Ruth went to her mail box on Christmas Eve, and there was only one letter. She picked it up and looked at it before opening, but then she looked at the envelope again. There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address. She read the letter:
Dear Ruth:
I’m going to be in your neighborhood this Christmas and I’d like to stop by for a visit.
Love Always,
Jesus
Ruth’s hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table. “Why would the Lord want to visit me? I’m nobody special. I don’t have anything to offer.” With that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets.
“Oh my goodness, I really don’t have anything to offer. It’s already Christmas Eve and the stores will be closing. I’ll have to run down out and buy something for dinner right away.” She reached for her purse and counted out its contents. Five dollars and forty cents.
“Well, I can get some bread and cold cuts, at least.” She threw on her coat and hurried out the door. A loaf of French bread, a half-pound of sliced turkey, and a carton of milk…leaving Ruth with grand total of twelve cents to last her until next week. Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her meager offerings of a Christmas dinner tucked under her arm.
“Hey lady, can you help us, lady?” Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans; she hadn’t even noticed two figures huddled in the alleyway. A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags.
“Look lady, I ain’t got a job, ya know, and my wife and I have been living here on the street, and, well, now it’s getting cold and we’re getting kinda hungry and, well, it’s Christmas Eve, if you could help us, lady, we’d really appreciate it.”
Ruth looked at them both. They were dirty, they smelled bad and, frankly, she was certain that they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to.
“Sir, I’d like to help you, but I’m a poor woman myself. All I have is a few cold cuts and some bread, and I’m having an important guest for Christmas and I was planning on serving that to Him.”
“Yeah, well, okay lady, I understand. Thanks anyway”. The man put his arm around the woman’s shoulders, turned and headed back into the alley as a gentle snow began to fall. As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar twinge in her heart.
“Sir, wait!” The couple stopped and turned as she ran down the alley after them. Look, why don’t you take this food. I’ll figure out something else to serve my guest.” She handed the man her grocery bag.
“Thank you lady, thank you very much!” “Yes, thank you!”
Ruth could see now that the woman was shivering.
“You know, I’ve got another coat at home. Here, why don’t you take this one?” Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman’s shoulders. Then smiling, she turned and walked back to the street …. without her coat and with nothing to serve her guest.
“Thank you lady! Thank you very much! …. and Merry Christmas!”
Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too. The Lord was coming to visit and she didn’t have anything to offer Him. She fumbled through her purse for the door key. But as she did, she noticed another envelope in her mailbox. “That’s odd. The mailman doesn’t usually deliver on Christmas Eve.” She took the envelope out of the box and opened it.
Dear Ruth:
It was so good to see you again. Thank you for the lovely Christmas dinner. And thank you, too, for the beautiful coat.
Love Always,
Jesus
The air was still cold, and the snow was falling even harder, but even without her coat, Ruth no longer noticed.
- Author Unknown
Jesus doesn’t normally write us Christmas letters and drop it in our mailboxes at home or over the web. I have never heard of such divine notice sent, signed and delivered from the heavens on Christmas Eve or any time of the year at that. This Christmas story might have been told over and over again that you can tell the exact ending just by reading the opening lines. Nevertheless, as cliché as this letter | story may sound, it makes fair sense to stop for a moment and feel the cold air in the morning, listen to the season tunes played over the radio, watch the Christmas lights glow in the dark and share the spirit of the season with the rest of the world.
The morning TV news does a daily countdown until the Christmas. I remembered they begun the count as early as October of this year. As I watched them count the remaining days to Christmas everyday, I got lost in transition as to how many more days it is and while I am tangled in the daily operations, urgent processes and planning requirements at the office, I had completely forgotten that Christmas is indeed coming. In one of my short breaks last week and while checking my mails, it suddenly occurred to me that it is Christmas time once again so I sent few friends greetings so as not to forget. Better early than forgotten I said to myself.
I would not want to wish to receive a letter from Jesus this Christmas (literally or figuratively) for three (3) simple reasons. First, I don’t think I am ready to understand the words written and I may fall short decoding the message hidden between the lines. My Chinese wife thinks I’m dumb. Truth is, I am and I never will get tired of learning to fill-up my half-full left brain that stores my deficient logical, rational, analytical and objective thinking. Once-in-a-while I get to pretend I’m smart when she’s not around but then everything goes back to the normal dumb me back home.
Second, since I might fail the letter comprehension test and misinterpret the value of the message, I may be forever lost in my subconscious trying to figure out the difference between regret and taking chances. My Boss, Resty O. Bundoc told me stories sometime ago of why and how things, practices, cultures and emotions die a natural death. According to him, it is not the end that we should worry about, if not written in the stars (or destiny to some) it will soon come. What we should pay most attention on are the details of today without losing track of the big picture that’s about to happen tomorrow. The most important, lasting and redeeming lesson in situations of dying a natural death is facing the truth of today and appreciating (not suffering) the consequence of tomorrow.
Third, I don’t think I deserve such celestial memo right now as naughty kids don’t get toys from Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. “Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi.” It means “Bless me, father, for I have sinned” in Latin. I knew I did countless time in the past until today and for personal penance (if it’s permitted for absolution in the spirit of Christmas) I would chose to sing a Christmas song over recital of repetitive prayers. Not that it’s easier to do but it’s something not given in the past by any priest yet by the virtues covering the Sacrament of Penance. It may not be in the book but it makes sense, a heavenly prudence in the season of faith, hope and charity.
“You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town. He's making a list, and checking it twice; gonna find out who's naughty and nice. Santa Claus is coming to town. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake! Oh, you better watch out! You better not cry. Better not pout, I'm telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.” Now done with the my distinctive penance, I wish to work hard to make this Christmas the most wonderful season for my family (kids and Chinese wife included), my friends, others that I don’t claim to be “mine”, the countless and the nameless people that I don’t know but in one-one-way or the other have been related to me by chance or intervention.
So help me Jesus.
-Rustico
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