And God Likes Fruitcake

“How do you know there is a God?” was the mother of all questions and I had just summoned the courage to ask it of my dad. He looked at me as though I had just sprouted antlers and announced that I was moving to Finland for reindeer season.

He stood there, staring at me for a long few seconds. Then he took my hand and led me outside. With something of a flourish, he pointed to the full moon and stated in a tone filled with confidence and a little pity that his daughter was such a dolt, “See the moon up there? Man couldn’t have done that.” And with that profound explanation, he turned on the heels of his Allen Edmund shoes and went inside. I never asked for further details.

Malvin Lee Miller returned home after WWII, married the love of his life, and, together, they opened a mom-and-pop appliance and furniture store. Over the next 54 years, he greeted his customers with a smile and a kind heart. He was an ordinary man who had no idea that he lived an extraordinary life.

He financed his own accounts, building his business with customers who were routinely denied credit because of age, income, or race. He met every payroll and paid every debt on time. By the third of the month, the cash drawer was full, so customers without bank accounts could cash their Social Security checks. He often called taxis for the elderly ladies who walked from the housing project to pay their bills.

Customers could call, rather than come in, with a request for delivery of a washer or refrigerator. He handed out $2 bills to children and Claxton fruitcakes to customers during the Christmas season.

Before televisions were everywhere, he delivered them to schools so students could watch the latest rocket launch and to the hospitals when family or friends were ill. The delivery truck was routinely seen carrying empty boxes to Christmas Charities, schools, and churches for Vacation Bible School.

His children, their spouses, and grandchildren understood that they weren’t too good to take out the trash, clean the bathroom, count the change from the Coke machine, assemble furniture, or get up from the dining room table on Christmas day to deliver a bake element.

So what did I learn about God from my dad? That God trusts us to take care of one another. That God is neither too busy nor too important to lend a helping hand. And that God likes fruitcake.

The New Year

I am sitting at my desk on this the seventh day of the new year, rummaging once again through the many Christmas cards, pictures, and letters that Tim and I received last month. If you sent one of them, thank you, thank you, thank you. It you didn’t, well then…don’t feel too bad. I didn’t send any either. Please consider this—albeit late—my Christmas card and New Year’s good wishes all rolled into one and sent especially to you and yours.

I hope you have a 2010 that exceeds all expectations and is better than anything you could possibly imagine in your wildest dreams. I say this realizing full well that most of us have pretty low expectations, a blah imagination, and gave up dreaming years ago. Still I wish for you…
Money for a rainy day,
Peace for a troubled heart,
Patience for every irritation,
Health for a long life,
Love for yourself and others.

I hope you visit some place you have never been before; stretch your mind by learning something new; and stretch your heart by forgiving an old grudge. If you have something that has bedeviled you for far too long, I hope you find a way to let it go. Oh, and if you haven’t given up the “shoulds,” this would be the time.

Mother, bless her heart, used to spend the majority of her time, energy, and efforts on the “shoulds.” You know exactly what I am talking about if you are female and over thirty. By that ripe age, any woman with even a modicum of intellect could make a list of the things she “should” do that would rival a five-year-old’s Christmas list. I suppose men have their own issues with the “shoulds,” but I am not exactly sure what they are.

On Mother’s 50th birthday, she declared that she was no longer paying any attention to the “shoulds.” Of course, she was celebrating in San Francisco which might account for some of her inspiration. At any rate, she came home a changed woman. No longer was she vexed by the myriad of things that others thought she “should” do.

Please don’t let this be one of those “beige” years. Instead, try a little neon. And seriously consider giving up the “shoulds.”

ps—Let me know how 2010 works out for you.