As a young boy in Oklahoma I dreamt of meeting Santa as he wandered through my house on Christmas Eve. Once as I feigned sleep I saw Santa walk into my chilled bedroom, the heat barely reached my area from the floor furnace, his whiskers rubbed against my forehead. Of course he was checking to make certain I was asleep. As he crept out into the house I followed silently behind unnoticed. I was unnoticed until Santa dressed ducked behind the kitchen stove and I bolted back to my room afraid I had blown my chance for a pile of gifts. When I hit that bed my eyes slammed shut until the Oklahoma sunrise shook me awake. I ran into the living room and realized I had dodged a Santa bullet. I pledged never to pull a Christmas Eve stunt again. I have kept that promise to this day. I reflect to a childhood experience to place importance on the power of the human mind. Belief, my friends, is the operative word here. You have to believe without conditions as I did in Santa that night. Later in life my belief system was weak and being tested. I learned from a strange old man why I should care about anything. I learned why I must be compassionate,understanding and willing to be a giver. Let me really begin this Christmas story. I sat in the pew stage center about fifty feet from the pulpit where Sister Jean Bittle and her evangelist husband, Johnnie Glen Bittle were waiting out the music before they would commence to save souls. I was alone. I knew no one. My reason for showing up at the Deliverance Temple was simple. Every morning I would flip on 1320 AM to the rhythmic preaching of my two favorite radio preachers, Sister Jean and Johnnie Glenn. They talked directly to me. The message seemed as though it was written to address my sorry state of a life. No real job. I had been delivering Hostess Twinkie samples door to door until I was so distraught over what I was doing I just kept the final two cases of samples and instead of delivering I ate Twinkies night and day for three weeks. Needless to say Sister Jean reached through those radio waves and touched my heart. " Lay your hands on the radio set," Sister Jean would plead. "Well not if you're driving," Johnnie Glen would add. " Only put one hand on the radio and keep your eyes on the road." Sister Jean would calmly add", Please pray with us. Let us bring him into your life so you won't be delivering Twinkies door to door again, so you won't have to eat processed cheese and cabbage for dinner every night, so you won't have to drink Hanley's Beer from Pottsville, Pennsylvania sometimes called the worst beer in America." " Well you really shouldn't drink and alcoholic beverages at all," Johnnie Glenn would add. My God, I swear they were living my life. It was like they had been checking out my refrigerator. " Please safely pray with me," Sister Jean began her plea to God. You are asking by now" What's the point. Why are we reading about these people and Twinkies?" Allow me to continue. That day with both hands on the radio parked outside the Humpty Dumpty Grocery I knew it was time to see these two in the flesh. |
" Every Wednesday is Fellowship Night. Please visit the Deliverance Temple for our 'Save the Soul Wrapped Up Inside Your Sins" evening followed by refreshments furnished by the 'Dis and Dat' Fine Food Grocery' located at 21st and South Central Avenue in Oklahoma City." It was time to commit. Now to the evening. As I walked up to the Deliverance Temple front door a banner hung over head welcoming all the lost souls. Three men greeted each person as we walked into the foyer. The middle aged man with greasy hair who greeted me shook my hand hard and quick. His hand left a strong scent of dead skunk on my fingers. A smell that stayed with me all night. I was guided to the section for new Deliverance friends. We were handed a evening program that included a small prayer cloth, a coupon for twenty five cents off a package of Hostess Twinkies and a coupon to fill out with suggested prayer offerings of $25, $50 or more. On this night I sat next to a man. His had jet black hair. His head was bowed and I assumed he was in deep prayer. A noise came from him. As I was able to listen in between five people jumping up while speaking in tongues as they rushed to Sister Jean to be "saved" and the pleas for donations as regular as a clock every ten minutes the sounds coming from him sounded familiar. It was "Blue Christmas" by Elvis Presley. It was low and quiet but now unmistakable. "Reach out to him! He is right next to you and ready to