carbonated joy

I’ve heard slow songs about various shades of Christmas…
“I’m dreaming of a White Christmas.”
“I’ll have a Blue Christmas without you.”
I’ve seen the shades of the seasons.
I’ve seen white, and I’ve felt blue.
But that’s not where the palette ends…
Christmas is full of color…
from pretty green wrapping paper to shiny red lights, the season is meant to be a sight to behold.
Christmas is all about color.
I’ve experienced many Yuletide colors.
I’ve had Christmases that were more red than green, because we had more love than money. Those were deeply meaningful times that I wouldn’t take any amount of cash for.
I’ve experienced Christmases made gold by the company I keep. My bride brings brightness to the holidays we’ve shared.
Over two decades ago, I’m man enough to say I had a pink Christmas because of a sweet little December baby that changed my focus forever.
I’ve seen bright yellow Christmases, full of vibrant happiness and creativity.
I’ve tasted Christmas that was the same savory shade as green bean casserole, as I gathered around a table to savor the gift of family and friends.
I’ve seen seasons that were sobering shades of gray. Holidays when I was forced to navigate new normals because, suddenly, there was an empty seat at the table.
I’ve never dreamed of a beige Christmas, but the thought of a purple and orange holiday makes my heart grow three sizes.
I’ve had a camouflage Christmas where I got lost in the trappings of the season. Busyness blinded me to the true colors.
And FINALLY, I’ve had plaid Christmases when all the colors intersected into a beautiful pattern.
So many colors…
And, Christmas is all about color.
On the very first Christmas, light came into our world…
The creator of uncontainable color contained in a little brown baby.
A light meant to open our darkened eyes to color.
A light that drives out the shadows and finally exposes beauty in all its shades.
“The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out.” (from John 1 MSG)
Light came so that we could discover the true essence of color. Hues finally came alive and beauty was unveiled.
If you look, you can see it…
The true beauty of Christmas…
The true beauty of each other…
Red, yellow, black, brown, and white…
We are preciousness finally in clear sight.
The light reveals the true colors.
And, Christmas is all about color.
Not just blue, not only white…
Christmas is meant to be like a candy dish full of the old fashioned hard candy from your grandma’s house. Stocked full of every imaginable color of sweet joy, wonder and hope.

So, my friend I bid you…
May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be…
multicolored!

“…we stand surrounded by all those who have gone before, an enormous cloud of witnesses…” (Heb. 12:1)
“…we have seen HIM, enveloped in undeniable splendor…” (John 1:14)

Every year about this time, Ben walks over and looks over the edge of heaven, he has a great view of the beautiful broken planet and that is where he sees something so unfamiliarly familiar. He sees the nativity sets everywhere, in yards and lots, on mantles and under trees, on bedazzled sweatshirts and bright screen savers, and it takes him back. His mind is flooded with memories of a long ago moment that is frozen in time, a messy moment that ignited a movement.
He chuckles because of the huge variety of nativities. Some are quite serious, some are silly, and some are sarcastic. The original event was an explosion of uncontrollable joy, so he doesn’t have a problem with the silliness.
He knows the real story, he was there.
There are shiny glass and plastic nativities, some are toy sets for children and a few have live animals. There are completely random nativities made of Coke cans and stuffed animals. The thing that strikes him is that most of them are so clean and chaos free, very sanitized, safe and family friendly, void of the Holy harshness of that faraway night.

