Confessions of a Christmas Addict

Anyone who knows me well, knows I’ve been nuts for Christmas since I was a kid.  I get a big charge out of Christmas lights and decorations.  Imagine a long-ago August in Maryland, and watch a kid in shorts and corrective shoes sneak into an oven-hot attic to steal a peak at shiny Christmas balls.

Fifty some years later, my feet have high arches and I have nearly enough Christmas ornaments to deck the Rockefeller Center tree.  

As a kid, Christmas was the closest thing to heaven I knew.  The world glimmered.  Our house was filled with beautiful music and decorations and Mom-made sweets.  Oh, how I scarffed her almond-ball cookies covered with colored sugar.

When Christmas finally came, my heart’s desires -- discovered in the Sears Wish Book catalogue --were stacked under the tree with crinkled-ribbon bows on top.  And I was surrounded by relatives who loved me with an unconditional love.

Say what you will about the excesses and commercialism of Christmas. I won’t argue with you.  But beyond it all, the remnants of a simple childhood joy still flicker when I see the glow and sparkle of Christmas lights.  

Of course, I long ago realized the absurdity of trying to capture the real Joy of Christmas by collecting Christmas decorations.  But when Christmas came around, I’d still deck the halls inside and out as if I had drunk too much eggnog.  What the heck, I’d say.  It was something I enjoyed.  It wasn’t like I was trying to out do Martha Stewart, and I wasn’t crazy like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.

One Christmas about five years ago, however, the glittering slope got slippery.  It started out as innocent as the first snowflake of winter.  I had a peaceful vision for decorating my front yard.  I’d make a pond by laying blue lights on the ground, and then I’d gather a herd of those animated wire deer with clear mini lights.  They’d glow as they drank and frolicked by the pond.   

Alas, other deer hunters had bagged them weeks before Christmas.  I drove from store to store, returning a couple of times to each, hoping new shipments would come. But they didn’t.  My obsession consumed hours of what little spare time I had.  

I thought it was a near miracle when I finally found a pair of deer in a Lowes store.  They were expensive -- $160. But I didn’t hesitate. I piled them into a shopping cart, which wobbled as I merrily pushed them to the checkout.    

The chatty checker was a nice young woman, who somehow read me like Dickens’ Ghost of Christmas Present.  When she saw the total rung up on her register, she said “Wow, I hope you spend this much on presents.”   Her words beamed through my Christmas fog, and I wobbled with the cart to my car.

In fate's perfect way, the head of one of the deer didn’t fit, so I returned them both to Lowes. The message couldn’t have been clearer if it had been chiseled on stone and dropped in my lap.  I should give the money to people who could really use it.  

Since then, I’ve gone out Christmas Eve to some of the poorer parts of town and given away envelopes of my “decorating” money to people I meet, like a young couple washing their clothes at a Laundromat, a grandmother in a wheelchair pushed by her grandson shopping for Christmas presents in a Salvation Army Store, and an elderly gentleman shopping for one in a rundown grocery store. 

The glow from these decorations is brighter than any string of Christmas lights ever made. And it lingers warm like flannel around my heart well after the Christmas dishes have been cleared and I’ve wished my family a final “Merry Christmas” and “good night.”    

If only more people could do the same.  Think about it.  In 2005, about $8.5 billion was spent on Christmas decorations in the U.S.  Imagine how much brighter the world would be if we gave this much extra to the homeless, hungry and those in need at Christmas. 

I confess I still enjoy decorating my house for Christmas, and I bought some LED lights this year.  Hey, the Bible says you shouldn’t put your candle under a basket.  And I’m saving energy . . . .

OK, maybe I’m backsliding.  This thought came to me in the mail yesterday.  I got a $40 speeding camera ticket the day I rushed to find a bigger Christmas tree.   You can bet I’ll put all the more in the Christmas Eve envelopes.  I don’t want to miss Christmas this year. 

Sandi Rogers' Near-Death Experience

My friend Sandi Rogers had the glow and warmth of a 1,000 watt bulb.  She was lit by an awesome near-death experience. Many have seen the Light like she did.  But Sandi’s story is one of the most vivid I know for showing the Light’s power to vanquish despair.

The first part of her story, however, is so sad I can’t type it without a tear.  On April 30, 1976, after failing to commit suicide the night before with a drug overdose, she put a .38 caliber pistol to her chest – aiming for her heart. 

After years of abuse and heartache, she had sunk into despair’s subbasement.  As a young child, Sandi  experienced her parents’ wrenching divorce and saw her mother struggle alone to feed and clothe her family.  The stepfather who followed was no savior.  He sexually abused Sandi at age 13.

Her suffering only intensified like knots twisting into bigger knots.  As an adult, she had a series of bad relationships, marriages, and pregnancies and miscarriages.  By age 25 when she picked up the gun, Sandi had been raped twice by different men, married and divorced three times and hospitalized for drug overdoses six times.   She hated her existence and lost her faith.  How could the God of Love let this happen to her?

