Christmas on Bushnell Avenue, South Pasadena

Each year for the past decade or so, it has become a Christmas tradition for the homes on our street to light luminarias on Christmas Eve.

Although more recently seen as a form of secular Christmas decoration, the hope among many Christians, and in our home, is that these lights will guide the spirit of the Christ child to one's home.

And so, with the brilliant editorial help of younger daughter Heather, and the gorgeous composition and orchestration of John Williams, enjoy a moment on our street, our home base for the past 20 years.  May the spirit of the Christ child be with you each day of the New Year.

Downton Abbey and our Place in this World

Tonight marks the third season of the Downton Abbey series on PBS, and I am nearly beside my white, balding, middle-aged self with anticipation.

For those of you who have been living in a yurt in the Mojave desert for the past two years, Downton Abbey is a series of very well told fictional stories set at the beginning of the last century in Great Britain, filmed with great care and crafted with the highest excellence.  This is what story telling in film should be more about.

The series has generated critical acclaim, audience enthusiasm, and impressive ratings.  It has also garnered six Emmys and one Golden Globe, ending HBO’s dominance over the movies and miniseries category. Downton is ranked No. 3 in terms of overall audiences in all Masterpiece presentations since 1990, second only to The Buccaneers and Prime Suspect 2. It brought in a staggering average audience of 6.3 million viewers for its second season premiere on Jan. 8 and was the second-watched program at 9 p.m. on Super Bowl Sunday—a prime time coup for a period drama that airs on PBS, of all places.

This week, I caught a fascinating interview on NPR with the cast of Downton, and was struck by the thoughtfulness of Elizabeth Montgomery, who plays the role of Lady Grantham.  Here is the short transcript of the interview with NPR's David Green:

GREENE: I'm struck what you said right there. You said it's a world so different from our own world. I read something in the New York Times, a write-up describing things this way: "How perversely comforting to turn our attention to a world where you will die where you were born and where the heroes are the rare overachievers who work their way up to butler from footman." Why, Elizabeth, is this comforting, in some way, to, you know, people today?

MCGOVERN: I think because in today's world, we all live with the burden of feeling that anything is possible if we're only clever enough, smart enough, work hard enough, that we can achieve any fluctuation in rank in society, and that there is a small disappointment if, for whatever reason, you haven't managed to earn a fortune or succeed in some huge way that you thought you would as a young person. And, I mean, there's something, of course, marvelous about that. I mean, personally, I wouldn't change that for anything. I wouldn't go back to the old way. But I think there was a comfort for people, to a certain extent, in knowing this is their role. This is their place.

Imagine that; the "burden of feeling that anything is possible" if we're only clever enough, smart enough, or work hard enough".  As I listened to those words, I was struck that this is the problem that affects so many of us Americans.  After all, we won the Revolutionary War, settled our own Colonies, and then, to top it off we freed the slaves and won the West.  We can rise above our station in life.  Gosh darn it, we can do anything, right?

As life moves on, and I get a bit older, I am realizing that is not the way life works.  Many, if not most all of us, must at some point come to realize our station in life and learn to adapt to our surroundings.  No, you will not become the CEO of some multi-national corporation, nor will you end up winning the PGA Grand Slam - instead you must learn your purpose in middle management, and attempt to keep your golf handicap under 40.  Like those living downstairs at Gratham Manor, we must find purpose and meaning in the daily sacred of our little lives.

And Ms. McGovern's comment about "there was a comfort for people, to a certain extent, in knowing this is their role.  This is their place", struck me as well. 

Perhaps this is the reason I enjoy Downton Abbey so much - it points out the mystery of comfort in knowing your place in the world.  I think I might be still, in some small ways, struggling with accepting my place in the world.  While the plots often point out the hypocrisy of the upper class, they also speaks largely of deep character, dignity, selflessness and courage among all classes in society.  These are messages that will never grow tiring to me.

And so, tonight I will sit with my sweet wife of more than 24 years and enjoy a winter's eve hour of fine British drama, set in post World War II Great Britain.  Whilst watching the elegant costuming and pastoral English countryside, I will reflect on my station in life in this urban 21st century Southern California.  At evening's end, I will remember that tomorrow, as I rise and set out for work, I again have a chance to bring dignity, a bit of joy, and meaning to my workplace world.

And below, for you Mojave yurt dwellers, is a steroids version recap of Seasons 1 & 2 of Downton Abbey:

Watch Downton Abbey: Official Seasons 1 & 2 Recap on PBS. See more from Masterpiece.

Certain Things You Cannot Measure

I just stumbled upon this thoughtful article from an economist that reminds us why there are some things that are best left unmeasured.

On Being Santa

Santa with his most excellent helpers

This past weekend, I was gifted with the chance to become someone magical.  For two hours on a drizzly evening, I became Santa Claus.

With the aid of a big fluffy pillow around my middle, a bright and cheery costume from our Academy Award winning neighbor (Art Direction in 2010!), and three lovely female assistants (who happen to be related to me), I was magically transformed into a new man;  Pere Noel, Father Christmas, Sinter Klaas, Old Saint Nicholas.  Kris Kringle.

Santa awaits.

Apparently well liked.

The reason, you ask?  This was not a holiday meeting of sedate geriatrics, nor a collection of pre-schoolers, or a fund raiser for the Red Cross or the local Kiwanas club. 

I had been asked to become one of Santa's helpers for 50 or so rowdy, running-around, laughing, wild, awkward, noisy, wonderful and amazing middle school students.  This was the Christmas event for Young Life Wyldlife in our neighborhood.

To add more fun to the mix, a large quantity of artificial snow had been prepared.  I was seated in the midst of this classically Southern California winter scene, where I cheerfully greeted all the kids as they were lead to the tennis court to be surprised by Santa.

There is nothing quite like being center of attention in the midst of a tennis court full of middle schoolers.  These kids found the ultimate joy in dumping artificial semi-wet plastic snow on the head, into the mouth of, and down the flowing beard of Saint Nick.  Did I mention that artificial snow has all the taste appeal of microscopically shredded plastic trash bags?  Add to this the wonderful attic musty smell of artificial Santa beard sticking in your teeth.  One other item - it turns out the application of artificial plastic snow to a concrete tennis court surface yields the most slimy and slippery surface in the known world.  Santa is very lucky that he did not end up in traction.  It was all pure joy!
 
The highlight of the evening was when all the kids surrounded Santa's chair, depriving him of precious oxygen, in order to receive gifts and candy.  To say that this scene resembled pandemonium would be an understatement. 

However, in the midst of this raucous bunch was a lone 6th grade boy who managed to work his way to the front of the large crowd, in spite of his smaller stature.  Let's call him Jeff.  He had a gift for me I never expected.  Jeff was determined to be in the front row to greet Santa, as evidenced by his skill at elbowing his peers out of the way in order to get front and center with the Big Man (me).  Upon arrival about 18 inches in front of my face - he leaned in and announced, shouting with great passion, "I BELIEVE IN YOU!  NO MATTER WHAT ANYONE SAYS, I BELIEVE IN YOU, SANTA!!"

That is what Christmastide is all about.  It's what Young Life is all about.  Believing.  Believing in kids, no matter how loud and confused and awkward they may seem.  Young Life leaders try to listen to these kids, love them, and believe in them.  And in doing so, it our hope that these kids, the messy, noisy ones on that tennis court, will come to believe in a God who created them, and believes in their futures.  Each and every one.

Merry Christmas to all.  And to all a good night!