“Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?” asked Scrooge.
“I am!”
The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if, instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.
“Who and what are you?” Scrooge demanded.
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“Long Past?” inquired Scrooge; observant of its dwarfish stature.
“No. Your past.”
Perhaps Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap; and begged him to be covered.
“What!” exclaimed the Ghost, “would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow?”
Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend or any knowledge of having willfully “bonneted” the Spirit at any period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
“Your welfare!” said the Ghost.
Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:
“Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”
It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.
“Rise! and walk with me!”
(Quote from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens)
Some people seek to extinguish the light of their past, when in fact, that light is the beginning of our reclamation. Let us rise and walk. Let us raise our past as a means to enter our future.
Everything about my dad’s behavior suggested he loved Christmas. He became as giddy as a school child, something I think he missed growing up. His involvement and participation in family activities virtually went “through the roof” at Christmas. He secured the tree and set it up. It was Mom’s and our job to decorate it. He collaborated
with Mom to buy the gifts and selected many all on his own. He really knew what a little boy wanted! I think my mother did most of the wrapping but I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad helped. He posed for Christmas picture postcards one year (See above). He bought the long play Christmas albums that filled our house with seasonal cheer. He was the last one to bed on the eve and the first one up on The Day. Long before light he made sure no one else could sleep by pounding up and down the hall on those old wooden floors in our seventy-year-old pier-and-beam house. One year he was so excited about an unknown
gift from our neighbor Colonel Garrison that he instituted, for the one and only time mind you, an “open one gift on Christmas Eve” policy. His was a gold pocket watch stand. It was meant to hold an old Elgin railroad watch he bought from me for $3.00 back in the 4th grade! (That’s another story for another day.) The watch and stand set on my desk for many years and now occupies the top of a foldout desk positioned behind my work area. With the exception of one year, Christmas was my favorite time to be alive and belong to the Bob Roberts’ household.
My dad had ghosts from his Christmases past. My older brother David observes the strain in his memoirs, “…I know that Dad and Grandpa didn’t get along very well and I never saw Dad show any affection toward Nanny…” [1][i](That’s Dad’s mother, our grandmother). David makes this statement even though most of people thought of Dad as a “hugger”. There was clearly some “history” in those relationships.
I was the middle child and the second child of the same sex in our little family. I had all the symptoms. I was a pest and had an insatiable curiosity (nothing to do with being a middle child). I constantly peppered Dad with questions. On the very rare occasion he allowed me to peak into his pain, it was hard for me to understand. I remember pestering him one day about his dad. I had spent so little time with Papoo and he was so reserved, I knew almost nothing more than what I observed. So, I kept peppering Daddy, “What was your dad like?” “What was Papoo like?” Finally frustrated, he blurted out, “He was a mean, old, bitter, blankety blank!” But he didn’t say blankety blank! I backed off that day and later thought as I crawled toward adulthood, how much those very words could be used to describe Dad. He had become what he perceived his father to be. We both needed some understanding, some healing.
Dad’s “ghosts” from his past chased him into his future – and “haunted” him. He had “demons” he allowed to control him. He had an addictive personality. He was angry and often depressed. He was a binge alcoholic. Once he started drinking he couldn’t stop. He was one of those who had to stay completely away from alcohol. If he chose to drink, it would eventually lead to the loss of a job and income for his family. He joined Alcoholics Anonymous for a while and had modest success. But the “ghosts” of his past drove him to the darkness rather than the light. One year it would be on Christmas. No season was immune from the “ghosts”.
Unlike his parents, Dad and Mom were not religious. I’ve often joked that the only time I heard God mentioned in our home growing up was when it had a “damn” attached to it. They allowed us to go to church but I can’t remember seeing them in a church service more than once or twice. Dad had little time for religion or religious people. Yet he was instrumental in my own salvation. Here’s how. (1) Dad taught me to respect and respond to authority. He was a strict disciplinarian. (2) I didn’t want to become like my dad. So, when the Supreme Authority of the universe invited me into His grace through Jesus Christ, I responded in the affirmative. Dad had taught me to respect and respond to authority. Six years later I entered the ministry. I eventually developed into a very religious person and I don’t mean this in a good way.
One week while attending a Christian conference the Lord helped me understand the principle and the power of a negative focus. I had been so focused on not becoming like Dad that I became “just like” him. Oh, I didn’t smoke, drink or cuss. I didn’t have all of the same addictions. But, I was proud, boastful, opinionated, angry, controlling and at times controlled by my own “ghosts”. I had become like my dad. I needed to be forgiven and to forgive. And to top off the week, God impressed me to go home to Dad; not to confront him about the failures of his past but to ask his forgiveness! Honestly, I had already forgiven him for any real or imagined mistreatment in my past. It was time for me to ask his forgiveness. Here’s why. For many years, through my relationship with Jesus, I had the power to respond correctly to my dad and any perceived wrongs. I had not availed myself of His strength. I too was angry and bitter. I needed Dad to forgive me for my wrong responses. So I made a trip home to see him. It would be our third and final significant spiritual conversation. He forgave me.
A few years before Dad’s death I learned something I believe eased some of his pain. I’ve written about it previously. I learned Dad’s grandmother had been convicted of participating in the murder of his grandfather. Dad’s dad never really knew his father and was raised as an orphan. Maybe this knowledge helped him understand Gus Roberts, his dad, a little better. Maybe he knew that even though it did’nt excuse his dad’s misdeeds, it did help us to potentially understand them. Maybe.
For the last eight years of Dad’s life, he was as “sober as a judge”. In fact, he was a judge! I think Dad enjoyed those years and I know Mom did. He was eventually named Citizen of the Year in Krum, Texas and buried with honors in 1988.
Rest in Peace Dad. Your story will be told.
I share this because I can only share Dad’s story from my perspective. I need the reader to understand what this perspective is. I have the historical record. I have my memories. I have the relationship we shared. I don’t have the final say. I’m not the final judge. I’m someone who believes in bringing the past into the light to propel us into a better future. And dear grandchildren, never forget, I am the “teller of tales”.
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“What!” exclaimed the Ghost, “would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole train of years to wear it low upon my brow?”
Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend or any knowledge of having willfully “bonneted” the Spirit at any period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
“Your welfare!” said the Ghost.
(Charles Dickens from A Christmas Carol)
[i] My Journey: The Autobiography and Family History of David L. Roberts by David Lee Roberts. January 2015.
Merry Christmas to my gracious readers of this simple blog. I’m grateful and thankful for you!
BACKTRACKING THE COMMON 