Trains and Christmas tend to be twins in my life. As a child, once the Sears-Roebuck Christmas Book came, I would lie on the floor at our fireplace hours on end; dreaming over each page of electric trains and their accouterments. Yes, I know. It was a catalogue! But it was The Christmas Book, both in my vocabulary and in my heart. The section, usually worn out well before December 25, had pages (yes, plural) filled with elaborate, enticing, electric trains: Lionel, and American Flyer were leading contenders. The locomotives literally came with bells, whistles, and fake smoke; each picture a boy’s dream!
Not relating to Christmas, were visits to uncle Jule’s house in Oconee, GA. He lived near the Central of Georgia, Atlanta-to-Savannah railroad track, separated by a slim dirt street . As passenger and freight trains roared through town I could feel their vortex whooshing past—it was awesome! Uncle Jule made me stand inside his picket fence to watch, but I stood as close as possible. I loved those trains.
Years later, I got to know some railroad men, and sons and daughters of others; I listened closely to stories of joy, terror, laughter, and losses. Lately, I have managed to entice two of my friends to regale me with stories of their fathers’ train careers; one whose father managed a railroad station, the other’s father was locomotive engineer. Every time I cross a railroad track, thoughts of these men flash into my mind.
Two more train tales tie this together: One, The Polar Express —books and the movie; we watched The Polar Express every Christmas. It became our Christmas classic. In its own way it livened my love for trains . The story is fantasy, played out in all its fantastic glamor. A genuine “feel-good” Christmas tale.
The other, was of my 57th Christmas; Paige managed to conceal any hint of her gift to me. On Christmas, we opened gifts with typical excitement. Then there was the creme de la creme. She handed me this very large, unremarkable box. I tore off the Christmas paper; the picture on the box was convincing confidence of its contents—a complete Lionel electric train set. I gazed at it for a moment, looked up and proclaimed, “I’ve wanted one of these for fifty years!!!”
Surprise is stock-in-trade at Christmas. The Birth of Jesus was a surprise; it was also a differently expected event. Mary had been expecting this child for nine months. Differently expected—the Hebrew people had been expecting the Messiah for centuries. The surprise was multi-faceted. The King of the Jews was born humbly; to an unmarried, teenage, girl from an obscure village, giving birth—in a stable. God chose the incongruity of these circumstances; God’s way to introduce humanity to Divine Love, Agape, unconditional love….it baffles still, the wise and the wistful.