Hi, I'm Robby Christmas ...

Yep, that's exactly what I said to her ... to Linda Christmas that is. The first Christmas I've ever met in my life that I'm not related to. Linda Christmas lives in Durham, NC and she wants a crepe myrtle planted in her front yard. Enter Wendell's Lawn Maintenance. Wendell is my employer ... but that's a whole nother blog (do you ever stick a word in the middle of a word? ... like "a whole nother" ... it's fun, you should try). Back to Linda, Linda Christmas that is. My last name is Christmas, so is Linda's. The thing is I've never met another Christmas face to face that I wasn't related to. So there I was, ready for an inspiring encounter with someone else who bears my name ... I was excited ... and curious. I don't know what it was exactly, I guess just the idea that there are other people who carry the name Christmas. What are they like? Do they carry it well? Do they have the same sense of privilege and responsibility that I feel when I think about my name, part of who I am.

So I introduce myself with a smile and anticipate ... (um, ok, I'm watching Trey right now ... and there's been some intestinal movement ... everybody sit tight, back in a minute ... ok, that was delightful). Needless to say, Linda was shocked. She was even more shocked when, at Wendell's request, I shared what my sister's name is (Mary for any readers unfamiliar with the fam). I was curious about our connections or similarities so I asked ... She was from Arizona, but married a Christmas who was from the Durham area, a Hell's Angel no less, with a cousin named Boogie Christmas. Ahhh, it was all coming together ... Christmas, angels, uh ... Boogie ?? (hell didn't seem to fit in anywhere though). Wendell, former Hell's Angel (again, need another blog), chimed in and they had a rousing conversation about the Hell's Angels, including history and cultural influence (laughing track). She went on to explain to us where she wanted her crepe myrtle to be planted, doubted that we could do it right, and then offered to show us some old gas tanks that can be converted into large grills great for pig pickins' (let's see ... pig pickin' ... Christmas ham? no, no connection).

As we walked back up the hill toward the truck something shifted weird in Wendell's stomach and there was an ill-sounding release of methane, loud enough to not play off. After about six seconds of him not admitting it, Linda Christmas called him on it and I thought to myself ... "where am I? is this real?" The experience was different than I anticipated, though I must say, in no way disappointing ... because I got it, I understood the connection. Even though she and her Hell's Angels husband probably didn't see the historical and eternal significance in the name Christmas, nor desire to live up to that significance (unless he really does personify the name and is doing incarnational missions work with the Hell's Angels ... it could happen) ... there was still a connection. We're both human, and in need of a Savior ... the One that came at Christmas. That event (that changed the course of human history), that Savior (who offers His grace to all) is what connects us. Christ came for Linda Christmas, and for Robby Christmas, and for the Hell's Angels ... that we may have life, and life abundant. God showed His grace at Christmas. I am no less in need of that grace than anyone else, no matter their background or way of life.