I climb a lot of ladders for my job. Kids must think it’s cool, because whenever they’re around, and I’m up on a roof-top, they point and stare. I usually ask their names, and then say “Nice to meet you, what’s my name?”
They giggle and say, “I don’t know.”
“My name’s Santa,” I tell them.
They giggle a little more, and before they can say anything, I say, “No, just kidding…BUT I do work for him.”
“Huh?” Wide eyes get wider.
“Yeah, I check out the best places for the reindeer to land and stuff so Santa doesn’t get hurt.”
I was reminded of this while pondering what I’d share with you today. You see, this week we’ve been honoring our parents. And Mrs. Claus is my mother-in-law, or at least I think she is. Or, maybe, she just works for him – Santa Claus; Papá Noel.
At eighty-five (she’ll be eighty-six Feb. 4th) she has limited mobility. She can use a walker for short distances, but other than that – she’s either in a wheel chair or her recliner-type chair that elevates at the seat, to help her get up. Her hands are starting to show signs of arthritis and her eye sight is growing dim, yet, even though her body is aging, she’s still a wide-eyed-child when it comes to her soul.
With over a hundred and some ought grand-kids she manages to keep track of them all. And all year she sits and knits, spins and weaves some kind of Christmas magic into hats and scarves and baby blankets. And somehow, at Christmas, without even leaving her chair, she manages to have gifts for everyone. She has spent more time making gifts for others than many folks have been alive. She MUST be Mrs. Claus – or related in some kind-of-way, right?
She watches, too. With dimming eyes and one finger at a time she taps at a lap top and – like a mother-hen – she watches her brood banter on face-book.
Although confined physically, she’s a world traveler in her soul. Sit by her side and she’ll take you places decades from here, with her stories. Like the first time she met the love of her life at Coney Island: Santa. No, just kidding – Henry Joseph DeVlaeminck. She’ll walk you through the depression and wade through life on a pig farm. You’ll ride her words to school with horse and sleigh. She’ll tell of the trials and laughter of raising fourteen children – the birth of some…and the loss of others.
With a twinkle in her eye and a never fading smile, she’ll tell of how she saw Jesus in a dream and how she prays for others.
Her house in nothing fancy, but her Home is a mansion. Each day her house fills with family, including ex-husbands, ex-wives, ex-this and ex-that, once in you're IN. I’ve said it’s easier to get out of the mob than out of this family. She’s soft spoken, just above a whisper, but she can move an army of adoring children with a simple word.
Maybe my mother-in-law isn’t related in any way to Santa. BUT – she IS related to the Greatest Gift Giver of all. And she works for Him. And, maybe her family isn’t anything like being in the mob with the Godfather and all that stuff. BUT – she is tight with God The Father.
And I am honored to share her with you today. Her kids call her Ma, but everyone else – whether related or not – calls her Gramma Mary. So, if you need a family, you can join ours.
Thanks for stopping by and as Gramma Mary would say; “Gramma misses you, come back and see me again.”
If you think you don’t have a family or a parent to honor…think again, you do.
Jesus asked; Who are My brothers and sisters and mother? And then answered; “But those who do the will of My Father.” Mark 3:35
Come…and be part of the family.~