How Scrooge Saved Chirstmas

 

Last updated 11/22/2021 at 2:37pm



OK, Scrooge didn't save the world but it is hard to think of Christmas without thinking about Scrooge. In 1843, Charles Dickens didn't realize when he wrote "A Christmas Carol" that 175 years later people would still love the story.

We can sympathize with Scrooge, he had a horrible childhood, he was orphaned, his sister died, he lost the woman he loved . . . we can understand why he turned into a bitter, miser who only loved money. Then comes redemption. He changes, he has a new heart, he learns to love people and love life and he shares his wealth with the less fortunate. He learns to love and finds happiness. If Scrooge hadn't changed, the story would have been pointless, depressing and forgotten.

When I was a young mother, we lived on a farm, and money was scarce. I remember standing in Walmart trying to make up my mind whether to buy two plastic riding tractors for my two sons. I'd already bought toys for them; they were only three and four years old, they would have "enough" under the tree. Yet, I could picture them riding those tractors.

A clerk asked if he could help me and I told him I was having trouble deciding whether or not I should buy the tractors. The tractors were cheap, but I felt like I had already spent enough on toys.

The clerk said he'd had three children and that he never regretted the money he spent on his kids, but he often regretted the money he hadn't spent.

I bought the tractors. My sons loved them and spent hours riding them up and down the sidewalk. The tractors were their favorite toys. I would have regretted not buying them.

Throughout my life, I've often asked myself if I'd feel better by doing something or if I'd feel worse by not doing it. I've often regretted doing the right things for the wrong people. People have taken advantage of me, lied to me, used me and abused me and stolen from me. I've trusted the wrong people, I have regrets.

When we are young we know exactly what we want for Christmas, and a few toys can make us happy for months. As we get older, we want more, our "toys" are more expensive. When our children grow up and leave home, all we want is for them to come home for Christmas.

My son lives in Australia, 9,000 miles away. I'll never get to see him or my grandchildren again. My daughter lives in Hawaii, 5,000 miles away. Nobody is coming home for Christmas; my children have their own homes, their own children. They are starting their own traditions.

A friend of mine recently lost his wife; they'd been married 40 years. He told me, "I didn't know how much she did until she was gone, she took care of the house, paid the bills, cooked, cleaned, did laundry, had a garden. I didn't even notice until suddenly everything fell on me. I didn't notice she pampered me, cooking my favorite foods, baking the best pies in the world. I never knew how happy I was until she was gone and everything was gone with her."

There is an old saying about how we don't miss the water until the well runs dry. We don't realize how good our life is until something happens to turn things upside down.We have to be happy now; we can't wait until things are perfect. We can't be happy because of what someone else does or doesn't do. We can't be happy tomorrow or next month or next year, we have to find some reason to be happy now because now is all we have.

pixabay/cocoparisienne

But regardless of how difficult, sad, heartbreaking a year has been (and this year has been awful), when Christmas comes and we see the decorated trees and Christmas lights and hear the Christmas carols, Joy to the World, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Silent Night, something stirs deep inside our hearts. It tells us it's not the end of the world; things will get better. Jesus was born, God loves us and is still on his throne.

We can start over. We can do better. We can be happy again.

Merry Christmas and a Happy, Happy 2022!

Crying Wind is the author of Crying Wind and My Searching Heart, When the Stars Danced, and Thunder in Our Hearts, Lightning in Our Veins.

 
 

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