My brother Cornel and I were raised by a single mom. As a school teacher in the 1950s our mother found each new day full of financial troubles. At times we only had beans for supper; or bread and gravy; or beef stew without the beef. Every year our birthdays brought one gift: stick-on patches for the kneeholes in our bluejeans.

I can recall only one time that poverty frightened me. I am certain it happened around Christmas time. But I’m uncertain about my age. I might have been 6 or 7-years old; I don’t believe I had reached my 8th birthday. I was awakened by a loud knock on the door and an even louder man’s voice demanding money. I remember by mother crying and the man going away.

I was troubled and puzzled, but I never mentioned the incident to my mother. I didn’t want to embarrass her, I suppose. When I was older, I realized that my mother’s night had been ruined by a bill collector.

Except for that one night Cornel and I never thought of ourselves as poor, probably because our mother refused to call us poor… and all our friends treated us as equals. We were too busy with sports and weekend jobs to think of poverty. Give a boy a baseball glove and he has enough. The other kids can supply the ball and the bat.

Then there was another time. I am almost certain that I was 10-years old. I had finished unwrapping my gifts. With contributions from my grandparents, three uncles, one aunt and my mother I certainly had more gifts than I deserved. After the last package was opened I asked, Is that all?

I was immediately embarrassed and ashamed. No one scolded me. Silence speaks louder than words, at times. My grandfather was most assuredly disappointed with me; indeed all my family was. My mother was deeply wounded.

My response on that Christmas day 65-years ago continues to embarrass me. It embarrasses me so much that I was reluctant to write about it.

There are two points I want to make with this example. Although Cornel and I were poor we always enjoyed Christmas. Our grandparent’s home was full of family, love, laughter and peace. We always had more than enough… but the greatest of all the gifts was the gift of love, of course. And peace. When Cornel and I were with our grandparents we felt secure. A loving, secure family, and a home filled with laughter and gratitude for God’s gracious gift of Jesus Christ fills our hearts with merriness. That is all any of us need.

Here’s the second point I want to make: greed, jealousy, envy and selfishness will always ruin and wreck the joy of Christmas. The Prince of Darkness crawls around trying to steal our joy and even more so at Christmas when all his minions are released.

Warning: if you see someone with horns and a pitchfork it is not the devil. No. It’s simply a lost trick-or-treater. Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer and all the other fiends look terrific. The evil one is a lier who entices with wealth, power and beauty. If it seems too good to be true it’s probably the devil tempting us.

The Christmas season provides the absolute best time for greed, jealousy, envy and selfishness to raise their brutish heads. We must all be on the alert to squash those enticing inner and outer demons that can assault our Christmas joy.

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I wanted to write something about those of us who have lost a loved one, but this blog is already too long. (I worked hard to shorten it but it is still too long.)

Christmas may be the saddest day of the year for those without their dear ones. I have no platitudes that will take away your pain, but I will do my best to write some encouraging words for you next week.

Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. You are never alone.