accept you into his ever loving heart!" Sister Jean Bittle wailed with eyes looking toward the ceiling tiles of Heaven. He was humming "Silent Night", then during a quiet moment for us to reflect on our sinful lives he hummed " White Christmas". He never looked up. He continued with " I'll Be Home for Christmas", a song I sang once in a one act play by Robert Anderson, he followed that with " O' Little Town of Bethlehem" and before the final call for us to come down the aisle to dedicate our lives to "Him" he broke into a spirited " O' Come All Ye Faithful". First two from our section rose to walk the aisle, then four more and before long all but we two stood crying at the front/ All being preached to and counseled by Sister Jean, Johnnie Glen and the three deacons. The deacons whom were later introduced as the " Wise Brothers" a gospel group. The old man in the jet black hair continued with a soulful humming of the "First Noel". I had heard these songs in this order previously. If he hums "Winter Wonderland" and "Silver Bells" there could only be one conclusion to what I have experienced. He did and I knew I had just heard " Elvis Christmas Classics from 1982 hummed to me in church by an old man with long jet black hair. Once he finished the final notes of "Silver Bells" he turned slightly right looked up at me from the corner of his eye. "Son," he spoke low and quiet", Son, if you follow me I can give you that one thing you lack." " I'm happy," I said. " Just as I am..." the hymnal played loud as more people crowded the front of the auditorium. By this time almost every one up front was speaking in tongues which sounded strangely Russian with a dash of Esperanto thrown in for flavor. |
" "Son you're not happy. You're giving away Twinkies door to door." " How does everybody know about the cockle doodie Twinkies?" I almost spoke too loud in my amazement. " He finally lifted his head, looked me straight in the eye and said", I tell you something you need to know. You are a lot like me. Years ago I was stuck in a rut with no prospects as far as I knew. In a sense I was just like you watching television preachers, eating junk food in bed and checking for change in every coin return." This was getting weird. He stood. The gentleman was slightly bent but oddly handsome. I knew him from the past, but where in that jumbled past I could not pinpoint We walked back down the aisle through the foyer to the cold almost Christmas December. It was dark. A lonesome streetlight opened the night. He turned and placed his hand on my shoulder. Normally I would consider this behavior suspect. It was calming. " If you know the words and say them when times are tough or you need a lift or friend. They're good to you." "Words?" " There are many words you need to know. "Wise men said, "Only fools rush in". He spoke like a song. "Listen friend, this is getting spooky. All night you hummed a complete Elvis Christmas album and now you're quoting Elvis. This is odd." " Son, just because it's odd doesn't me it ain't normal." " I don't mean it to be rude I just..." He raised his right hand. I became quiet again. " Take my hand, take my whole life too." I'm going to give you something. This bag," he pulled a small bag from his pocket", contains the answer to some of life's issues." As he handed it over it dropped to the ground. I bent over to pick it up and when I stood back he was gone. No noise. No humming, goodbyes or bad cologne. Gone. I unfurled the paper bag. Inside was a sandwich. White bread, peanut butter, bananas and onion. There was a bite taken out of it. Inside a crumpled note. I'll have a blue Christmas without you I'll be so blue just thinking about you Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me. The note was signed simply, "E". As I stood under the streetlight the chatter of newly saved souls poured from the Deliverance Temple and I swear I could hear the sounds of " Burning Love" fade in the distance. The message was clear. I met an Elvis angel. The sandwich represented his life. I should share my life and my story as he did. The words calmed me before and will calm me again. When I am stressed I hum Elvis. I will encourage others to hum Elvis Presley and be happy. "E" will always be with me and I'll never be blue on Christmas again. The real meaning is in His sandwich, the peanut butter banana onion of life. Take a bite and pass it on. Thank you. Thank you very much. |
| A Very Special Christmas Story: How I Found the Real Meaning of Christmas by Roberto Sinatra Flame |
