assault and unconcerned by its consequence. No hat, no gloves, and covered in a frosty glaze of ice.
I like to think I’d have stopped for him regardless of the season, but I felt overwhelmingly compelled to do so because it was just days prior to Christmas. I sat on my heels at his side and offered him five bucks for a muffin and coffee and the validation of customer status that leery inner-city coffee shop staff often require. A bite to eat and a few minutes of escape from the squall. But he did not reach for the money. He simply looked at me sideways and began talking, as though we were commiserating friends, midway through a lengthy conversation.
“Y’know, it’s not the freezing cold, or the hunger…
“It’s not even wondering where I’ll sleep tonight, or being afraid...”
He paused, tilted his face into the bullets of ice, and continued.
“It’s having no one be proud of me that I can’t bear.”
His head dropped, and he began weeping.
I stayed, and we visited for another fifteen minutes, until we were both enshrined in ice. Finally, he stood when I did. I offered him the five dollars again, and he accepted it. Then I walked north with the wind at my back, and he walked south, directly into the storm.
How metaphoric.
Since that day, I have not engaged or passed by a single homeless person and not wondered where their longing truly lies. If their bellies hunger for food more than their spirits long for hope. If their bodies long for rest more than their minds long for peace. If their hearts long for anything at all more than to have someone be proud of them.
While I received the overwhelming gift of his unconditional transparency found in a few real-time minutes of his story, the gifts Jim received from me were fifteen minutes of a stranger’s ear and not even enough money to buy a cheap lunch. While I would never sell short the modest value of that, my hunch is, while I recall those moments with Jim often, he has not thought of me again since the moment he finished a coffee and cruller that day.
The simple story of my encounter with Jim could easily be spun into countless talking points worthy of contemplation, just as I hope the stories in the chapters that follow will be. But, as footings prepared for the foundation of this book, there are but two imperative questions:
One: Would I have stopped and done the same if I hadn’t been waist deep in the Christmas season?
Two: And if so, even then, would I have done so for the right reasons?
Y’see, even at Christmas, when a great many of us might consider ourselves at our best in regard to sharing extra portions of the fruit of the spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control—all too often the motivation is steeped in a subtly (or sometimes not so subtly) self-serving “feel-good” agenda.
Don’t get me wrong; I personally think the feel-good factor is lovely. In fact, I have banked an entire career on its rewards to the psyche. The concern is not at all that feeling good by doing good is a sweet perk. Yay and yay again to that! I am a firm believer in the plain truth that we receive as we give, and that in that magical, hopeful exchange, we are ultimately at our best. Rather, the concern is that all too often “getting” is the driving force.
In fact, if ever there is a time when genuine goodwill stands to be lost in the mire of personal agenda, it’s at Christmas. It’s both a nuanced peculiarity and a mighty reality, never more obvious than in the December inquiries received by small, mid-sized, and large street missions alike.
There’s a common dialogue that occurs in countless locales across North America that (while admittedly generalized here) rings only too true far and wide. It goes something like this:
Caller: “Hello. My family [substitute at will—church group, office team, youth group, etc.] would like to come and be part of serving a Christmas meal.”
Mission: “Thank you so much. But we already have too many people who have offered for the month of December. We are actually over-volunteered for Christmas meals. However, we sure could use the same kind of offer and help later in January or through February!”
Caller: “Oh my. Hmmm. Well, we really wanted to do it at Christmas, y’know? I will call another mission and see if we can do it there.”
End of call, and repeat. But sadly, no callback in January or February.
There’s some kind of societal magic about engaging with the poor and the poor in spirit at Christmas that seemingly vaporizes just as magically on Boxing Day. A strange stardust that begins to fall over people at the start of December, sometimes even in late November, but lifts before the Christmas leftovers are gone.
I think that synergetic spirit generally originates from a sweet, soulful place of recognizing one’s blessings during a time when we agree to do so en masse. This impulse is no doubt heightened by the aesthetic of the season’s greeting card sentiments, music, movies and decorations. And, should things be as they should be, in consideration of the first Christmas—for many people, this tender spirit is ultimately borne out of humble reverence to Emmanuel’s arrival, away in a manger.
But what if that impulse persisted throughout the calendar year? Indeed, the challenge and encouragement presented to all of us in these pages is to find a way to live in the deep tenderness and kindness of Christmastime all year long. And the unambiguous question to and for Christians specifically is, “Do you?” and, if not, “Why don’t you?” Would this not be the very tenor of your faith?
Given its distinctly “Christmassy” title, I know the odds are high that if this book has found its way into your hands, you have likely either received it as a Christmas gift or purchased it for yourself or to share during the season of Advent. If so, welcome, and a happy Christmas to you. I am honoured and humbled to have you take it on.
Still, nothing would make me happier than to imagine readers picnicking in the park at the end of the school year or sitting dockside in the middle of July with this book in hand, signifying that this is as much a warm weather read as it is a stocking stuffer. Perhaps an intriguing choice for a springtime book club? Or a prospective read for an autumn retreat?
As you journey through this book, already on the other side of Moira Brown’s gracious foreword, you will now find some non-traditional features. Spaced between series of chapters you will find interludes written by two of my most esteemed friends and best buddies—acclaimed singer-songwriter Steve Bell and celebrated author Greg Paul. While there are several words used in the dictionary to define “interlude,” my favourite is “breathing space.” Both Steve and Greg kindly accepted my invitation to provide breathing space contributions that hone the subtitle’s centrepiece focal points: comfort and joy. Additionally, this is the third book that I have written that includes a benediction. While my books introduce readers to many intriguing people by way of others’ and my stories, my hope is always that anyone turning the pages feels that what is written is somehow intimately for and about them. Thus, taking into account that a benediction is ultimately meant as a “blessing,” the closing words from greatly-admired journalist Lorna Dueck are written as a final gesture of bestowing blessing upon you.
But perhaps what most sets The Yuletide Factor apart from other books of its kind is the chapter-by-chapter reflection and discussion guide. It was a component I really wanted to include, but I knew that it would be best that it not be written by me. There is more than enough from my head and heart in the chapters that follow. Again, I wanted to be sure that things ultimately turn back to you,
