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Kangaroo Korner

posted Oct 23, 2014, 3:17 PM by Bowmansville UMC

A very Happy Thanksgiving to you all, dear friends from BUMC.  I pray that your homes and hearts are warm and full in this wonderful time of thanks and praise.  Before continuing our story, here is a brief recap of what has transpired so far from the writings of Paul O'Neill for The Trans Siberian Orchestra in his second story, "The Christmas Attic":  The little girl, whose Christmas spirit had been badly bruised by misguided children, sat in the old attic on Christmas Eve, reading letters she found in a trunk.  Unseen, God's angel sat with her, directing her thoughts and helping her find a road to healing...Chapter Three--'The Spirit-Transforming Letter'.

"The last letter that she found was by a ribbon gently bound to the key for a small music box.  And she placed that key into its lock.  And the melody that it had learned once again began to turn.  And as that tune it filled the air, she opened the letter that was there.  And that letter contained a news clipping about a man with many things in this world, a great success--and where he lived, the best address.  His happy life the world did know because the papers told us so.   But the angel, he could clearly see that all was not as it appeared to be. For on this night, as snow clouds gathered, that man wondered if that all really mattered.  And on this night, inside his home, he realized that he was quite alone.  And he asked himself what his life had meant, how all these years they had been spent, and how he could feel his life such a waste, when he had every dream that he had chased.  But then the angel whispered in his ear, and in his mind the man heard clear:  'Tell me one wish that you have granted.  Tell me one life you've enchanted.  Tell me one of these things that you have done!'

But the man could not recall a single one.  He was close to no one, this thing he did know.  Well--there was one person, but that was long ago.  And though that someone had been far more than a friend, it was far too late to ever go back to her again.  And he reflected on the years he squandered on things he was now regretting.  For we all seem to give our lives away searching for things that we think we must own.  Until on this evening, when the year is leaving, we all try to find our way home.

There is something about this night, that the Lord has arranged, that reaches deep into our souls and causes us to want to change.  And angels know things about us that no one else can know.  And this angel's heart, it formed a plan, and then caused the night to snow...

And the little girl had carefully read that article, and when she was all done, she started on the letter, and it was the saddest one.  It was from a lady recalling the Christmas she had given her beloved a music box, and how they had shared the music by soft candlelight and the glittering tree ornaments reflected in the fireplaces's warm glow.  But all these things are now long gone, and not to be wished upon again; and upon that Christmas scene, the candle wax of melted dreams and ornaments of shattered glass--now belonging to the past.

Behind that single letter was a weathered photograph of that man in the article, but from somewhere in his past.  And standing there beside him, in a setting summer sun, was the lady who used to own this house--only here, she was quite young.  She had moved to a smaller place that was only right next door.  And then the child noticed something else that she had missed before--this letter had no stamp, it seemed, and was surely never sent.  And as she sat upon the floor, that child, she wondered what it meant.  Then the angel whispered to her a most important fact--that for compassion to be real, it requires one to act.  Then once again that child came up with a child's idea, but she knew she must act fast--for time, it was growing dear..."

Next month, 'The Conclusion'.  May God's grace and peace continue to be your bounty...Mary


"No man can live happily who regards himself alone, who turns everything to his own advantage.  Thou must live for another, if thou wishest to live for thyself."  Seneca

"Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us..." 1 John 3:1