It's amazing how you learn about things. I never knew what a Burberry
was until I read a Margaret Truman novel. I guess some of you might be
wondering what the heck does Burberry or Margaret Truman have to do
with this season. Well not much, other than they remind me of a time
past. That's what Christmas generally does for all of us.
This time reminds me of a time when I didn't have a Burberry, and a
time I didn't know a friend of mine who now does. It's moments in time
that connect us. It's like the time we woke up one Christmas thinking
that there wasn't going to be Christmas at our house, and Christ found
a way into other people's hearts via a neighborhood church, or a Grinch
who chose to give it back. Christmas is always going to be there, you
just have to reach out and find it. And once you do, share it.
Christmas for me has not always been the happiest of times. My mom and
dad separated before I was born. So I grew up as the bright-eyed young
boy looking for light regardless of whatever darkness the world might
send my way. It's amazing how indulgence the unindulged are. Though
there were some sad days after I grew up, I still think the first
Christmas my father didn't show up was my saddest. I remember standing
at the window for hours, looking out into the night, hoping against
hope one of the beacons splitting the darkness would be my dad.
The terrible thing about that evening is how my aunt and uncle must
have felt. They knew deep inside as anyone who cares for anyone what I
must have been going through. They couldn't bear the brunt of my pain,
because I wouldn't let them. They wouldn't deny the hope that maybe I
was right and they were wrong. It wasn't good for them either. But they
endured, and I did too.
Years later, as I laid in my Murphy bed in my efficiency apartment one
Christmas day, I would think about how I wished at least I would've let
them comfort me. That Christmas, I didn't get out of bed. Not because I
couldn't but because I wouldn't. I wanted to wallow in the same
self-pity I'd wallowed in as an 8-year-old. It was shameful. I
neglected the love and care I had when I was small, and again, if I'd
looked, I'm sure there were others who loved me, just as Christ
promised he wouldn't forsake me.
So as I aged, I promised I would find something to be happy about
during this season. Regardless if it's my wife's somewhat seasonal
depressions, or the lack of thankfulness my son have not learned to
appreciate having their mom and dad together. I've learned to discover
love in places where God always provides---at home. Regardless of where
that home might be, and for me, as I write this, I think about my
friend who because he met me, owns a something I had, a similar coat.
So as you approach this season, I want you men, particularly you dads,
to find time to be with your sons and daughters. Many men, like my dad,
for whatever reason, are separated from their children. For many, it's
their choice. No mom would deny a genuine effort to stop by, say hello.
Believe me, dads, your kids won't cherish toys as much as the memory
you give them by letting them know they matter.
All I wanted, that Christmas, years ago was to know I mattered. It was
not until I'd grown up, I learned all of us have a choice in the books
we read, the clothes we buy, or to bring sunlight to people. God gave
all of us this gift. Decide now dads; your gift to your kids is a good
‘past', so years from now they won't be saddened by the memory of
another broken promise. Teach them what they already have, even if it's
not a Burberry.
Thanks Bill.
Archie Wortham lives with his wife, Suzan of 23 years, and their two
sons Myles (12), and Jeremy (16) in Universal City, Texas, a suburb of
San Antonio. Retired from the military in 1996, for nine years he wrote
a dad's column originally called "Jeremy's Dad," then called
"Jeremyles' Dad," named after both his sons. He now writes a column in
San Antonio called "Men 2 Fathers." Archie also maintains the Fatherhood site,
you may contact him by email at
