Author: Mark Myers

I am a husband of one, father of four daughters, a dreamer, a builder, a believer, and most enjoyably a writer. In 2015, I became a reluctant Childhood Cancer Advocate as we lost our youngest daughter Kylie to the disease. Kylie taught me to steal joy from even the worst of circumstances and I will always be on the lookout for happiness among the thorns of life. Join me for a generous helping of laughter and tears.

Zoo Church

.Reading time 3 minutes.

Our family sometimes takes a sabbatical and enjoys church at the zoo. While we acknowledge the value of corporate worship, there’s nothing like a Sunday together amongst the beasties.

When we scheduled it for this coming Sunday, I decided that the thing missing from Zoo Church was the singing. So I informed my family that I intended to write a hymn for Zoo Church – which elicited their typical reaction to my proclamations: ridicule and scoffing.

The jokes on them! True to my word, I humbly submit the Zoo Church Anthem, wittingly entitled Zoo Church (alternative title: Where Penguins Waddle and Gorillas Pee). I’m looking for a composer to add the music to my lyrical genius, so if you know anybody.

There are many things you cannot learn
In a sanctuary filled with pews.
Some things can only be observed 
Where shiny, happy keepers shovel poo.
 
Rise and shine kids, it’s a beautiful day.
Wipe that gunk from your eyes.
Instead of wearing your finest clothes
Mom and dad have a special surprise.
 
Zoo Church, Zoo Church 
We’re headed out to Zoo Church
Noah knew there’s so much to see
Where the penguins waddle and gorillas pee
 
At Zoo Church we learn about friendship 
While the animals frolic happily.
As long as you don’t mix predator with prey
Because that would be bad (and possibly bloody.)

Mr. Tortoise bumps shells with his mate,
Cranes his neck and makes funny noises, too.
Mommy turns red, and daddy just laughs.
Sometimes it’s awkward when you go to the zoo.
But better friends could we ever find
Than the monkeys who sit in the grass.
They pick the fleas off their comrade’s back.
And even probe their buddie’s…      (backside).
            (with a stick no less, and yeah, they eat that too.)
Zoo Church, Zoo Church 
We’re headed out to Zoo Church
Noah knew there’s so much to see
Where the lions roar and elephants pee (a freakin’ river)
 
The children at Zoo Church often say strange things
like Uncle Eddie when he comes home drunk.
“Why are those lemurs wresting?” they say,
And “does that elephant have two trunks?”
Since Adam made up some jolly good names
Dad gets to speak without being crass.
There’s a hellbender, a dik-dik, and a naked mole rat,
But the best is the Somali Wild Ass.
                          Somali Wild Ass  (Sung in Queen-style harmony)
We’re going down to Zoo Church
To see the wild animals God made.
There’s so much to learn about nature and things
If you can overlook that they’re stuck in a cage.

Dear Santa, Thank You

.Reading time 5 minutes.

Dear Santa,

This isn’t your ordinary Christmas letter. I’m not sending a long list of gizmos and gadgets that will unfurl across the workshop floor. In fact, I’m pretty well set with stuff this year. I just wanted to say thank you.

I don’t really know when I stopped believing in you. I can’t recall a traumatic scene where I saw dad unloading presents under the tree and I certainly never saw you plant a kiss on mom – I can’t imagine the confusion that would have caused. No, mine is the garden variety of unbelief. Somewhere along the way, I guess I got too old, too mature. I wanted to be all grown up. Looking back, I think when it happened, I lost myself, not you.

I began chasing what I thought was important and neglecting what you stand for: consistency, generosity, peace, love, joy. You can’t blame me, I was young. I didn’t know. It’s what everyone else was doing. But regardless of what I believed, or where I was, you showed up – year after year like clockwork. You relentlessly pursued me despite my rejection.

I married a woman who never forgot. She tried to bring me back around when we were newlyweds but I only saw price tags and expenses through the lens of a limited budget. I didn’t get it. I couldn’t see… until children came. Through their innocent eyes, I found you again.

 

All the while I thought you were there for them, but you were gently bringing me back into the fold, too. There was always something in your bag for me. Even though I stayed in the back and watched from a distance, I loved every minute of it. You had some rough encounters with number three. Your beard was a little much for her. But you patiently waited until she understood.

Little number four loved you from the start. She loved everything about Christmas and nothing more than you, Santa. The elves you entrusted her with made December special for many years. She truly loved you.

 

 

I use the past tense because we lost her to cancer almost four years ago. I think you know that, Santa, but I’m not completely positive because you still visit her here. Still, you show up. When that first Christmas came around, I didn’t think I wanted to see you – all that you stand for had departed with her and you could only bring memories. Yet there you were in your frumpy red suit, spreading joy that admittedly felt somewhat fake at the time. But nevertheless, you were there.

These last four Decembers have been hard. But lately I’m figuring something out that I should have learned long ago: it’s not about me. Santa always gives and never takes. And when I set my heavy bag down to lay things out for someone else, my burden is lighter. In doing for others, I somehow find peace and joy for me. That’s kind of what you’re about, isn’t it Santa? How did I not see that before?

And this year, you asked if you could meet us early… just to say “hi” to one of your biggest fans. It was only a minute. But you’ll never know what it meant to me. It was a reprieve from everything I feel like she is missing. It was sweet, and it was special. It was Christmas.

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I realize that for the rest of my life, Christmas have a hard edge because it makes me miss little number four. But from now on, I want you with me, Santa.

 

Thank you, Santa.

Thank you for not giving up on this poor old fool. I know it took a long time, but I believe again. And this time it’s for good.

 

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