“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8
It is one of my favorite Christmas memories and this is a story I have told before and most certainly will tell again. I wish I could tell you the lengths that my Daddy and Momma would go to make sure we had a wonderful Christmas. Daddy had a good job, but with a bunch of kids, money was always tight. If I were guessing, we were probably at the bottom of the middle class. But somehow, they always managed to make sure every Christmas was a fairytale. One year stands out.
I was in the sixth grade and by now I had moved into the world of “nonbelievers”—if you get my drift. I remember the year Momma told me I could stay up later with the adults. I guess you could say I graduated. That night, we visited, talked, and ate. I’m sure Momma and some of the girls were in the kitchen preparing for Christmas Day. At about 11:00 pm, I remember Momma telling me that perhaps I should go ahead and go to bed. “Maybe,” she said, “Santa Claus might still be coming to town.” Ho, Ho, Ho.
Since it was so late, I didn’t put up much of a fuss. I never was much of a person to stay up late—until I started dating that is. Smile. So, off to bed I went. There were no visions of sugar drops dancing in my head—like I said, I was a “non-believer”. Our house was an old, former World War II barracks and was long and narrow. At one end was the kitchen, then a small dining room, next a living room with the bathroom and two small bedrooms, a breezeway and finally a garage turned bedroom. That is where I slept.
The next morning, sometime early, I got up. I’m not sure if someone woke me up or it was just time. I wandered through the breezeway into the living room where several of the family were sitting. I backed up to the old two-burner oil stove and warmed up a little. After just a few minutes, Daddy said, “Dewayne, go get me a cup of coffee.” Coffee was a big deal around the Taylor house, so it certainly was not an unusual request. I lingered just a moment more, savoring the warmth of the stove before heading to the kitchen.
As I left the living room and entered the dining room, I almost stumbled on something. There parked right in the middle of the walkway to the kitchen was the most incredible red, English-racer bicycle you have ever seen. Now, keep in mind, this was back when bikes were all the rage—unlike today when if it doesn’t have batteries or require electricity, it’s not even worth mentioning. It was beautiful. The frame was bright, metallic red, the fenders were chrome, it had three speeds, hand brakes and, wait for it, a generator light.
I was amazed. Not in all my years could I have ever imagined such an extravagant gift. Somewhere there is a home video that my brother shot of the grand moment. I was like someone who had just won the lottery—and from my perspective—I had. I petted it, hugged every one I could find, threw on some clothes and went off into the darkness with my new English racer. And that generator light—oh yes, it lit the way. And if that wasn’t enough, keep in mind this was in North Florida, it was warm enough to ride—even early in the morning.
Like I said, my parents went way out of their way to gift us at Christmas. Things might have been lean during the year but at Christmas, they pulled out the stops. I had an idea how they did it. Saving was not practical on such a limited budget, but they would get one of those loans from a finance company and then pay it off throughout the year. It was so sacrificial. I know I have many things to be grateful for from my parents, but the lengths they went to, so we could have Christmas, touches my heart to this day. I know it probably didn’t make financial sense, but they loved us that much.
I have another parent who did something that didn’t make sense either…and it involved Christmas and Easter. That would be my Heavenly Father. Knowing the world needed a rescue, a redemption, He sent His only Son into this broken world as a baby just so He could grow up and then give Himself to a Roman cross—just for us. Paul, the guy God used to write a bunch of the New Testament, said it this way, “But God demonstrated His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” While we were still broken, still messed up, unloving and unappreciative, Jesus died for us. Nope, it made no sense but that is what I love about God. I know sometimes He allows things that I don’t understand…like when I pray for someone to be healed and it just doesn’t work out like I want. But to know that He loved me enough to create Christmas and Easter—well, that’s just amazing.
Remember this Christmas day, to be grateful for the sacrifices made on your behalf by the people who touch our lives. I know for some that might be difficult. But try and find the good that is lurking somewhere out there. But first of all and most of all, be sure and thank God for the greatest gift ever—His own Son and His sacrifice, that we can be forgiven and look forward to being in heaven one day. Of course, having God as your Dearest Daddy means you get the Gift that keeps on giving. He walks with us every day and through everything, side by side, hand in hand, and we have the grand assurance that no matter what—He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne
Grits with Grace 