Celebrating Christmas, Poppa Max Style

published in today's Abilene Families

As I consider the upcoming holidays, I would love to write an article about slowing down, enjoying this time of year, and remembering the reason for the season. The reality is that by the time this article is published I will be eating Tums as a regular meal, darting from one activity to another as a crazed woman with her hair aflame, and I will probably be on my way to a party that I resent needing to attend and coughing up money for a gift I didn’t exactly agree to give but am expected to contribute to. The rut is too deep, the habits too engrained, and I know myself too well. This will be a season of running and rushing and spending. So, instead of trying to take some things OUT of the season, I have decided to add TO the season.

As my family gathers this year for Christmas, one person will be noticeably absent. My grandfather, who we referred to as Poppa Max, finished his 90 years on this earth this year and is celebrating around the throne of Him whose birth we celebrate. My grandfather was a big man, in stature as well as personality. His absence this season will be tangible. So, to honor his memory, I have decided to add some things into my holiday season to make it Christmas, Poppa Max style:

Poppa Max meeting my Riley for the first time.

1. I will take an active part in spreading some of the magic of the holidays. Not only was my grandfather a physically large man, he had an enormous bass voice. As our family gathered on Christmas Eve, he would make phone calls to some of our pre-school aged friends as Santa Claus. Many were left in speechless wonder. Maybe I will jingle some of Santa’s bells outside a doubting child’s bedroom window; maybe I will give some of my younger friends reindeer food for them to sprinkle on their lawn on Christmas Eve; maybe I will help Santa respond to some of his mail. I will do something to spread the magic of this season this year.

2. I will remember Christmas for “the least of these”. Under my grandparent’s tree, there was always a gift for a Down’s Syndrome gentleman that is my parents’ age that attends the same church. Sometimes a record, sometimes a new coloring book, it was always a very tiny something to let Mitchell know there was a family that loved him. I will look around and see folks that others may not notice and just let them know that there is someone that loves them.

Poppa Max with my Ashley.

3. I will give and give some more. Giving was not a holiday exercise for my grandfather, it was his attitude and way of life. I will give in secret throughout the year – just a little secret between my Poppa Max and me.

4. I will laugh and laugh loudly. With his enormous voice, Poppa Max also had a grand laugh that filled the room. During the holiday season, it came quite easily, so tickled was he to be surrounded by family. I will put aside spending concerns and scheduling conundrums at least once a day to laugh with my family. I will let them know that my joy in their presence cannot be contained and I must laugh.

I think we all look back at folks who have made Christmas magical and special for us in the past and are no longer with us to celebrate. May you find something in those memories to share with others, spreading the magic and laughing all the way.

My sweet Poppa Max and me, at his 90th birthday party, months before he died.

(I originally wrote this in 2007, the first year we celebrated Christmas without Poppa Max. I still miss him terribly, and know that his laughter fills the birthday party for Jesus. It will be wonderful to see him again when it's my turn. Some other memories of my Poppa Max.)

Eighteen??

Today's the day!

Yes, it's a day of craziness and another day of sending Troy off to work at a job far away after he survived, nay, thoroughly enjoyed his first week. Add to it a birthday for a 13 year old complete with Harry Potter film fest, a basketball tournament and an out of town basketball game

and we are a family ON THE GO. Oh... of course today is Open House for the house, so I SHOULD be dusting, scrubbing, sweeping, mopping, straightening, or tossing something, but right now I have to pause to remember.

Eighteen years ago this morning I was waking up for the last time as a single woman. It was a muggy Louisiana morning (there are about 4 per year that aren't). I remember certain vivid details about my wedding day, few of them that you want to hear. I do remember my Poppa Max's booming voice as he prayed over us. I remember poor Roxanne, my maid of honor, had a sinus infection. It POURED on us after we left from our honeymoon. And I thought I loved Troy more than I ever would or could.

Eighteen years later I love him still and I love him more. I have made no secret of the fact that our marriage isn't perfect now and has had its share of trouble... which is why I love him so. We have both fought hard for what we have which makes it that much more precious.

Troy and I both are "out there" folks in our own way -- he is a networking/ making things happen guy, and I am the write about what has happened gal. God taught me years ago that my emotions and happiness don't depend on Troy (that is God's place in my life) but Troy very ably steps in and reminds me of my gifts, points out where I might best use them in God's kingdom, and when Satan tries to convince me it won't work or I can't do it, Troy points out the lie that is. The "being comfortable in my own skin" that has come with age has also come from being married to Troy. My skin is pretty comfortable next to him, too.

So, in the midst of this crazy day, happy anniversary to the love of my life. I hope we get way more than 18 more.

