Finally, I was all by myself. About 150 miles up I-71 was home. Everyone would
be in bed by now, and deep into heavy sleep by the time I pulled in the driveway.
Everyone, but Mom. She said she’d leave the front porch light on. That
also meant she’d be doing one of those things that only a mother can do.
It’s a combination of sleeping, listening, and praying. The sleeping part
wasn’t very effective but the rest was irreplaceable. That’s what
you do when you have your college boy out on the highway on a bitter winter night
making his way home for Christmas.
I got out of my last exam around 2:30. I’d packed the car that morning--a
couple of pillowcases of dirty clothes and some snack food. Four other students
had bummed a ride with me. By the time we were all ready to go it was 4:30 in
the afternoon. I had been lightening the load along the way. One had been dropped
off in northern Tennessee, two in Kentucky, and the last at a truck stop outside
of Cincinnati.
That’s where I had topped my tanks and caught my breath. In my blue-collar
mind there are few things that compare to a crowded truck stop on a snowy night…
clattering dishes,
animation of short-order cooks,
banter of long-haul truckers,
biting cold that blows across your shoulders
every time someone slips in or
slips out,
husky-voiced waitresses with a pot of the
finest coffee on the freeway
…it’s on par with tea at the Ritz to me. My last "charge" was
a girl who sang off key to the radio. Her dad had treated me to a piece of apple
pie, coffee, and some advice. The advice had something to do with staying the
night at their place and finishing my trip in the morning with some rest and
daylight on my side. Looking back, his was a voice of prudence. But it was Christmas,
my family was on up the road, and there was a front porch light burning in the
night just for me.
There aren’t many things that can pull a soul through the night like
Christmas. It draws folks through train stations, airports, and rest stops all
over the world. It brings longing hearts back to the hearth long enough to put
some meaning back into their busy lives. And I was no different. I needed to
slip back into the context that had defined me from the beginning. I needed to
be around the people who had given me life and given my life's purpose—at
least long enough to get my bearings and remind myself who I was. Christmas can
do that to you, even when you don’t notice it happening.
That need for the touch of Christmas drew me down the onramp and on into the
night.
It kept my awake when the inside of the car
got too hot and all my fatigue
rushed on me at once.
It kept me company when I couldn’t find
a decent station on my radio.
It kept me alert when the snow got heavy
enough to accumulate on the road,
and
It kept me focused when I hit
an occasional patch of ice.
My ride through the darkness was a small sacrifice for what I was getting
in return. I had a family waiting for me to join them in celebrating the birth
of a Savior. The sheer power of an event so long ago helped me close the gap
between my car and a front porch light. It slipped me past eighteen-wheelers,
snow plows, and other night riders. Some of them, like me, had a front porch
light glowing for them too. Too many were just riding out the darkness. They
were the ones who either hadn’t heard, or hadn’t figured out what
Christmas was all about.
For so many of them, Christmas was a department store Santa, too much eggnog,
and a huge January Visa bill. For them, the night was too much of an illustration
of their life. It was unfortunate, because the hope and the home that was waiting
for me was waiting for them too. They just didn’t know it.
They may have heard the story, but just hadn’t figured out the punch
line. If Christmas is anything, it’s summarized in lights. It’s about
a simple lamp, lit by an anxious husband so he could watch his young bride assist
the God of Creation incarnating in a stable. It’s about a mighty light
that pierced the darkness surrounding some tired shepherds in bad need of some
good news. It’s about brilliant mathematicians who followed a light to
the threshold of hope so they could worship the omniscient child.
Isaiah said it as well as it can be said:
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who
dwelt in the land of the shadow of death upon them a light has shined…for
unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon
His shoulder, and His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting
Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of His government and peace there shall
be no end." (Isaiah 9:2, 6-7)
It was about 3:30 in the morning when I pulled off the freeway and made the
last few miles to that front porch light. Everything was just the way it was
supposed to be. That’s the power of Christmas.
Several dozen Christmases have come and gone since then. I’ve covered
many more miles, and I’ve passed a lot of folks along the way. Every chance
I’ve gotten to chat with them on their journey, I’ve tried to tell
them of the gift that the baby in the manger left for them. It took Him 33 years
to wrap it, and nail scarred hands to deliver it. But it was worth the wait.
He slipped through an empty tomb and went on ahead to prepare a place for us.
We may have miles to go before we get home. We may have some lonely road, and
some nasty weather to endure. But for those willing to put their confidence in
His work and His Word, there’s a light burning on the front porch of Heaven
just for them.
From the six Kimmels: Tim, Darcy, Karis, Cody, Shiloh, and Colton. Merry
Christmas and may the Savior’s light illuminate your path as you move into
the new millenium.
