|
Friends United Meeting |
 |
December 1998
Cleo's Angels
By Phil Gulley
For the past three years, I've worked three jobs-pastoring, writing and speaking. This was not my intention. The writing and speaking snuck up on me when I wasn't looking. This was two jobs too many, especially for a simple Quaker, and I determined to simplify my life. I had been a pastor for fourteen years and thought I'd let writing and speaking have a turn. So my wife and sons and I moved back to my hometown of Danville, Indiana. My parents still live here and the prospect of having built-in babysitters was appealing.
We live in a red house, the only red house in Danville, to the best of our knowledge. People ask us, "Where do you live?" We tell them the red house north of town. They always know which house we mean. They ask if we're going to paint it. We look them right in the eye and tell them we're keeping it red.
Red is a fine color for a house. It adds a certain lively spirit and you can always buy red house paint at a discount. Of course, it's not called "red" at the paint store. I was nosing around in the basement and came across a half-empty paint can. "Cranberry" the label read. I know for certain it's the only "cranberry" house in town.
The door is blue. My wife, Joan, wants to paint it green. Red house, green door. Christmas colors. Come the holidays, we'll be ready.
Christmas in Danville. The first week of December finds Cleo Walker from the street department stringing lights around the square. A wreath or two on the courthouse doors. Plywood angels on the telephone poles. Nothing fancy. Meat and potatoes decorating.
But down at Ellis Park, change is underway. We used to close the park for the winter so the kids could sled down the parking lot hill, cross the street, and coast onto the football field without being clobbered by a car. Now the gates are open year 'round and it's every sledder for himself.
When cold weather hits, the basketball courts are transformed into a skating rink. Brad Andrews, the park superintendent, saw an advertisement for portable ice rinks that sit atop basketball courts. The town bought one, Brad strung lights from backboard to backboard and we turn figure-eights beneath them. A wintry Shangri La.
We were just adapting to these changes, when the Chamber of Commerce waded in with a one million Christmas light extravaganza. They hired a company to fill the park with holiday scenes portrayed in lights-Santa and his reindeer, the North Pole workshop, Rudolph kicking a field goal. A glaring and blinking holiday intrusion. They've locked the front gate and installed an admission booth where they charge eight dollars a carload. People are staying away in droves. Irma Patterson lives at the top of the hill overlooking the park. We park our cars in front of her house and view the lights for free.
Tell you what I fear the most. I'm afraid that after having a million lights down at Ellis Park, Cleo's lights up on the square won't hold the same magic for us. That after a while those plywood angels will lose their ability to enchant us. That before long we'll be passing a bond issue to buy even more lights and duplicate all over town the desecration that's happened to our park.
I don't know how these things happen. The men and women of the Chamber are the finest individuals you'd ever want to meet. Top notch. But I wonder if when they voted on this idea they considered the consequences. How if it snows in December the kids won't be able to sled down the parking lot hill without knocking an electric Santa on his can. How when folks are coming home from a tiring day in the city they don't want to pass their park and be assailed by car exhaust and throbbing lights. They want to see snow-dappled trees and Mike Glover on his horse-drawn sleigh, the horses exhaling great clouds of frost in the evening air. Now all of that will be gone in December. I wonder if the Chamber thought of that.
As for me and my red house, we're sticking to the basics. Christmas Eve worship at the Quaker meetinghouse. No gaudy lights, just the twinkle of candle and starry hosts. A simple celebration to honor a simple truth-"God so loved the world that He sent His only son, that whosoever would believe in Him would not perish but have everlasting life." That's why Cleo's plywood angels have smiles on their faces. Because they remember what the rest of us have long forgot.
Christmas isn't about lights in the park. It's about the One who is Light in a world gone dark.
I pray yours is a merry one, free from glare, yet full of Light.
Phil Gulley is a contributing editor to Quaker Life, and author of the best selling devotional books Home Town Tales and Front Porch Tales. He lives in Danville, Indiana. Phil's next book, For Everything a Season, is expected in late March 1999.
Copyright (c) 1998 Friends United Meeting
Return to December 1998 Contents page