Father of Lights

Last week I found myself reclined all the way back on an outdoor chair on my back deck, staring at the sky in wonder.  My teeth were chattering, mostly because the mercury was hovering somewhere in the forty-degree mark, and well, I didn’t exactly dress for the occasion.  I hadn’t planned on spending an hour outside reverse prostrate staring into the heavens late into the evening, but there I was.  I wore a hoody on the top half and flip flops and basketball shorts on the bottom half.  I guess you could say it was wardrobe dissonance. 

I walked outside around nine o’clock and looked up, not expecting I’d actually see anything, but sure enough there it was.  Shooting stars!  Lots of them.  They weren’t stars exactly, but meteors from the Geminids meteor shower.  I was blown away.  I stayed out there until I saw no less than ten awe inspiring white streaks across the sky.  I was wonderstruck.  A few of the more robust displays made me audibly gasp with excitement.  There’s something about the raw displays of nature that grounds and roots us in the fact that we are but specs of dust.  We just don’t matter in the grand scheme of things, yet we do. 

We mattered so much, in fact, that around 2,000 years ago a child was born that changed the entire world.  We’ve heard the stories of a Savior born in a manger, and those wisemen following a bright north star to meet him.  I can imagine they were awestruck when they saw him; the fulfilment of their scriptures.  They brought gifts fitting for a king, and were filled with good tidings, and joy.  Doesn’t that sum up this season in a nutshell!  A little bit of wonder with a splash of joy, and the realization that our hope has come.

I assume, much to my personal chagrin, that’s why my own father creates such elaborate Christmas displays.  His entire property turns into a wonderland that would make Clark Griswold cry.  I hate it.  But the “people” love it, so I get it.  It ain’t about me anyway.  I’m glad he does it, even though…bah humbug.  We didn’t grow up making a big deal out of Christmas, I honestly can’t remember any specific special Christmas growing up.  The perk of having divorced parents, I guess, is that we got multiple Christmases at least.  Sometime, likely during the rearing of my younger two half siblings, my dad turned into “Mr. Christmas.” 

It's a slow night between Thanksgiving and Christmas when less than 200 people drive through his circular driveway to experience the Christmas inflatable decoration fiasco.  I avoid it like the plague personally, simply because I don’t want to wait in line to see my own dad.  Again, my disdain for Christmas decorations and fabricated merriment likely is way deeper than expensive illuminated displays, but that’s a story for another day.  I just don’t have the same Christmas spirit my father does I suppose.  Despite his complaints when people get out of their cars, which is against his rules, he loves it.  He lives for this season.  My dad won’t admit it, but he loves the attention it brings.  He loves seeing the joy on the faces of the children as they pass by all the air-filled illuminated characters littering his property.  I respect that, even though that wasn’t our experience growing up.  I’m glad he’s able to share his passion now.

There are worse things to spend time and money on.  The intent is to bring joy and, well, isn’t that what Christmas is all about?  James 1:17 says “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” So, I suppose I got the heavenly lights last week while watching the meteor shower, and to me that was an awesome gift.  The way watching those meteors made me feel tiny and insignificant in the best of ways helped to recalibrate my perspective.  It doesn’t matter, in the best of ways, so enjoy the light show! My actual father though, he’s your man if you want to see some Earthly store-bought lights.  I assure you, there are no shadows on his property this time of year.  Wear sunscreen, and stay in your cars though…just in case Old Saint Lake decides to momentarily lose that holiday spirit.  And to all a good night.  Merry Christmas.

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Click the image or this link to see an old news report about my dad’s inflatable displays and if you’re near by, go visit them off Muddy Creek Rd in Archdale, NC, you can’t miss it!

Click HERE

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