My 2 a.m. Epiphany


5500GYLRGA pity party is only enjoyed by the person throwing it.

Trust me. I know firsthand.

Twenty-two years ago, I threw one so amazing that I even served snacks. I had just graduated from college and was a custodian — and really really really felt sorry for myself.  I walked around with a black cloud over my head and had a copy of my diploma on my trash barrel.  One Sunday, the preacher changed my life by preaching on the Parable of the Talents. If you’re not familiar with Matthew 24:10-15, the story goes something like this:  A master left his talents (money) with three servants. One got five, one two and one one. The one with five invested wisely and doubled them. So did the one with two talents. But the one with one was afraid of losing his master’s precious talent and buried it. Soon, the master came home and was pleased with the first two servants. He was all grins and gave them even more talents. But when he got to the one who had buried his, he was mad as a rabid hornet. There was gnashing of teeth and all that great anger stuff.  It was one of the angrier moments in the New Testament.

That was me.  I was that guy. I was the servant  burying his “talent.”  And for whatever reason, I was afraid and not drawing.But as soon as I started using my gifts again, doors opened wide — and here I sit today.  In the two decades since, I have believed everyone must use the gifts given to them to the fullest.

Last night after 2 a.m., I had an epiphany.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t often have epiphanies. And I’m never up at 2 a.m. But for some reason it happened.  It may have because of a Christmas day filled with gluttony. It may because my mother is in the hospital again.  I’m not sure. But I saw a whole new meaning to what “talent” means.

Talent is the life given to us.

Some of us are given more life than others. And some do more with the life that’s given to them.  As I laid staring at the ceiling last night, I wondered — what if the master was mad because servant didn’t live his life to the fullest?  Did he waste the precious gift he had been given? Was the servant’s true sin fear?

I knew that talent wasn’t just money. But I thought maybe it isn’t just ability. Maybe it’s life itself.

A college professor told me once not to be a like a water bug, skimming over the surface of life.  I think about how many times I’ve been that water bug and taken the safe choice.  And how many times I’ve been the servant who’s afraid.

Sleep kissed me goodnight and I faded into restless dreams.  As my world faded into darkness, I vowed to make the most of the talents I’ve been given. Now it’s my daily prayer — I promise to my Master that I’ll live my life to the fullest.

And not to eat so much right before bedtime.

 

 

 

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25 Days of Banjo: Day 25

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25 Days of Banjo: Day 24

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2013 Christmas Cartoon

Every year, I do a Christmas scene from some place in Mississippi that has moved me in the previous year. The oak at the Overlook on the Trace at the Reservoir is one of my all-time favorite trees. I’ve recreated it. If you like it, plop your money down and buy a C-L tomorrow. Merry Christmas!

 

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25 Days of Banjo: Day 23

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25 Days of Banjo: Day 22

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Santa’s Gift

The real Santa and me.

The real Santa and me.

It was finally my turn to visit the mall Santa so I crawled into his lap. The old elf made a whimpering sound, kind of like a muffled dog toy as my 200 pounds crushed his arthritic knees.

“Here’s what I want for Christmas,” I announced grumpily.

I proudly handed him my wish list (written on a TGI Friday’s cocktail napkin.)  Santa adjusted his readers to read my hand-written scrawl. I know he was thinking, “OW.”

His pain mattered not to me, though. I was on a mission.

“Santa’s” nose twitched as he read my list.  A slight scowl wrinkled his brow, revealing his disapproval.

“Santa can’t hit someone in the knees with a lead pipe.”

I, of course, was very disappointed to hear this tragic news.

“And why not?”

“Not very Christmasy. And it violates the code of Good Will to Man. Santa can’t go around whacking people.”

Well that’s too bad, I thought. He’d be a perfect hit man. Stealthy. Access to the Naughty List. Worldwide travel. Elves to assist in the hit.

But I was getting nowhere and sighed. Maybe he’d warm up to the other things on my list.

“And no, and I’m not canceling Christmas because you think it’s a royal pain in the butt.”

He paraphrased the last word, I swear.  I had used something much more adult and strong. But Santa doesn’t cuss.

My shoulders slumped, “Well, um, what about the Krugerrands?”  I was hoping for some South African gold coins in my stocking.

Santa shook his head and then put his mitten on my shoulder.

“No Krugerrands, either.” Santa paused and asked a question that pierced my heart, “Not feeling very Christmasy this year?”

I nodded. Busted. Fatigue had been a Grinch in my heart’s Whoville.

Santa continued, ” It’s OK.  I know how you feel. We all get overwhelmed this time of year.”

“Can you bring me Christmas spirit this year?”

Like a Santa version of Glinda the good witch, he said, “Son, you’ve had it all along.”

I just stared at him, stunned at the simplicity of his answer.

Santa ignored my disbelieving face and continued,

“Find gratefulness for in your heart and you will find the Christmas spirit.”

I thought for a minute about his answer. Something rang true about his words. And at that point, I was willing to try anything. So began to list all the things I am grateful for:

My wife.

My boys.

My home.

My safe travels.

My book doing well.

My jobs.

My health.

A strange thing happened as I saw the good things in my life. The mall went from a gray/brown tint to technicolor. Sounds got sharper. Music sounded lovelier. I felt the first joy that I had felt in months.

He patted my back again and said, “Santa’s present to you is gratefulness.”

It was better than socks (although I kind of like socks.). I stood and shook his mitt. “Thanks, man!”

I felt a strange peace as I touched his hand and continued my thank you.  “Now where do I send the thank you note?”

Santa rubbed his hurting knee. “Just pass this message along to someone else.”

I took back my bitter list and said, “Done. But can I just have this person’s knee’s whacked?”

Santa shook his head as I walked away. “Coal for you Ramsey. Coal for you.”

I looked back at that man in the red suit. And for a brief moment, I knew he was the real Santa after all.

 

 

 

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Where to Buy Banjo’s Dream

Cover 2All books are signed. Stay tuned to twitter.com/marshallramsey for where I’ll be doing personalizations.

Jackson area:

Lemuria Books

Barnes & Noble Ridgeland

Interior Spaces (off I-55)

The Mississippi Crafts Center

Hollywood Feed

Mississippi Children’s Museum Gift Shop

Casa Bella Interiors (Old Fannin Road)

Online – Natchez:

Cover2Cover Books: http://c2cbooks.com

Hattiesburg:

Main Street Books

Vicksburg:

Lorelei Books

Greenwood: 

Turnrow Books

Cleveland: 

Cotton Row Bookstore.

Oxford: 

Square Books Junior

Tupelo

Reed’s Gum Tree Books

Barnes & Noble

Starkville

Book Mart & Cafe Downtown

Philadelphia

Kademi

How can I order it if I’m out of state or not in one of these towns? 

Try lemuriabooks.com or c2cbooks.com

 

 

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25 Days of Banjo: Day 20

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25 Days of Banjo: Day 19

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