He ponders…

“I remember it all…
It started in a field, we were protecting our flock from predators, that’s what shepherds do. It was thankless work, but it was the family business. It was a night like every other…UNTIL it wasn’t.
We had the sheep in for the night, the darkness was thick and the cold chilled our tired bones. We stood around a small crackling camp fire, it gave off a little light and heat, but the night was quickly closing in on us. We were the kind of relentless tired that comes with working hard in the cold. Suddenly, the stillness of the night was broken when Manny farted, and of course, because we were a group of men, that was always hilarious. We laughed and snorted and giggled. Then our laughter and the darkness were SUDDENLY interrupted by an unworldly pure light.
ILLUMINATION!!
Followed closely by…
REALIZATION!!
That…we…were…not…alone!
There was the largest man that I had ever seen,
He had dark bronze skin that, I swear literally shone. He just appeared out of the nothingness.
I denied this for years, but he scared the crap out of me…literally.
He then said in a booming voice, “Don’t be afraid!”…Ummm, too late man!
Then he told us that a baby had been born who was destined to break our bonds…a baby!!
The Messiah had come! AND, he was in a manger!?!
That seemed like pretty big news.
That seemed like it could be the best news ever.
I was pretty sure that the man had the wrong address, surely he was looking for the palace or temple. Was this some directionally challenged heavenly messenger?
We were shepherds, we were outcasts.
We were burly, homeless, uncultured misfits, a band of brothers who hadn’t bathed in weeks. We were basically traveling carnival freaks.
We were the least likely to get invited to ANYTHING!!
Now, we were the FIRST to get invited to the BIGGEST thing ever!
My mind was racing, my heart was pounding.
I wanted to laugh and cry and shout and swear all at once, instead I just stood staring at the visitor with a stupid look on my face.
SUDDENLY, the man was joined by an entire army of mysterious messengers. This was getting CRAZY!! Then it got weirder, they started to…umm…sing! Oh yes, it’s true, they passionately broke forth into song. There was a sense of wonder and relief to their song. They acted like kids who had asked a thousand times “are we there yet?” FINALLY arriving at their destination. They acted like this was a song that they had waited millennia to sing. There was a power in the music that drove me to my knees. Their song was a force of nature.
They sang…

Glory to God in the highest
and on earth peace, goodwill to all people.

As quickly as they had appeared, the choir dismissed themselves and returned to the realms hidden behind the stars, but the song stayed, it lingered, it didn’t seem to stop.
We awkwardly stood there trying to process something that just couldn’t be processed.
Nothing like this had ever happened. The bleating of our sheep broke the awkwardness.
We looked at each other, What were we waiting for?
We ran into town, the streets were alive with thousands of tourists in town for the census. we fought through the bustling crowd, nobody was happy to see us, we didn’t care. We weren’t there to see them. We were pushed and called names, it didn’t slow us down. There were so many people!! They were all unsuspecting of the sacred moment that was unfolding in their midst.
I’m always amazed how the nativity sets make the scene appear so serene. The story has been sung to make you think that it was a silent night, it was hardly silent or serene. It was chaotic…beautiful, noisy, messy chaos. There were angry crowd noises and divinely designed disorder as we entered the stable.
We trampled in on the dirty straw, past the small untamed group of animals, and were confronted by the unmistakable stench of a barn combined with the smell of sweat and afterbirth.
There it was, the first time I ever witnessed the nativity scene, father, mother and child. At first they looked more like desperate and dirty refugees than redeemers.
There was the young mother, she looked to be probably about thirteen, her face carried a look of exhaustion, but yet there was peace in her eyes with a tinge of sorrow. She was looking around with curiosity, she seemed to just be taking everything in. She didn’t act surprised or scared to see us. She smiled.
The baby was squirming and crying at the top of his lungs. For a long awaited messiah, he looked a lot like every other new born Jewish baby. Then the new born King got very red in the face. As the father of four, I recognized what was happening. We awkwardly stood at a distance watching God poop for the first time, I couldn’t help but think that at least I wasn’t the only one that night.
This was the hope of mankind in swaddling clothes! This was touchable wonder!!
I saw the father, I felt an instant connection with him. He was older than the mother and I could tell by the way that he carried himself that he was a working man. There was a humility and honor about him that was immediately apparent. He motioned for us to come closer with his calloused hand, he wiped a tear from his dirty face and he said in a coarse voice, “His name is Jesus”. Something about hearing the name electrified my insides. We worshiped the baby. We were the outsiders who had suddenly been invited inside, we breathlessly worshipped the child, because that is what you do when you are suddenly invited inside. We were shepherds, we had nothing to offer the King, but our love. Over the years, I realized THAT was all he wanted.
You know, It always makes me laugh that in all of the nativity sets, we are standing next to the stargazers, they hold their expensive gifts, while we hold our breath.
But, the truth is we never met those guys. They didn’t show up while we were there.
After a while, we noticed that the young mother was tired and the baby King was hungry. We quietly bowed our heads and backed out of the small stable.
We begin our journey home, we were the same band of brothers, yet we had a new significance. We had found ourselves in a new story. The story that I still get to look over the edge and see myself in.
As we walked, the buzz of the barn wore off and we realized that we had left the flock alone. It was irresponsible, but do you blame us? I mean, c’mon, Nobody wanted to stay with the sheep when there was a savior to be seen.
So, on the way back, we feared the worst.
Had the sheep ran away, had the wolves come?
But, it turns out that the messenger’s command to “fear not” didn’t have an expiration. It seems like the Most High had taken care of even the smallest details.
We got back to camp to find everything fine.
It was almost like there had been a supernatural fence around the sheep, keeping them in and the wolves out. Nobody ever tells that part of the story. But, I was there.
And, now I am here.
I stand here on the edge of heaven,
I look over and I see the celebrations and the controversies. Things get distorted. But, I know the truth. I was there.
I was a bit player, but I am a native of the nativity.
We returned to our pasture different
We went back to our work. We returned to the same messy, misunderstood life as before, but we were forever different. We had been marked by pure glory. We were armed with a new hope, we were suddenly living a better story.
I remember it all…”

