Paying attention to what lies beneath

Dec. 26, 2002

Dear Leslie,

It seems we are never prepared for how quickly Christmas comes and how soon it is gone. Ours was white and cold. The last time we had a white Christmas was 10 years ago. I had recently moved back to Missouri. DC was home for Christmas from California. We were only a few blocks apart but as yet unaware of our significance to each other.

At DC's church this Christmas Eve her minister presented a meditation based on a Frederick Buechner tale written from the point of view of the vilified innkeeper who turned Mary and Joseph away just as Jesus was about to be born.

"Do you know what it's like to run an inn -- to run a business, a family, to run anything in this world, for that matter -- even your own life? It's like being lost in a forest of a million trees, and each tree is a thing to be done. Is there fresh linen on all the beds? Did the children put their coats on before they went out? Has the letter been written ... the book read? Is there enough money left in the bank? ... A million trees. A million things ... Finally, we have eyes for nothing else, and whatever we see turns into a thing."

We attune ourselves to significance or risk missing, like the innkeeper, wonders completely within our ability to see and hear and feel.

All the dogs received many chewable presents this year. Alvie, the beagle, is the only one who hides his bones. He meticulously buries them beneath the blanket on the cushion he sleeps on in our bedroom. Unfortunately, Hank and Lucy know this hiding place well. They check the blanket first thing every morning and little Alvie ends up grumbling.

Dogs often pay much better attention than we do.

On the way home from church Christmas Eve, we stopped by a friend's house. DC noticed that one of her three dogs was missing. Our friend explained that a student at the school where she teaches had wanted a dog just like that most of her life and finally found one at the Humane Society shelter. The Humane Society promised Alex the dog if another family that got there first didn't take it. They didn't think the family would. Her Christmas wish was all but true.

Alex had fallen in love with that dog, and when the other family did claim it her heart broke.

At school in the days afterward, Alex was very sad.

Our friend loved her dog, Charlie, too, but living in her household was difficult for him. One of her other dogs is much bigger and injured Charlie awhile back just being playful.

Our friend decided to give Charlie to Alex for Christmas, but she was unprepared for how she would feel watching Charlie leave with the little girl's parents. Separating from someone you love sometimes feels as if cords between your hearts were being pulled apart.

Christmas came early for Alex to end her sadness. Her parents explained that Santa Claus had a present that couldn't go in the sleigh so he was going to deliver it to them ahead.

Now Alex can't stop talking about her new dog. But seeing the little girl's joy sometimes causes our friend to suffer.

Isn't that why selflessness is so difficult?

It was just a matter of a little girl at school talking about a dog. Unlike the innkeeper, our friend was paying attention.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.