I thought this post, by Matt Hammit of Sanctus Real, was wonderful for today. If you haven't heard of his story, Matt's baby, Bowen, was born about 6 weeks ago with serious heart complications. Following surgery, several scary days, and a LONG stay in the NICU, Bowen FINALLY came home this week... one day before Matt had to leave for a show. He talks about his struggle to find that elusive balance we all look for.

Christmas, Poppa Max Style

As I consider the upcoming holidays, I would love to write an article about slowing down, enjoying this time of year, and remembering the reason for the season. The reality is that by the time this article is published I will be eating Tums as a regular meal, darting from one activity to another as a crazed woman with her hair aflame, and I will probably be on my way to a party that I resent needing to attend and coughing up money for a gift I didn’t exactly agree to give but am expected to contribute to. The rut is too deep, the habits too engrained, and I know myself too well. This will be a season of running and rushing and spending. So, instead of trying to take some things OUT of the season, I have decided to add TO the season.

As my family gathers this year for Christmas, there will be a very large hole. My grandfather, who we referred to as Poppa Max, finished his 90 years on this earth this year and is celebrating around the throne of Him whose birth we celebrate. My grandfather was a big man, in stature as well as personality. His absence this season will be tangible. So, to honor his memory, I have decided to add some things into my holiday season to make it Christmas, Poppa Max style:
1. I will take an active part in spreading some of the magic of the holidays. Not only was my grandfather a physically large man, he had an enormous bass voice. As our family gathered on Christmas Eve, he would make phone calls to some of our pre-school aged friends as Santa Claus. Many were left in speechless wonder. Maybe I will jingle some of Santa’s bells outside a doubting child’s bedroom window; maybe I will give some of my younger friends reindeer food for them to sprinkle on their lawn on Christmas Eve; maybe I will help Santa respond to some of his mail. I will do something to spread the magic of this season this year.
2. I will remember Christmas for “the least of these”. Under my grandparent’s tree, there was always a gift for a Down’s Syndrome gentleman that is my parents’ age that attends the same church. Sometimes a record, sometimes a new coloring book, it was always a very tiny something to let Mitchell know there was a family that loved him. I will look around and see folks that others may not notice and just let them know that there is someone that loves them.
3. I will give and give some more. Giving was not a holiday exercise for my grandfather, it was his attitude and way of life. I will give in secret throughout the year – just a little secret between my Poppa Max and me.
4. I will laugh and laugh loudly. With his enormous voice, Poppa Max also had a grand laugh that filled the room. During the holiday season, it came quite easily, so tickled was he to be surrounded by family. I will put aside spending concerns and scheduling conundrums at least once a day to laugh with my family. I will let them know that my joy in their presence cannot be contained and I must laugh.

I think we all look back at folks who have made Christmas magical and special for us in the past and are no longer with us to celebrate. May you find something in those memories to share with others, spreading the magic and laughing all the way.

(originally posted 12/18/07)

Christmas Memories

Last year when I wrote about celebrating Christmas in honor of my Poppa Max, who we lost in October of 2007, I mentioned his efforts to keep the magic of Christmas alive for little ones. The Christmas before that (2006), I was really stumped about what to give Poppa Max for Christmas. Here was a 90-year-old man, basically house-bound, and medication made it all but impossible for him to follow the plot of a movie or book. I did all I know to do: I wrote something for him -- I told him how much memories of Christmas with him meant to me.

Turns out that was Poppa Max's last Christmas this side of heaven. So when we cleaned out his office, I was given the framed essay back. I thought I had shared it here, but don't guess I have:

"As the only daughter of the only child of Max and Maxine Riley, I was never in need. Gifts and attention were both lavished on me to almost embarrassing proportions.

Of course, Christmas was no exception. In the weeks before the big day I would crawl around, through, over, and under the maze of gifts beneath Nonna and Poppa's tree -- but only after I had thoroughly exhausted all enjoyment from the Christmas tree box. Under the tree I would marvel at the growing number of gifts and check to be sure there were plenty for me.

Christmas Eve was most excruciating as Kevin and I pinballed around the house rushing the adults to finish making dinner, finish serving dinner, and then finish eating dinner. The huge pile of gifts had been relocated to under our tree and they were simply begging us to dive in!

One Christmas Eve -- too many ago to count -- Max had a great idea to help me while away the time after dinner. We called some tiny friends from church -- probably some faithful "customers' of Maxine's gum wallet -- and convinced them that Poppa's enormous bass voice could only be the voice of Santa Claus. Some of the children told "Santa" that, yes, they would go to bed on time, and of course they had been good all year. One little one was simply stunned into uncharacteristic silence, so her mother had to chime in, "Santa, Candace is nodding!"

