by – Denny Hook

49 years ago, on Dec. 10, 1973 when I was doing long-haul trucking, I was dispatched to Algoma, WI to pick up 40,000 lbs. of 40# blocks of cheese going to Springfield, MO. Algoma is almost in Door county, which is absolutely beautiful during tourist seasons. There was already 6” of snow on the ground and it was coming down steadily in huge flakes. I stopped to ask directions to the small mom and pop cheese plant. Main Street was decorated with garland lights from side to side making it look like a tunnel. All the stores were lit up bright and shoppers were everywhere. Even now the memory of that night is so vivid. It later served as the inspiration in 1986 when I wrote the Christmas play entitled “The Gift”. It has been performed in several churches, but I edited it into story form for this blog. It has a powerful message, and I do hope you will read it and share it with your FB friends. Have a blessed Christ centered Christmas!

The slowly descending snowflakes, each with its own unique pattern, seemed to resemble tiny little white parachutes as they gracefully floated past the streetlights landing ever so gently on the ground below. They were joining the innumerable host of others, who for hours had been making their delicate flights that would never again be repeated. They were laying quite still now, almost as if dead, and yet alive as they reflected a myriad of prisms from the multi-colored Christmas lights that so brightly decorated the street and store front windows. In the air was the faint sound of Christmas music. That, combined with the ever-increasing snow and the constant ding-a-ling dinging of a Salvation Army soldier’s bell, seemed to create a symphony of serenity, peace, and joy. The snow, increasing with intensity, had an almost insulating calming effect, so that even the passing cars seemed to be quietly tiptoeing by, and the occasional horn blast was reduced to a melodious muffled toot. Suddenly, as if the conductor had waved his baton, yet another sound was added to the symphony. Voices filled the air as ecstatic shoppers began to line the sidewalks, darting in and out of the different shops and stores that created the backdrop in this Currier and Ives setting. Everyone seemed to be so happy as they shuffled along in the now six-inch-deep white blanket that covered everything. Children were giggling as they would try to outrun each other and be the first one to make their footprints in any yet undisturbed snow. Parents could be heard as trumpets declaring, “Be careful, don’t fall!  Stay away from the curb! Don’t get too far ahead of us!” All the while wishing their bodies were young again, so they too could join in the gleeful frolicking. Pausing by a jewelry store window, a young couple appearing to be in their twenties, stood holding hands. With fingers pointing to, and eyes scanning the many rings on display, their quiet voices resemble the sweetness of violins as they turn to each other and embrace. They seem unaware of, and yet a part of the symphony around them. A taxi stops to let off an elderly woman in front of a big department store. No doubt she is a grandmother on her way to buy presents for her precious grandchildren that will be filling her otherwise quiet house with laughter on Christmas day. To her, this winter extravaganza is a hindrance to what normally would have meant driving her own car. Limited to only what she can carry, her mind is feverishly trying to plan her purchases as she thinks to herself. “Now let me see, Billy is ten. I wonder if he would like-.“ Her thoughts are interrupted momentarily by the blast of an air horn from an irate trucker stopped directly behind the taxi. “All these cars, people everywhere gettin’ in my way! I don’t have time to sit here waiting! Come on, move that taxi will ya, or I’ll push ya outta the way!” He gives his air horn a couple more tugs. “This load’s gotta be in Dallas by tomorrow morning. If I don’t make it, I’ll be stuck there and won’t get home for Christmas. Come on lady, would ya hurry up and pay the guy!” She hands the cabby $20 and tells him to keep the change. She wishes him a Merry Christmas in a flute-like voice and quickly exits the taxi, avoiding another blast of air horn while the trucker expresses his impatience one last time. “’Bout time! Alright now, nobody else goof me up. I’m out a here!” His engine roars as he picks up speed and soon all that can be seen is a cloud of snow billowing up around the truck unmercifully. Yes, even the loud thundering kettle drum has a part in this symphony.

