Tearful Tradition

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A time to weep… Ecclesiastes 3:4

As many of you know, I’ve been using a crutch lately, trying to minimize the weight placed on a bad hip. (Said hip will be kicked off the island and replaced shortly after Christmas.)

More than once, as I was making my way through the house, a line from “A Cup of Christmas Tea” by Tom Hegg would pop into my head:

“The triple-beat of two feet and a crutch came down the hall…”

I hadn’t read or even thought about that poem in decades. I remembered the first time I’d heard it, a young lady had read it aloud at a Christmas luncheon. She’d gotten choked up, and I think the rest of us had been teary-eyed, too. It was one of those simple but touching stories that tug at the heartstrings. I’d loved the poem so much I’d bought multiple copies of the book and given them as Christmas presents that year.

The following year we’d moved from Michigan to St. Louis, and the following Christmas I’d shared it with the women’s group at my new church. I’d cried (again), and about 200 women had cried with me. When my smaller group of women had met the next week, the ladies had talked me into reading it again. Again, there’d been tears all around. (I remember thinking, This is ridiculous!)

So, now I was remembering the sweet poem about the young person who reluctantly goes to visit an elderly crippled great-aunt. Forty years ago, I’d identified with the young person. But now, I … didn’t.

The women’s gift exchange at my Louisville church was coming up, and frankly, I hadn’t planned to go. With the physical issues, I hadn’t had time to buy a gift, and being sugar-free and gluten-free, I doubted they’d be serving anything I could eat. Struggling just to get around, I figured I’d probably be too tired to go, anyway.

Friday night our grandson came to spend the night with “Nana and Beepaw.” When I was searching for some Christmas stories he and I could read together, to my surprise, there was not one, but three copies of “A Cup of Christmas Tea”!

(Was Someone trying to tell me something??)

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to share the beloved poem with my sisters at church, and every time I made “the triple beat of two feet and a crutch” coming down the hall, I felt more convicted about it. A couple of days later at church I spoke with Brittney, one of the ladies in charge of the gift exchange. I had the book with me, in case she’d like me to run it by her after service.

When offering to share the poem, I fully expected to hear, “How long is it?” and after telling her, to see that look on her face. (That strained look people get when they don’t want to hurt my feelings but clearly don’t want to go along with whatever idea I have.)

But Brittney said simply, “Sure! I think that would be nice!” Surprised, I asked if she’d like to hear it, just to make sure it was OK, but she said not necessary, she trusted me. I was stunned, but I guess I shouldn’t have been, after all the little signs I’d been getting.

So, now what had I gotten myself into? I needed to practice! I asked Mary Lynn, my 81-year-old friend across the street, if I could read it to her. She said, “Sure!” I went over, and we sat down amid the gift wrapping.

Well, not much had changed. I got choked up at the very same place, and so did Mary Lynn. Now she loves the poem as much as I do.

That night I hobbled into the gift exchange, barely on time. I had some misgivings, as I really didn’t want to cry in front of all the ladies at this church now! But I knew obeying God was more important than preserving my dignity, and if the Lord wanted tears to be part of the presentation, I wasn’t going to be able to stop them anyway, so I figured I might as well not fret over it.

Brittney got the ladies’ attention, and they quieted down. She announced that I’d be sharing a poem, but then realized I’d need a stool to sit on. While she was getting the stool, the ladies went back to their talking. I could feel the awkwardness closing in.

But the moment I opened the book, to my surprise, I had their full attention. I gave it my all, drawing on my college theater experience. As usual, I got choked up at that same part again (Geez, Ann!), and when I looked up, the ladies were still paying attention, but this time I wasn’t seeing any tears. I wondered if this generation just had a different mindset from mine forty years ago.

Next, we played a game and the wrapped gifts changed hands, I was feeling more awkward by the minute, recalling that I had brought a copy of the book for my gift. I watched it go around, praying that whoever got it would be OK with it. At one point the lady holding it was told to open it, and she seemed delighted with it! But then the game continued, and the gifts continued getting passed around.

At the end of the evening, I spotted Brittney and our eyes met. Grinning, she held up the book and said, “I traded gifts, so I could have this one.” I was relieved that my treasure was going home with someone who would value it. But what she said next was for me the highlight of the evening.

“We talked it over, and we want to make this poem an annual tradition.”