I think we did that for at least two or three years. I don't know why we started or why we stopped, but that is still one of my most precious Christmas memories. I have very vague memories of a few of the many gifts through the years: a Barbie airplane, Merlin, some beanbag chairs -- all long gone. But I'll never forget when Poppa Max joined in and extended the magic of Christmas."

Memories of Poppa Max

I mentioned earlier that I have a list of memories of Poppa Max. This came about when an email from home in late August let me realize that I would not see my Poppa Max this side of heaven. Considering we had a long weekend, it would have been physically possible to go see him, but for a million different reasons, we chose not to.

Obviously, that was a difficult decision for me, and my very wise friend, Donna, encouraged me to spend the weekend resting from my week at school (that seemed to be the general consensus from my teacher friends!) and sharing memories of my Poppa Max with my children. What a great idea, and beautiful way to honor his life.

So I spent that weekend remembering Poppa Max (I haven't yet shared my memories with my kids -- they aren't sticking around a lot these days!) and smiling so much at what I remember. So, join me if you wish, in remembering my Poppa Max. Many of these memories include my grandmother, Maxine, of course. They were each other's lives for 54 years -- and 24 years of my life.

In no certain order, I remember:

• Wednesday night runs after church to the 7-11 down the street. Mom and dad would talk after church while we loaded up on one candy, one icee, and one comic book. I think, at the time, all of that was $1. AND there were small icees -- maybe 8-10 oz. Those don't exist anymore. We made the 7-11 run every Wednesday night until he had his heart attack in 1980? 1982? and was unable to come to church for a while.



• The ONE time I remember him being angry with me. (It was on Speed Ave. -- when did they move away?) I couldn't have been anymore than 4 or 5. I have NO idea what I did (I'm sure I was being a complete turkey) but I remember the tone of his voice and my heart being completely broken that I would make him angry. I only remember him angry one other time in my life -- and it was when someone had upset Maxine.



• INCESSANT whistling, humming, made-up lyrics singing, and change-jingling. It was so constant, I don't think it was nervous -- I think of it as happy noises. Though it did drive me cuckoo on more than one occasion.



• His booming bass voice singing in church while small children around us stared in open-mouthed amazement and my grandmother rolled her eyes and would lean to me and say, "He is SO loud." I'd trade anything in the world to hear him one more time.



• More singing -- few people are privileged enough to attend their grandfather's third wedding, but I did. And at the reception he all but took over the microphone and made it his own little karaoke -- when else can you do that but your third wedding when you're 84?



• Spending Christmas Eves together while he called "little friends" from church as Santa. "Have you been a good girl? Are you going to go to bed on time tonight?" Again, his tremendous bass voice was quite convincing.



• The thanksgiving not too terribly long ago that he spent playing hide and seek with the kids. Not his own kids, not even his own grandkids, or great grand-kids. They were my cousins (no blood relation to him) children and I, personally, was way too old to be playing hide-and-seek -- so HE really was.



• The way he kissed my grandmother 'hello' when he came in from playing golf -- which he did several times a week until his body made it too painful for him.
• Always a Christmas gift for Mitchell, a downs' syndrome gentleman at our church, under the tree.



• His prayer over me and my precious husband at our wedding (gracious, I'm going to cry now!) "This Troy, who has captured our young Sarah's heart..." sweet, sweet Max.



• The day he met my Riley for the first time. One of my favorite pictures of both of them.



• How much Ashley (same day) ADORED him and loved him as a playmate. (I'm pretty sure he's either whistling is singing, "Doody, doo-doo,..." in this picture).



• I remember few specific times since there were so many, but a "happy" (generous check) from him at just the right time. He is/was all about generosity. He worked hard to get where he is financially, but he has no qualms with sharing what God has blessed him with.

Last week as we remembered and celebrated his life, I learned some new stories and was reminded of old ones. The gentleman that led us in singing during the funeral led "Just a Closer Walk With Thee" and pointed out that it was one of my grandfather's favorites (I had forgotten that). He also mentioned that in Max's life, it was evident that he walked closely with Jesus on a regular basis, so we should all learn from the fact that his constant prayer was to continue walking closer and closer to Jesus. And now that his victory is won, he is walking side by side with Jesus.

What a blessing to have such a legacy in my family tree. I am blessed beyond measure.

Circle Up!

In the wee hours of this morning, resting peacefully with only a care nurse for company, my Poppa Max laughed out loud, then he was gone. I like to think that he laughed at the sight of my grandmother, Maxine, who was clapping her hands with glee as he joined her in the circle around the throne. I am so thankful he is finally pain free. I am so sad I will never hear his voice this side of the circle. He was quite a man. Poppa Max, grab Maxine's hand, twirl a dance, circle up and worship Him!

Online obituary.