All is peaceful now again, and the concert continues. But something is out of tune. Something doesn’t fit. Something doesn’t belong! Or rather, someone doesn’t belong! Where? There, coming from out of that dark alley. Slowly and almost as if in a daze, a dark figure appears. Startled by the man’s untimely entrance, a passing dog suddenly barks at him like the clashing of cymbals. Then, seeing him not to be a threat, the dog continues down the street, stopping to look back now and then just to be sure. The man stops and surveys the symphony for a moment, then staggers slowly down the sidewalk. He stops to lean against a building, totally unnoticed by some and by others ignored and avoided. He knows he doesn’t belong. He knows he’s out of key so to speak, alone in a crowded world. The song “Away in a Manger” could be heard coming from a store playing Christmas carols. He sees the children playing and hears them talking excitedly about what they want for Christmas. He remembers how he too felt the same way when he was a child.  A flashback of days gone by appears in his mind. He continues to reflect on his youth and how happy he was as a child. Then, he did have a place to lay his head; so warm, safe, and cozy; quite different from now. He thought to himself, “If I had the money these people are spending on presents, I would buy a nice hot meal, another bottle of brandy, and a room for the night.” The song “Silent Night” was now playing in the background, and it sparked another distant memory. He remembered singing that and “Joy to the World” in a Christmas play at church. He allowed his mind to return to a time when everything was so uncomplicated, exciting and full of joy. The words echoed in his mind finding no place to rest in his empty soul. Oh yes, he’d heard about Jesus. Who hasn’t?  He thought, “I went to church, never really hurt anyone, and tried to be a good person. Well, maybe I do drink a little bit, but who doesn’t! I need to relieve my tensions and stress somehow.” He sees the young couple and reflects how he used to have a young bride, and the hopes they once shared for the future. A lump begins to form in his throat. If only he hadn’t been so intent on making it to the top of the corporate ladder. If only he hadn’t made money his god. If only he would have spent more time at home, he^ld still have one. If only he hadn’t started drinking to relieve his stress. If only, if only, if only! Finding it hard to hold back his emotions any longer, tears began to stream down his face. He raises the sleeve of a dingy tattered old coat to wipe away the dampness in his eyes, only to smear the dirt on his stubbly whiskered face. He moves on. Alcohol had ruined his life and he knew it. He thought again, “If Jesus is real, why doesn’t he help me! Why doesn’t he do something?” Consumed with remorse, the man had not even noticed the big white limousine sitting by the curb, nor did he immediately hear the horn persistently honking to get his attention. Glancing over he saw the tinted window slowly being lowered and an out-stretched hand motioning him to come closer. As he approached, the hand withdrew, then reappeared. In it was a small box with a bow on top. His shaking hand reached out to accept the gift. The hand again withdrew, the window raised, and the limousine quietly drove away. As he stood there in awe looking at the small box, he thought, “Who was that? What can this be? Someone had actually given him a gift. A real gift, all wrapped up pretty and everything.”  He pondered for a moment and thought about opening it. Then he said, “Maybe I’ll just keep it in my pocket till Christmas and open it then; that way it’ll feel like it’s Christmas.” The snow was falling heavily now, and the sidewalks were becoming empty as the merchants began to close their businesses. The man must now begin his usual task of finding a place to huddle for the night. In an alley behind an appliance store, he found a discarded box from a range with the top still on it. He crouched down and pulled it over himself. He sat there in the dark beaming over his luck in finding such a wonderful shelter. Suddenly, he remembered the gift in his pocket. He carefully pulled it out holding it in anticipation of opening it on Christmas day.