Ben scratched his beard and smiled as he caught a glimpse of a tiny ceramic nativity set that portrayed the shepherds as cherub faced children. He muttered “Hardly!!”
He took a deep, contented breath.
He started to hum a familiar medley, then the words and music began to mix and he couldn’t help but sing along to the song that has never ceased resounding and rebounding through time and space…

Glory to God in the highest
and on earth peace, goodwill to all people

My Boat of Many Colors

A little pirate poetry (with profuse apologies to Dolly Parton).

AVAST! Back through the winsome years
I go wanderin’ once again
To when I was the youngest of buccaneers
I wanted to set sail for freedom, fortune and friends
I wanted to be a swashbuckler, savvy?
But ARGHH! I didn’t have the booty or any dividends
Times were as hard as my week old dinner biscuit
I felt scurvy in my soul and landlocked as can be
It was enough to make this young pirate pessimistic

But a kind old Captain saw my desperate situation
He adjusted his eyepatch and recognized my need
The old pirate set about to help me find my station
He hobbled down to the scary old ship graveyard
And started collecting boat pieces and scraps
So many different colored scraps, used and scarred

The cap’n put the pieces together
Buildin’ every piece with untamed pride
It was sturdy to withstand weather
Not pretty, but ‘twas seaworthy
The boat the Captain made for me.

My boat of many colors
That the captain made for me
I didn’t have a big treasure
But, alas the sea was wild and free
So I sailed it so very proudly
Although it was a small ship
I was piratical as I could be
In my boat of many colors
The Captain made for me

So with patches on my crows nest
And holes in both my sails
In my boat of many colors
I hurried off to sea
Just to find the other seadogs laughing
And making fun of me
And my boat of many colors
The Captain made for me

And oh I couldn’t understand it
For I felt I had reached a high rank
And I told them of the adventure
The Captain put into every plank
But they didn’t understand it
And I tried to make them see
That one is only land locked
Only if they choose to be
Now I know we had no booty
But I was piratical as I could be
In my boat of many colors
The Captain made for me
Made just for me

Bob was an angry inflatable Snowman.

You really couldn’t tell that he was angry by looking at him because he always had the same silly expression on his face. The maker had put a permanent smile on his round rubber face.

He wasn’t always angry.
Just a few weeks ago, He had been taken off the shelf at the big busy store. He was bought and taken home in a minivan.
He was so hopeful.
He was ready to get outside the box and spread Christmas cheer. It’s what he was created for!! He was ready to wave his latex limb arms at children and shake his Snowman belly if the wind picked up. His future was so bright and full of promise.
But now, weeks later he was angry and a little cynical.

