on Religion.
I know I am a pastor, I love Spirit with all my heart. My reason for not wanting books on religion runs like this: imagine if you will, you know somebody: let’s say your spouse. You know this person really well. You talk to them daily. They talk to you. You have a sweet, loving relationship. Like all relationships, yours’ has its’ ups and downs. Now, someone writes a book about that person. They write it about how he/she was in high school. This book tells every bit of information the author could get their hands on about the way he/she acted then. There is even a section about the future. The writer states, based on the past actions of the subject, this is how they will act in the future… At the end of the book you know more facts, but do you know this person? Now I know my wife, she is able to express herself to me with no problem. She changes a little from day to day. She takes life on a case by case basis. In order to work with her on our life together, I have to communicate directly with her. I can learn a lot from Max Lucado or Dan Millman. They bring many things into a wonderful perspective. If they were writing books aboutmy wife, Micquette, I would probably read the first few. It is more important to me to deal directly with source. If you have a book you really want me to read, I will, but I am setting aside this year to get to know Spirit one on one. “Come, let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” Hebrews 10:24. Just God and me, not Spirit and me and a duck and a yak.
5. World Peace
It would be a great gift, but the maintenance would break me.
Happy Christmas, Hanukkah , Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, New Years…
May you know Spirit- Breaker, breaker One-Nine, you got the Holy Hauler, come back.
Mark Archambault
*ceramic turtles with genitalia on the bottom. Innocent enough from the top, but turn them over and… SURPRISE!