Early the next morning the snow was still falling lightly as the appliance store owner unlocked the back door. He thought it strange that the box he had thrown out haphazardly the night before was now upside down and neatly positioned against the building. Even stranger were the barely visible tracks leading to the box, but not away. Not sure of what he would find he lifted the box, and there, still clutching a small, unwrapped gift, lay the silent frozen figure of a man in a dingy tattered old coat. Within minutes after notifying the authorities, the whole alley was a gallery of flashing lights and sirens. As the ambulance attendants covered the body, the coroner pried the small box from the man’s hand. Gently opening the lid, he almost lost his breath. There, folded neatly was a check for $50,000 and a note saying, “Merry Christmas” with the John 3:16 verse underneath. How sad he thought, that in the man’s own grasp, was the unopened gift whose contents were enough to deliver him from the depths of his poverty, if only he had opened it.

The slowly descending snowflakes, each with its own unique pattern, seemed to resemble tiny little white parachutes as they gracefully floated past the streetlights landing ever so gently on the ground below. They were joining the innumerable host of others, who for hours had been making their delicate flights that would never again be repeated. They were laying quite still now, almost as if dead, and yet alive as they reflected a myriad of prisms from the multi-colored Christmas lights that so brightly decorated the street and store front windows. In the air was the faint sound of Christmas music. That, combined with the ever-increasing snow and the constant ding-a-ling dinging of a Salvation Army soldier’s bell, seemed to create a symphony of serenity, peace, and joy. The snow, increasing with intensity, had an almost insulating calming effect, so that even the passing cars seemed to be quietly tiptoeing by, and the occasional horn blast was reduced to a melodious muffled toot. Suddenly, as if the conductor had waved his baton, yet another sound was added to the symphony. Voices filled the air as ecstatic shoppers began to line the sidewalks, darting in and out of the different shops and stores that created the backdrop in this Currier and Ives setting.  And, the symphony plays on, oblivious and indifferent to the tragedy of the man in the dingy tattered old coat.

In conclusion: You may think that the ending is too sad, depressing, and not fitting for a Christmas play, because it doesn’t leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling. It was not my intention to write a cute kid’s play depicting the birth of Jesus that seems to get recycled every year. Not that those are bad, but the reality is many people get so wrapped up in tradition and buying gifts that they fail to notice those who are struggling at Christmas time. Many people are alone, falling through the cracks, feeling insignificant, and thinking nobody cares. Families are separated by physical distance, past conflicts, and bad choices. Some live in constant fear of COVID, and the government claims we could die without the vaccine shot. The world’s problems, devastating weather tragedies, loss of loved ones, and just the uncertainties of living don’t take time off because it’s Christmas. We’ve heard it said that we need to put Christ back in Christmas. I submit that He never left, but it’s we ourselves that have lost our focus. It’s like the man with the gift in his pocket waiting for Christmas to open it. Isn’t that what so many do today? They carry Jesus around in their pocket all year and bring Him out at Christmas when it’s more socially acceptable. I’m not a scrooge and I do celebrate Christmas, but I refuse to get sucked up into the commercialization it has become. No, we need more of Jesus Christ Himself. He alone has the power to save us and help us through difficult times, which should be reason to celebrate Him all year long. I can’t remember what I got for Christmas last year, and probably won’t remember by this time next year what I’m getting this year, but I’ll always remember and never forget His wonderful gift of salvation that I opened and received September 30, 1983. Like the man in the play, a gift doesn’t benefit the one receiving it until it is opened. Have you ever done that yet? If not, then speaking plainly, you are the man in the play. You may not be going through problems identical to his, but just the same you have some. The biggest one is being separated from God by sin. The power to change your life has already been provided in Christ and rests in your hands. Open His gift today! Don’t wait for Christmas. You can rewrite the play and choose your own life’s ending. Perhaps you already know the Lord and have received His great gift to you, but you have been hesitant and reluctant to tell someone. Maybe you’re the person God wants to use to bring His wonderful gift to someone else who needs Him this Christmas. Pray, look for opportunities to show kindness to someone, step out of your comfort zone, and see what God will do. Quite frankly, I don’t like the way the play ends either, but I can’t change it. Only you can.

Have a blessed and God centered Christmas!