He wasn’t angry because he was only 4 feet tall (and much of that height was his super nifty top hat). Bob realized that inflatables come in all different sizes and shapes and colors. That is what made humans want to drive around and see them. If every inflatable was a 6 foot tall reindeer, it would be a very short drive.

He was not angry because he was a snowman in Swampflower, South Carolina, a place where it never snowed. This caused some people to accuse him of being fake. The oddly disproportionate 12 foot tall Santa Claus across the street gave him judgmental looks with his crazy eyes. That guy was a real jerk, that irritated him. But, it wasn’t the reason he was mad.

He was angry because every SINGLE night about 11:15 pm, the homeowner would step outside in his basketball shorts and crocs. He would bend down and, with a grunt, unplug the green extension cord that gave Bob life.
This left Bob quite deflated…
Literally.
Within seconds he would hit the dirt. He would lay there in the grass until the next night when the sun was setting. That’s when one of the homeowners would plug him back him.
So he was only inflated a few hours each night.
The rest of time he lay in the front yard listless and lifeless. He never fully experienced a morning or afternoon. He heard the birds singing, but never saw them fly. He heard the school bus stop, but never saw the kids. He spent his days with his face down on the ground, all twisted and turned inward. It was a miserable existence for Bob. He wasn’t content being a PART-TIME purveyor of peace and goodwill, he was better than that.
It was shameful.

It really just didn’t seem fair, the Grinch down the street was left plugged in ALL the time. He was never forced to shrink 3 sizes. He just stood there with his menacing grin never missing out on ANYTHING.

Then one fateful January morning he got unplugged, folded up and put into his original box. He was put on a shelf in the garage where he wouldn’t feel the air for about 11 months. It was embarrassing.

He had plenty of time in his cramped cardboard home to reflect on life, liberty and inflatability.

He pondered…
Time outside the box is limited, you have to make the most of it. He should have spent less time feeling sorry for himself, and more time just trying to make people happy.
He learned that true life only comes when you are plugged into an outside power source.
When you live disconnected you crash hard.

Five, four, three, two, one…
Misfits of the world today,
Are we looking for a better way?
We are a part of the Misfit Nation.
Misfits of the world unite,
Strength in our weirdness, we can get it right.
One time.
We are a part of the Misfit Nation.
The Misfit Nation defies geography, it is a multicolored Commonwealth realm of Imagine Nation. We are all native born citizens. The only passport needed is peculiarity.
We are a part of the Misfit Nation.
We are all misfits.
Some of us are misfits because we were born that way, there is something we were genetically gifted with that makes us different. We could perceive it as a limitation, but, it is meant to be a light.
Some of us are misfits because we have a dream or belief or passion that just won’t let us blend in. We choose to misfit.
Some of us are misfits because our personality causes us to be a constant square peg in a round hole world.
Some of us are a big beautiful misfit mashup.
Regardless of where we find ourselves, the point is clear… We are all misfits.

We are part of the Misfit Nation.

Some misfitness is harder to hide. But, the simple truth is no matter how hard we try to fit in, we are all part of the misfit nation. There is something that makes you different from everyone else who has ever lived.
That is art not accident.
We are all misfits.
None of us fit in everywhere, it is our differences that make us same. Our uncommon creates common ground.
We try so hard to just fit in.
We try to be normal.
We conform.
We don’t realize that misfits aren’t the same thing as mistakes.
The liberating truth is that misfit is just another word for interesting.
Each of us have been given an incredibly beautiful gift…uniqueness.
We were woven to be wonderfully weird.
We are not a bunch of colorless robots who can only conform, THAT would be BORING!
You weren’t born to be boring!
You weren’t born to fit in, you were designed to stand out.
We are all misfits.
We are supposed to be.
You are misfit, not mistake.
You are art, not accident.
Why in the world would you want to fit in?!
Fly your misfit flag!!
Sing your song and shine a light in the dark.