As a nurse, Sandi knew exactly where her heart was.  Determined not mess up this time, she carefully aimed and pulled the trigger.   Before the ambulance got there, she got the surprise of her eternal life.  She found herself in Heaven.  “I came into the presence of a brilliant, wonderfully warm and loving Light,” she said in her book Lessons From the Light: Insights From a Journey to the Other Side.  

Sandi then had a complete life review. She saw and felt everything she had experienced as well as saw and felt what those who came in contact with her experienced.   “As I relived each of these terribly painful events in my life, the Light, which was with me as I watched, felt all of my pain and sorrow and never judged me, but instead understood and loved me.  The love I felt from the Light was overwhelming and I never wanted to leave.” 

But she soon learned her suicide wasn’t going to be her ticket to Heaven.  She was told she had a choice.  She could stay with the Light for a while only if she later returned to the physical world and went through the same experiences that led her to pick up the pistol.  Or she could go back then and return to her life.  If she did, the Light told her she would have the family and love she craved.

Sandi chose to return, but she didn’t come back the same person.  The Love and Light she experienced stayed with her, and many who came to know her afterwards knew her for her radiant soul -- full of a passion for spreading the Love where it is not and sharing the wisdom she learned from her experience. 

The promise God made to her did come true.  Sandi met and married the love of her life – Jack Rogers – and together they had two dearly loved children. 

About thirty years after her experience, Sandi’s life was threatened by a medical condition associated with last suicide attempt.  Knowing what she knew was waiting for her on the other side, you may be surprised she fought hard to stay here. In a small way, I fought with her. Every time I could find a medical report that held promise, I sent her what she called a “Don-gram.” Despite all I sent, the advances didn’t come soon enough and Sandi died on April 28, 2000. 

So many were blessed by her life and the insights she shared. And I have to say she showed us perhaps the greatest lesson in the way she fought to stay here. After her suicide attempts, she understood how precious life here is.  For our souls, our big reward isn’t on the other side.  It is here on earth.  It’s in bringing Light to where it is dark and bringing Love to where there is fear. In other words, it is being a co-creator with God.  ”God’s paradise for us is Love,” she wrote in her book.  “We can create paradise again if we learn to love one another as ourselves.” 

Our reward is also found in the often mysterious roles we play and in the knowledge we gain from our struggles.  “From the point of view of our conscious mind, life’s not fair,” she wrote in her book.  “Hardships are necessary for the growth of our spiritual bodies. . . . Knowledge is more valuable than gold. It is something of value you can take with you to the spiritual world.” 

I’ll be the first one to say it’s difficult to read this when life’s thorns stab hard. But when they do, Sandi’s story gives us hope we will find meaning and the Light can conquer despair.    

Adventure in Prayer: The Colonoscopy

Hoping I could get out of a colonoscopy the next day, I called my gastroenterologist.  I told him I had just been wacked in the head with a speaker.  Going forward with the procedure didn’t seem like a good idea.  But he wasn’t concerned when I told him I wasn’t dizzy, didn’t need stiches and had no evidence of a concussion. 

It still didn’t seem like a good idea the next day.  As they wheeled me to the procedure room.  I was exhausted and I was sure my body was only going to feel worse afterwards. 

When I got to the room, I was assaulted by brash hip-hop music blaring from a boom box.  That did it.  Angry thoughts swirled in my head like hornets around a poked nest.   How thoughtless can you get?  Patients are stressed – even if they hadn’t been knocked in the head the day before.  I need to be soothed with classical music, Christian, new age or soft rock.  Elevator music would have been better than THIS!  How could the doctor let the tech play this crap?  And where WAS the doctor?  How much longer was I going to have to wait?

I soon realized that being steamed like this was only going to make the ordeal worse.  At this point, I started to pray.  “Lord, I don’t want to be like this,” I said.  ”I don’t want to hate this woman and her boom box . . . Please help me.  I don’t want to be like this . . .”  Over and over again, these words swirled like the angry thoughts I wanted them to replace. 

“Wait a minute,” I finally said to myself.  “God isn’t deaf. He knows what’s needed.”

There was nothing more I could do.  It was up to God.  I had placed myself in His hands.  I went quiet and then found myself listening to the lyrics of the hip-hop song.   I laughed at what I heard.   The singer was singing:  “Let’s Get It Started!  Let’s Get It Started!”

I turned my head and looked at the tech.  “Do you hear what he’s singing?” 

“Yes,” she laughed, “I was just thinking about the words . . . Let’s Get It Started.”  

Before I knew it, we were chatting and laughing about all sorts of things -- the doctor, weather, Wall Street . . . I can’t remember what all.  When the doctor finally came, I was in the peaceful place I had longed for and I had affirmed a woman I had minutes earlier scorned.

As for the results, I'm good until the next time and very thankful -- not only for my health but the beautiful lesson I learned:   If you ask, look and listen, you may hear the Music and see the Light of Love.  It is everywhere -- even in music you can’t stand and places you can’t imagine the Light will shine.

