The first time I saw James Putt, applause greeted his million-dollar smile as he slowly stepped out of a bus. Dressed in his customary pajamas and bath robe, he laughingly acknowledged the well-wishers flocked around him.
The oxygen tank he pulled behind proved to be cumbersome, and his breaths were coming in gasps. So, I gently worked my way to him with a wheelchair and eased him into it. James didn’t know me from Adam’s house cat, but he made the correct assumption that I had been appointed as his “counselor.”
At this cancer survivors camp, counselor’s duties varied according to the needs of our “campers.” Basically, we were to care for and help our campers have fun. The weekend went quickly, as getting James where he wanted to be in a timely manner left little time for boredom.
As a hospice chaplain, I started to visit James on a regular basis, and we became fast friends. Health issues kept him from driving. So, I volunteered to haul him anywhere he wanted to go. With careful planning, we soon had a routine going that kept him stable.
Mr. Putt’s character
Like all of us, James hadn’t lived a sinless life, and he readily admitted that. But it didn’t take much hanging around him to see he had turned his back on all that and committed his life to Christ and his saving grace.
While poor health kept him from attending church, it didn’t stop his desire to understand God’s word. There were times when one of the other hospice chaplains or I couldn’t answer a question to his satisfaction. At that point, he would get on the phone to a huge worldwide ministry and run it by them until he had all the information he needed.
When preaching his funeral, I made the remark James likely would be found in heaven chasing the Apostle John around, asking him to explain the Book of Revelation. Make no mistake, James Putt sought the face of God.
This guy had friends everywhere, and it always brought a smile to my face to see how much joy everyone took in seeing him. I often took him to the grocery store. On those times I left him in the car, I would return to see a few people crowded around the passenger window talking to him.
Mr. Putt’s Christmas
Someone had the bright idea of planning a Christmas party without telling James about it. That way, he wouldn’t get his blood pressure up looking forward to it. The look on his face still warms my heart when, instead of just going out to eat, he rolled into a reserved room with about 30 people waiting to hug his neck.
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By the time Christmas day rolled around, James had accumulated a sizeable stack of gifts under his tree. This holiday scene, typical for James, reflected the love many felt for him.
After my sons made a shambles of our living room dividing up their loot, I got on the phone to wish James a Merry Christmas. After exchanging the usual holiday greetings, I asked how he felt and if he still had his pantry stocked.
He assured me he had plenty of everything but seemed more out of breath than usual. I detected a subtle sadness in his voice and became a little concerned the holiday pace had caused general fatigue mixed with a touch of depression.
Knowing he likely had no one else checking on him, I asked, “What’s going on?”
It turned out, he hadn’t talked to anyone else that morning. While chatting, I detected a heavy cloud of loneliness in his tone.
About that time, Jesus thumped me on the head and prompted me to ask if James wanted some help opening his presents. James’ voice perked up immediately at the prospect of having some company on Christmas. He all but shouted for us to head his way.
So, head his way we did. My boys made short work of unwrapping his gifts. This left James and his trusty Chihuahua, Chico, nothing more to do than to enjoy a little Christmas spirit.
The spirit of Christmas
By anyone’s standards I am blessed beyond measure at this time in my life. However, there have been several Christmas days with nothing but memories of disappointment and solitude. As is God’s habit, though, he took something bad and turned it into good.
My children never have known a sad Christmas. My wife and I always showered them—and now several grandchildren—with gifts and love, we and continue to do so to this day.
While making sure Jesus always loomed large in their lives, I also wanted my boys and grandchildren to understand Christmas is more about giving than receiving. I routinely include them in assisting those who likely would have nothing if not for their help.
Like with James Putt, things—in whatever form they come—mean little and hold our interest but a short while. What demonstrates the “spirit of Christmas” is the celebration of Christ’s birth while surrounded by loved ones and the time invested in the happiness of others.
Steve Carter has been in Christian ministry more than 50 years as a Sunday school teacher, youth ministry worker, musician, hospice chaplain and Mississippi State Guard chaplain. He lives in Tupelo, Miss., and can be emailed at msroadkill@bellsouth.net. The views expressed are those of the author.
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