Prayer: Lord Jesus, whatever the stage, You are, always have been, and always will be my Director. Help me to follow Your directions, even the ones I don’t understand or necessarily feel like following. Let my obedience be Your birthday present. Amen.

P. S. The next day, Brittney texted me a picture of her mother reading “A Cup of Christmas Tea” to her little girls, telling me they love it. ❤

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Published by seekingdivineperspective

I am a forgiven sinner and adopted child of God, seeking to see life from His perspective - as opposed to the world's flawed perspective - and living my life accordingly.

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21 thoughts on “Tearful Tradition”

  1. Oh, Annie… this is wonderful. I didn’t know about your hip replacement. I will be praying. A couple of years ago I was told that I should have my right shoulder replaced, and last week I was told that my knees need to be replaced. I have been hobbling around on a crutch lately, thanks to my bad knees. I have been doing daily physical therapy exercises to strengthen the muscles around my deteriorated joints. The exercises have alleviated the pain so much, that I am hoping to get by without needing surgery. We shall see.

    Yesterday I wrote a poem about how I feel now that I am 70 and my body is falling apart. The poem is a bit long, but if you don’t mind, I will post it in a comment here.

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    1. Exercise did wonders for my knees, Linda. I was told over 20 years ago, when I could barely walk, that I would have to have both knees replaced within 5 years. (One knee was “bone-on-bone.”) On the advice of a friend, I cut sugar out of my diet, which helped hugely for many years. Last summer we did a lot of bike riding, and lately my knees have had no pain. (!) Marty suggested that the muscles supporting them were acting as a brace. I hope your knees continue to improve. Keep up the therapy.👍
      (I used to wonder what old people did all day. Now I know – they do physical therapy.🙄)

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      1. Like you, my diet is gluten free. I also have iron overload Hereditary Hemochromatosis, so my diet is very low in iron. But… I am a sugar-aholic. Hmmm, maybe I need to try going off the sweets. Oh…. Prayers, Please!!

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  2. The Old Woman in the Mirror
    by Linda Lee @Lady Quixote
    21 December 2023

    Just a few years ago
    the mirror was my friend
    a swipe of eyeliner
    a touch of mascara
    a dab of lipstick
    a puff of powder
    brush out my hair
    and I was good to go

    But I am seventy now
    and in the mirror I see
    crisscrossing lines
    wrinkles on top of wrinkles
    misshapen cheeks
    fallen eyelids
    sparse, unruly eyebrows
    and gray, thinning eyelashes

    I see an old woman
    no longer pretty
    Is that unfamiliar image
    in the mirror
    really me?

    My loving husband assures me
    that he still sees my inner beauty
    But inwardly I feel ashamed
    lost and confused
    broken down
    unsure of who I am

    Arthritis has gnarled my knuckles
    disjointed my joints
    my right shoulder needs to be replaced
    as do both of my knees
    Who am I now
    I inwardly cry
    Then I hear
    my heart’s reply

    I am a child of God
    and I am loved
    by God, my husband
    my children and grandchildren
    and our sweet rescue dogs
    My heart also loves God
    and I love my husband
    my children and grandchildren
    and our fur babies
    I love my friends, too
    and my friends love me

    Today I will focus
    on the love in my life
    and not on a reflection
    in a mirror.

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    1. Linda, that’s beautiful. You describe it so well. I am dealing with the same issues. It just seems to have happened so quickly. Six months ago I was hiking, biking, and kayaking with my husband, and younger people were marveling at us. I guess my ego (and my priorities) needed a reality check. 🙄

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  4. You’re courage and perseverance are impressive. After you get a new hip, I’ll venture a guess that you’ll feel young again. Thank you for posting about your touching experience sharing “A Cup of Christmas Tea.” God bless you and Merry Christmas!

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  11. Thankful you listened to the Spirit’s prompting and read the poem to those ladies. I of course had to go and look up the poem and read it myself just now, very heartwarming. Reminded me of my grandma visiting with my husband yesterday when we went to the nursing home to see her. He had managed to avoid visiting her there for nearly two years (much of the same reason as the poet penned)…but oh boy did it bring great joy to my grandma and though it was hard for my husband to see her in her ever ailing state (even a recent surgery from a broken hip of all things), I know it meant a lot for him to witness her so excited to visit with him.
    …Now I’ll be forwarding the poem to my husband, I’m sure it’ll pull heartstrings after yesterday.

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