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No mas

December 11th, 2013

Did you know that Roberto Duran claims he never said, “No mas!”?

I remember watching that fight. I remember Sugar Ray swinging the bolo punch, and knowing I’d probably fall for it, despite ample practice from my Papa Stan. I always end up looking at the distraction, the shiny thing, the new fancy.

I know I talked about grinchiness last blog post, but did you see my word play in saying “I need Christ-mas?”

I meant not only Christ’s Mass for the Eucharistic celebration associated with this time of year, where Christian’s partake in communion (what this Protestant grew up calling the consumption of the sacramental body and blood of Christ), but also how Roberto Duran meant it when he threw up his hands and stopped the fight. (They say it was from stomach cramps, but looking back, I think he just got tired of looking at Sugar Ray make silly faces…).

I need MORE Christ. In this season of celebration, whether it be of new moons, the turning of the season, the remembrance of a cold night in a full inn’s stable. I need to fill my life with more of Christ. His words, His love, His mercy and grace.

Last night, I paused. I stood looking at my house, my family room. Decorated for the season by Angie, and reveled in the feeling of security and care that her hard work left me with.

In the last month, the whole family has worked hard to transform a room. A room that had been dusty and discarded. A junk room that had no real purpose. A room where the dogs would go when it was raining outside, or we wouldn’t respond to their cues that it was time to make water, and use that room instead. It was a garbage dump, truly. We changed that, working together as a team, removing the junk, donating some, tossing more. We covered the drab walls with a fresh coat of paint. We removed the stained carpet and put down fresh hard floors. It is truly cleaned out. Ready to be lived in, and cared for.

Although I’ve been a confessing Christian for most of my 45 years, there are still rooms in my heart that are like that room used to be. Full of garbage and dust. Closed off. Shut down. Ignored. Not fit to be lived in.

Sometimes I open them up, and play in the dirt and grime. Then close up the door, still not willing to do the work of cleaning out the mess I’ve stored. The emotions I dare not expose, the darkness that needs the disinfectant of light and life.

I cannot do that alone. I need a helper, The Helper. I need to open the door to Christ’s love and let him help me empty those dark parts. Clean them out and let me live in them again.

So I say, “No mas!” to closed doors, to shame and grief. I say Christ-mas to the changes he needs to make in me.

Merry X-mas.

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