Wednesday, December 13, 2023
Memorial of Saint Lucy, Virgin and Martyr
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Al and Dave make Chris a box of blocks
They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they will mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Teach me, Lord, teach me Lord, to wait.
My mentor Al Schmidt and I spent the afternoon together, in November, after the harvest was completed. Our son Chris would be three years old in December, eight days before Christmas.
“Chris needs a set of blocks,” I said.
“Maybe we could make them for him,” Al said.
“Well, we could just buy them, embossed with letters and numbers, many colors, perfect, square, ready at the store.”
He looked at me like he often did. “Or we could make them ourselves, and they would be precious to both of you the rest of your lives.”
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy. And my burden is light.
“Oh, that,” I said. But he was right. I smiled.
“You go buy the hardwood, and we’ll get started.” So I did. Southern yellow pine, easy to cut, easy to sand and paint, a 4x4x4, we cut it lengthwise into four 2 inch posts, then cut each post into 24 2×2 blocks.
And just like that we had 96 blocks. We painted them yellow, blue, red and green. After the paint dried we found a black marker to put letters and numbers on the sides. Al spread out sheets of newspaper, and we shellacked three sides of each block, then once they were dry, the other three sides.
They were beautiful. They dried and were not sticky at all. We looked at our work and were satisfied. Al made a nice box from some scrap wood, and they nested in there with plenty of extra room on top. Looking at the finished product, we were happy.
Come to me all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Al’s son was grown. He had some hard times, married for awhile then not, traveling, in trouble with the law, but when he could he visited Al and Lucille at Christmas. Alone. So with no grandkids of his own, Grandpa Al took a shine to Chris. He visited us at our old farm house on the hill in the country north of Lincoln from time to time. The house was drafty and cold in the winter. We finally decided to heat it with portable kerosene stoves because the furnace cost too much to run. One day in mid-December he brought out the box of blocks.
“Should we give these to Chris for his birthday or for Christmas?” We couldn’t decide. Margaret had several things in mind for Chris’ birthday, so we made up our minds to give them to him on Christmas. Only problem was, Al wouldn’t be there on Christmas morning; he would be with Lucille and his son. He hoped.
On Christmas morning 1983 our second son Marc was eighteen months old, Chris was three, there was great excitement on that Sunday, as the sun began its swing around to our south facing windows. Temperatures outside hovered around zero and we settled down around our tree and our heaters to open Santa’s gifts.
We sang Happy Birthday to Jesus, just as we had sung to Chris eight days before. Chris was very impatient, which was not like him. He helped Marc tear off wrapping paper on his gifts. Marc seemed as fascinated by the paper as by what was inside. Chris jumped and hollered when he opened his presents. He laughed. He was so happy. Everything was wonderful.
At last he opened the box of blocks, which we held back till the end. His eyes grew wide. He looked up at Margaret and me.
“Now, Chris, this present is different from the others,” Margaret said. “Daddy made these blocks for you. He and Al made the blocks, and wrote on them, and painted them, and made them shiny.”
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the eternal God, creator of the ends of the earth.
Chris looked confused. “They came from Santa, Mommy. It’s Christmas morning. Santa brought this box of blocks.”
Chris settled on this factoid, those blocks came from Santa and that was that! He liked them a lot and he was, I’m sure, very grateful to Santa for giving them to him.
When I told Al the story on Monday, he was as surprised as I had been. He laughed. “God gets the glory. We did the work, and God gets the glory. Well, Santa gets the glory. Ha!”
Chris and Marc played with the blocks for years. They were precious. The kids AND the blocks.
 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. He pardons, he heals, he redeems and he crowns us with kindness and compassion.
(Isaiah 40, Psalm 103, Matthew 11)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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