As I neared this beloved man's casket and approached his wife, I silently prayed for the right words, if there were any, to say. When she stretched out her arms for a tearful hug, I said the first thing that came to my heart. "I'll always remember him carrying all of us kids in the parade in that big white pickup truck of his ... and how he always took care of us." I just wanted her to know that he and his undying hometown spirit were part of a wonderful collection of memories for a lot of us who were lucky enough to grow up here.

Coincidentally, on this chilly December day, just across town, people were gathering to take their place in line for the annual Christmas parade. I questioned the appropriateness of leaving the funeral home and heading over to a celebration. It was bothersome knowing that at the funeral home they would probably hear the bands playing. Part of me wanted to go someplace very quiet and solemn and spend the day just thinking about my friend. It seemed like the right thing to do. To do that, however, would take away the opportunity for my young son to experience his very first Christmas parade and to "ooh and ahh" at all of the excitement.

We arrived across town (which only took a couple of minutes) just in time to claim an ideal spot on the side of the road. Just as we got our blanket spread, we looked up and saw the county fire engine slowly cruising towards us. My son's eyes widened with surprise as the sirens blared and the men inside waved and tossed candy right to him. Spectators on both sides of the road, bundled up in scarves and hats, watched joyfully as the Christmas season officially began for all of us.

I could see dads explaining to their kids how things "used to be."

Beautifully decorated floats with winter queens and their courts glided past us. Funny clowns, with homemade vehicles zigzagged and honked bicycle horns as they passed each bright-eyed child. Following one of the church floats, farmers drove vintage John Deere tractors past the newly renovated bank. I could see dads explaining to their kids how things "used to be." As the high school band marched passed, their bass drums pounding and their arms swinging within inches of us, I felt chills as I vividly remembered my days of being a part of that parade. Our friend whom we had lost was the dad of one of the football players for whom I cheered all through school. This husky, but gentle, man who loved the sport would lift each one of us up into the back of his big white Chevy pickup, all decked out with glittery signs and streamers. Our school was so small that all the football players and cheerleaders fit with room to spare. I'll never forget the elation of being a part of the story of our town even at an early age. (While I'm sure part of the elation came from the chill of winter, a much bigger part came from my incredible sense of pride at being a part of my town.)

My tiny son pointed at the youngest generation of Jr. Pro football players as they approached us. I couldn't control my tears as I thought about all the years that had flown by. I was thankful that I remembered to wear my sunglasses. I hid behind them and cried as I relished all the precious memories that were flooding my mind. The kids wished us a "Merry Christmas" and I answered back as best I could, while gathering up the candy that they sweetly tossed to my son.

At that moment, I realized that during this Christmas season God had given us a precious gift. The events of this day were no coincidence. Our memories of past years had come to life. This Christmas parade was the most appropriate, most fitting way to celebrate and honor our friend and all the friends who've come and gone on before us throughout the years. They have all been a beautiful part of the rich story of this little, "out of the way," country town in Tennessee of which I am so proud.

As precious as this day was, I think of the grandest of all parades that we look forward to in our future. Imagine the pride that we'll feel on that day, as we march behind a band of angels down the golden streets of heaven in celebration of the great victory and coming home party for the family of God.

 

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© 2003 Kelly Breece. From the Morning Cup Devotional, a weekly devotional for Christian women.

Title: "Our Small Town Parade"
Author: Kelly Breece
Publication Date: December 20, 2003

Just Like Jesus: Learning to Have a Heart Like His by Max Lucado In his best-selling book Just Like Jesus, Max Lucado explains that God loves you just the way you are ... but He refuses to leave you that way.

Kelly Breece lives in Hendersonville,Tn. with her husband, Michael, and their two children. She's worked in television production in Nashville for over 14 years. To read more articles like this, visit Our Morning Cup.

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