I can't recall how old my children were when I first took them to see the Missouri Repertory Theatre's production of Charles Dickens grand old tale A Christmas Carol. I do recall, however, their wide-eyed wonderment as the lights lowered and the story began to unfold on stage. A holiday tradition began for us that year, and for several years following, my kids and I would get all dressed up and head out for our afternoon or evening at the theatre. One performance was extra special to our little family ... the year that we took our sweet friend Annie along with us the Christmas before she passed away unexpectedly a few months later. In fact, I don't think I had been back to the Missouri Rep for the Christmas performance since that year until today.
It was a busy day for me, a day that began with a visit to the stupid head doctor ... a visit that was a difficult one for me, one in which she challenged me about my relationship with God. To give you an idea of how our session went, more than once I said the following words, "I hate it when you're right." To which she replied, "I hate it when you don't listen." Yep ... nuff said on that subject ... back to what I really want to write about tonight. After I left her office, I met a friend for lunch and then we went to see A Christmas Carol. I didn't tell my friend, but the minute I turned into the parking garage, memories from years gone by began to wash over me and I fought with everything in me to squelch the tears that threatened to overtake me. I've been a weepy mess for the last couple of weeks ... due in part to missing my children and knowing that this will be the first Christmas since Matt was born 28 years ago that our family won't all be together, and in part due to ... well, actually, I'm not sure what the other part is due to ... I've just been weepy and sad this week (except for suspenders day, of course). I managed to blink back the waterworks, but the memories that invaded my mind only grew stronger with each step I took as we made our way into the theatre. Memories are powerful things, friends ... powerful things indeed.
As the story commenced, I found myself once again swept away by the words that Mr. Dickens penned hundreds of years ago ... so many words with such deep meaning, such a poignant reminder of the power of redemption and the priceless gift that is bestowed when a person is given a second chance. The story is replete with lessons, so replete in fact that I could pen countless posts on what I've learned from A Christmas Carol down through the years. It's one of those stories that seems to teach me something different each time I see the play or read the book, depending on what path on the journey of life I'm walking at the time. Today's performance proved true to that premise, as one scene in particular struck a chord deep within my soul ... the scene in which the ghost of Jacob Marley appears to Ebeneezer Scrooge and warns his old friend of how he will spend eternity lest he repent and change his ways. I haven't been able to shake the words of Mr. Marley from my mind all evening ... words that have caused me to search my heart ... words that have caused me to ponder my own depth of care for those less fortunate ... words that have caused me to reevaluate my level of generosity and how I give of myself to others. It seems only fitting to end this post with Mr. Marley's words ... words I am certain I will think on for a while ... words I pray will change me as they did Mr. Scrooge.
"Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunities misused! Yet such was I! Oh such was I!"
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