We are a part of the Misfit Nation.

As I write this I’m sitting in a plastic wicker couch with my lovely bride. We are on the deck of a big boat looking at the Atlantic Ocean. We are being rocked by the frothy November tide. We are on our 5th or 6th cruise. It is simply the absolute best way to vacate in the history of vacations. We get to live out wild Caribbean dreams.
Before I ever even took a cruise I considered myself an expert. After all, I grew up watching the Love Boat. I expected to hang with Gopher and have dinner with Captain Stubing and swap stories with Isaac the bartender. I was looking forward to meeting Charo. But real life washed away my fun ship expectations like a sandcastle.
From the first time I got on board and heard “theez eez your captain speeeking…” my life was never the same.
Each ship has a cruise director who serves as a purveyor of pure enthusiasm. They fling fun around like glitter. We have had some really cool cruise directors who apparently survive on very little sleep.
It took me a while to get used to the boat toilets. When you flush them it sounds like a combination between a car wreck and a dying steroid crazed ox.
It didn’t take me anytime at all to get used to the fact that I can get soft serve ice cream every 14 minutes. In fact I think that is a maritime law, ice cream and pizza must be consumed frequently. I happily comply.
Speaking of food, there is this wonderful invention called the chocolate melting cake. It is an unbelievably delicious little chunk of dark chocolate decadence. It is instantly addictive, I am going to need a support group next week to help me get through withdrawal.
There is a virtual cornucopia of entertainment. You can enjoy comedy clubs and casinos, bingo and karaoke (FYI, my go to karaoke song is “Play that Funky Music White Boy”), I’ve attended art shows and thriller dance classes. And then you’ve got the big glitzy shows. We’ve seen the exact same shows on every cruise that we’ve been on, and so I know all the words and dance steps, but I wouldn’t fit into any of the glittery costumes. The shows feature happy attractive, young artists singing and dancing to Motown songs on a big shiny set. It’s fun and I get to sing along.
I have to confess, I fear the elegant night when you are legally required to dress up for dinner, once again maritime laws kick in. This is only because of my general lack of elegance. I have a casual body and I’m allergic to elegant. But I conform because I like to eat.
It’s serious fun to get back to your room and discover a towel animal on your bed. It’s almost magical how ordinary beach towels can become super cute critters like puppies, dolphins or pterodactyls. This inspired me to make towel animals at home, but I only mastered the towel snake…not super impressive.
We have taken some cool excursions, snorkeling (where I bobbed around like an extremely uncoordinated sea lion), tours of beautiful Bahamian locations, and we spent a day at a private island named Half Moon Cay. (Half Moon is also the name of a semi-reputable plumbing company in our home town).
You have constant access to fancy drinks with paper umbrellas and rhyming names…Bahama Mama, Mai Tai. Makes me wonder…Did Dr Seuss name these drinks? “Would you drink this fruity punch on the deck? Cause we will most gladly put it on your check!”
We have taken the time to get to know some of our restaurant servers and cabin stewards. These are INCREDIBLY hard working individuals who have some amazing stories. They sacrifice and serve and still they smile. They have families back home who they haven’t seen in a while and they labor to provide a life for their loved ones.
We ALSO have met some REALLY cool humans on cruise ships (and one seagull that was a real jerk). We have gotten to know some really good people who just like to have a good time and who, through the social magic of social media, have become good friends long after the ship docked.
We have encountered a few haters, the complainers. They gripe because the bed is too hard or soft, or the pizza is too hot or cold, or it’s raining or the sun is in their eyes. It always puzzles me that there can be unhappy people on a cruise ship. It reminds me of Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka. Nothing is good enough and they always want more. What a shame there aren’t Oompah Loompahs on board to separate the good eggs from the bad…sorry, I digress.

Then, sadly the last day rolls around and it’s time for debarkation, which sounds like something you do to a dog that you don’t like. We pack up the dirty clothes, souvenirs and memories and we have to get our feet back on dry land.

But, not before one last soft serve ice cream,
And I’m putting a paper umbrella in it.