When you are old, kids and grandkids doing their thing, what are you left with? Memories. And, let's face it, Christmas is more a cultural holiday than a religious one and so most celebrate the day, regardless of their faith.
I was in Seminary before the Army. Next door, was Bill Stebbins. I recall his name as it is a chance to honor his memory. A really great guy. A “Yankee” from Boston. Bill was an engineer and had enjoyed a meteoric rise in his profession but along the way, he got the “call,” and here we were, Divinity School buds. It is Christmas eve. My daughter has her heart set on a "play stove" that actually glows and has a small amount of heat and a 5 year old can pretend to cook. Meg is asleep, sugar plums dancing in her head. I have to put the stove together. How hard can it be. Two hours later, I am no further along than when I began. All the parts are laid out, no sweat.
Admitting I have no abilities, I call in my back-up plan, my next door neighbor, Bill, the engineer. A “piece of cake,” he says. Five hours later just as the sun is coming up, we get it together. A great Christmas but not nearly as great as the story told over and over. Here we had an engineer and it took him five hours. What chance does a mere mortal have? A great Christmas. Lesson learned, “Is this already assembled?
“No.“
“Forget it” !!!!!!
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