February 25: Handsome Family, Daughter's Poem, Ashes

They was nothing of high mark in this.  They were not a handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely did, the inside of pawnbroker's.  But, they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's torch at parting.  Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last.

The Cratchits are not the Brady kids.  Bob is not an architect, and Mrs. Cratchit does not sing like Florence Henderson.  Nope.  As the passage above says, the Cratchits are not a handsome family.  The quality that distinguishes them is their happiness.  Despite the fact that they are living in poverty, the Cratchits exude their love for each other and their satisfaction with the world.  I'm sure they would be more comfortable if they lived in a bigger house and had a huge Christmas feast, but they wouldn't be happier.  Their happiness is not dependent upon material things.

I think the world would be a much better place if everyone could be more like the Cratchits.  Unfortunately, I'm just as guilty as everyone else when it comes to pinning my happiness on a better job, more money, a bigger house, the Pulitzer Prize, the Nobel Prize.  (OK, maybe I'm a little different than other people, but not by much.)  But then I'm reminded every once in a while of what happiness is all about.

On Ash Wednesday, I was running around the church, practicing with the choir, practicing with another musician, making sure everything was prepared for the worship service.  When I got back to my seat in the pew, there was a little , heart-shaped piece of paper sitting on my coat.  On it, my daughter had written this poem:

I will love U
forever and why
I love you as big as the sky
I will stop never, I'll love you forever
And will never stop
when I die

Well, that was it.  I lost it.  I was sitting in the front pew, crying my eyes out.  The whole Ash Wednesday service became even more meaningful to me because of my daughter's simple message of love.

And really, it is that simple.  I don't need a better job or more money or a mansion or a bestselling book.  Don't get me wrong.  All of those things would be nice to have.  But I already have what I need to be happy.  My daughter.  My wife.  My son.  We might not be a "handsome family" (although my kids are pretty good looking, if I do say so myself).  But, when we're together, we're happy, grateful, content in each other.  That's the true gift of happiness.

Saint Marty learned a mighty lesson of love and happiness this Ash Wednesday.

Confessions of Saint Marty