“Even though train fare was less than $30 to Webster City, Iowa, I didn't have enough money to pay my monthly room and board bill and buy a ticket.”
I'd never missed being home for Christmas. Even after I left for college, I still managed to get home. I didn't come home for gifts. I didn't come home to enjoy the decorations and special meals. I came home mostly for the fellowship of family and friends.
After college, I went to Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. The first year there, I managed to catch a ride home for the holidays. The second year was another story.
Even though train fare was less than $30 to Webster City, Iowa, I didn't have enough money to pay my monthly room and board bill and buy a ticket. My folks were in Iowa. My fiancé and future wife was in Iowa. There were lots of good reasons to go home, but there was no way in the world I could make it happen.
Christmas eve, I decided to go for a walk along famed Michigan Avenue right near Lake Michigan. It was a frightfully cold night and the wind, in spite of my scarves, gloves, and heavy coat, cut through me like a knife. My forehead literally ached from the cold wind.
As I walked, I observed last minute shoppers doing their thing in the fancy, expensive shops. The trees that lined Michigan Avenue were each covered with a net containing tiny little bulbs that flickered and flashed. It was a beautiful sight! The longer I walked and looked, the lonelier I got. I hadn't been able to find another student in my dorm with which to share the time. Some tears slipped out and froze to my cheeks. I guess I had legitimate reasons to feel sad, but part of it was certainly self-pity for my lonely circumstances.
When I'd walked several miles, I headed back to my empty, desolate dorm. I came down Clark Street. Clark Street is one of the streets in Chicago that has many homeless people trying to live in its nooks and crannies.
As I walked along, the old, decrepit buildings shielded me from some of the horrible winds. I saw a little light on the front porch of a very run down row house. As I came closer, I noticed that it was a cheaply made manger scene with a little candle inside. As I stood there, realizing that this little crèche was probably very costly to the poor family whose faces I could see pressed to the window, tears began to flow again. Here was the true spirit of Christmas — Christ.
I'll never forget that experience. It buoyed me beyond measure throughout the entire Christmas I spent away from family and friends. Now I can thank God for my loneliest Christmas! I've had many fun Christmases since, but none that have touched me like that one in Chicago.
Jerry Meyer AKA PapaJ, past away June 21, 2005. He got an early Christmas present. Miss you bunches, Jerry!—Grant