Christmas 1977 and 2020

      Tuesday morning, I found a verse I’d written on one of those 3x5 cards I carry in my pocket, from Isaiah 46:4 - Even to your old age and gray hair I am he who will sustain you. I have made you; I will carry you; and I will rescue you.

      I found this especially comforting. Maybe because it’s only two days before Christmas and my heart is seasonally soft. And I can’t explain why but reading about God sustaining me in my old age (a description which I still relegate to my dad and his buddies, not to me) and gray hair (OK, I can’t avoid the gray hair part, especially since I spent my Covid quarantine year growing more of it) reminded of my of one of my favorite stories from more than forty years ago when I was young and had lots of brown hair. It was Christmas 1977 at my grandparent’s house on Lake J B Thomas in Scurry County, Texas.

      My grandparents, Roy and Pauline Haynes, owned a very cool house that should have been on the lake shore. It had a boat house that should have launched their boat directly into the water, and a private covered fishing dock that should have run about 200’ out into the lake. But the water level in the lake was so low the actual shoreline was a hundred yards or more away from the house. Just the same, it was a fun place to go for Christmas.

      I was an engineering student at the University of Oklahoma in the middle of my first senior year (I had two). I drove down from Norman arriving a couple of days ahead of my parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. I could have driven to Hobbs and then traveled to the lake with mom and dad, but I wanted to avoid the extra hours driving.

      In retrospect, I think the real reason I wanted to drive myself to the lake was because it seemed more adult-like to arrive on my own, as an individual who was only loosely affiliated. And I had to drive back to Norman soon after Christmas to join the Pride of Oklahoma marching band on their way to the Orange Bowl.

      I’d planned to finish my last final on Wednesday morning, spend that afternoon and night sleeping off the all-nighter I pulled at Sambo’s Restaurant studying for the test, and then drive to the lake on Thursday. What actually happened was this - I walked out of my Physical Chemistry final about mid-morning and I was so happy to be done with finals I just loaded up my 1971 four-door Ford Maverick with cassette deck and CB radio and hit the road. Using all my 21-year-old power of reasoning I convinced myself I was alert and awake enough to make the trip. On the seat beside me I had coffee and a package of No Doze caffeine tablets (my adventure as a drug user!). I was tired of being alone in my apartment and feeling the bulletproofness of youth I hit the road after being awake for the previous thirty hours. It was typical college student decision making.

      I specifically remember one gift I received that year for Christmas: a brown teddy bear with a big red bow given to me by Cyndi Richardson, who lived in Hobbs. The bear was named Festus. I have a photo of me in my grandmother’s favorite chair holding Festus and smiling with a stupid grin since boys (even at 21) don’t know how to pose with stuffed animals. I remember the bear so well because it was an indicator of intent from a girl I liked but wasn’t sure how she felt about me. This was way before email and texting, when long-distance phone calls cost a lot of money, and it was difficult to be sure about relationships when we lived 450 miles apart in the 55-mph era.

      That teddy bear, and Cyndi’s effort to get it to me, made Christmas 1977 one of my favorites. And Cyndi still tells how nervous she was to drop it off with my parents so they could bring it to the lake.

      And now here we are, forty-three Christmases later, still loving those stories and remembering how unstable our relationship felt. If we’d known then how God would sustain us and carry us and rescue us, over and over for a lifetime, maybe we would’ve felt more secure. Those things that felt on-the-bubble when we were young now seem destined. Maybe the old age and gray hair helps us appreciate how we were cared for all that time.

      This year Cyndi and I will spend Christmas with our brand-new daughter-in-law, our son, and our daughter and granddaughters. We are excited and happy wondering what stories will come out of this. I hope, forty years from now, they will all look back at God’s sustaining care and remember these times we had together.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32