Blessings

Sometimes when I think of Christmas back when I was a youth, I think of the first Beatitude: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” It could be a cruel season when I was young, never worse than the day we each had to stand and tell our classmates in grade school what “Santa” brought us for Christmas.

There were lots of bikes. Some kids claimed roller skates, some electric trains. One kid got a new deer rifle.

There was a catch, though. I attended a school on the south of town where a bunch of rich kids lived. They also bussed kids there from out in the country. They didn’t get bicycles or deer rifles for Christmas.

The luckier one got clothes. Not fancy sweaters and such, but new blue jeans or socks.

Move down and notch they would start to mention fruit and nuts.

Then candy.

Once a kid just sat on his hands and cried.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

I’d like to believe that is true. It’s not, or so the modern TV evangelists say. They preach that you are rich because you are blessed and chosen. They include those who earned their riches by having the doctor slap them on their butt. In fact, they don't put many limitations on how the riches got there. I think the Galilean may have been talking about the child in the Arkansas Delta sitting on a cold, filthy floor with a bloated stomach and dirty diapers. Franklin Graham, from a warm room on a full stomach, is talking about the Trump kids.

Sometimes a person just doesn’t know whom to believe.

Nah. Just kidding. Merry Christmas.