Nothing But A Child

We are nearing the end of our personal annual marathon to watch favorite Christmas movies. I can’t remember a year when we didn’t watch three different versions of A Christmas Carol. (My favorite is the Muppets’ version.) The Polar Express, The Grinch, The Miracle on 34^th Street, and a dozen or more other favorites fill those glorious evenings when we come together in the comfort of family love. We know almost every line, but still when Alastair Sim says, “I must stand on my head!” I will smile and reach to touch Jeanette’s hand. Our latest movie night included The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey. I am familiar with this story because I have the enormous advantage of being married to a gifted teacher of little children who introduced me to this book when our kids were very young. This lovely, moving story reveals that sometimes the honesty and innocence of a child can inspire us to be better people. In his grief Jonathan Toomey comes to see his life as “pish posh” and it is only with the help of young Thomas that he once again finds purpose in his life. It isn’t easy nor does it happen quickly, but Jonathan comes to find hope in the world when a little boy leads the way. Almost all of the Christmas stories we watch – or tell, for that matter – remind us that the most important part of a satisfying life has to do with the way we treat other people. And maybe that’s why the Christmas story is so enduring. We want our children to have faith in the goodness of other people and treat them with respect and dignity. We want them to see and hear stories about kindness and generosity in a world that can sometimes be frightening. And we need them to remind us why any of this stuff matters. At the end of the movie version of The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, Steve Earle sings, “Nothing but a child could wash away those miles, so once again we all can be children for a while.” If we can remember what it was like to see the world through innocent and inquisitive eyes, we will all make the world a better place.

Merry Christmas.

A poem:

For Maia

A little girl is singing for the faithful to come ye
Joyful and triumphant, a song she loves,
And also the partridge in a pear tree
And the golden rings and the turtle doves.
In the dark streets, red lights and green and blue
Where the faithful live, some joyful, some
troubled,
Enduring the cold and also the flu,
Taking the garbage out and keeping the
sidewalk shoveled.
Not much triumph going on here—and yet
There is much we do not understand.
And my hopes and fears are met
In this small singer holding onto my hand.
       Onward we go, faithfully, into the dark
       And are there angels hovering overhead?
Hark.              

                                    -----Gary Johnson