** I see a lot of you who come here are searching for a prayer as you face a colonoscopy.  So please know that, as I type each letter here, I pray God's comfort will wrap around you like a warm blanket and the hands of the doctors and nurses who will care for you will be guided by His Loving and Healing hands. And I pray you will be blessed in some way as I was. 

Adventures in Prayer: Do You Hear Me Now?

It was another cloudy day in Maryland. I was driving with weary hands on the wheel. So much was going on at work. When you can see the light in everyone, you want to be on everyone’s side. It’s a lovely desire. But trying to live it out can be difficult, particularly when -- as is often the case -- things are sorted and you’ve seen everyone’s shadow, including your own.

This day, I was worried about who was on my side and how I was going to keep my balance. So I prayed, “Lord, open the doors that need to be open and close the doors that need to be closed. I love this prayer Nancy Clark taught me because it’s a great way to ask for help when you haven’t a clue what help you really need. When you hear the rest of the story, you may think I should have stopped right there. But wanting more, I added something new to the prayer. “And Lord” I said, “I really want to hear your voice more clearly. Could you speak louder?”

I later walked into my office, all the more weary when I remembered it was the day of the big office picnic. There was lots to do to get ready. In midmorning, I rolled our portable PA system out of the closet to do a sound check. It’s a hefty thing built to bring sound to hundreds. The main unit is about four feet tall. On top of this, I locked into place the speaker unit. Its two long hinged strips of speakers in metal cases. They are not very thick or wide but each one is about two feet long. I flipped up the top strip of speakers and I turn the system on.

Not everything was working right, so I bent down to fiddle with the dials. Having trouble reading them, I pushed the unit back a bit to get a closer look. Mistake! The top speaker swung down and wacked the top of my head. Blood streamed down my face, and I ran to the office kitchen to get a paper towel. My coworkers surged just as fast to help, one called an ambulance, one put ice on my head, one started cleaning up the blood on the floor, and within five minutes, I got medical opinions from three doctors in the building. Luckily, the bleeding stopped quickly and I didn’t need to go to the hospital for stiches.

It didn’t take me long to remember my morning prayer when I asked God to speak louder. Boy, did He answer that one! Sure, life is sorted, there are shadows, and not everybody is going to Love you. But don’t get hung up on any of this. Deep down, we are all made of Love that wants to surge and help others. So when things get rocky and you want to keep your balance, keep your mind on this and let your own Love flow. You were meant to swim in it.

Now, I have to laugh at my prayer. And I can’t help but think that God has a sense of humor. In any event, I know what I’m praying next time I want to hear God’s voice or to see Love at work in others. I’m going to pray my hearing and eyesight improve!

Fear Is Not the Real Thing

My belly clamped in a knot of fear.  I was alone and in the dark, laying on a hospital bed with its aluminum bars raised.  They offered no security to a 15 year old who was set to have his diseased left kidney removed the next day. I prayed, but it felt like trying to hurl bricks to heaven.  I was in deep trouble, and my belly knew it was going to be sliced in the morning.  The only sleep I got was when they knocked me out for the operation. 

 I woke in the recovery room, feeling chilled plasma going into a vein and hearing a voice say “you’re bleeding internally.  We’re going to have to operate again.”   I asked if I was going to die.  They said no, but how could I believe them?  I fell back into the darkness.

The second operation stopped the bleeding, and I remember being wheeled out of the intensive care unit.  I was relieved to see my Dad, who had been pacing by the door. 

I recovered and eventually went back to school but with a belly still clinched like a fist. This brush with death led me to a church group, where I desperately wanted to feel God’s Love and know he is real.  I thought I felt it one day, but later wondered if my fevered wanting hadn’t created the effect.  I muddled along -- the knot everpresent -- for 20 some years until I was slammed harder by the death of my best friend as we played tennis.  This time, I found comfort in the stories of those who had near-death experiences.  Every time they talked about being embraced by a great, loving light my eyes welled with tears.  God’s Love and Life after death seemed so real to them. 

Expecting to just bask in the stories, I went to Huston in 2006 for the annual meeting of  the International Association of Near-Death Studies.  But I was in for much more.  After one of the talks, a guy got up and struggled -- physically and emotionally -- to ask a question.  It seemed he was overwhelmed by a recent near-death experience. 

I instinctively started to pray for him.  The harder he struggled, the harder I prayed until something amazing happened.  The old knot in my belly broke for a moment, and a giant wave rolled out of  my belly.  The most wonderful feeling rose through my chest and sailed out the top of my head.  Wow!  As my head tingled, I suddenly realized my problem was not that my belly was filled with fear. There was a tremendous amount of Love there  waiting to be freed. The thought still makes me dizzy.  A little while later, I also realized I had been taught another big lesson:  If you want to feel the Love of God, get busy and Love somebody else.