This is an iHeart podcast. Guaranteed human. Hear that? That's what it sounds like when you plant more trees than you harvest. Work done by thousands of working forest professionals like Adam, a district forest manager who works to protect our forests from fires.
Keeping the forest fire-resistant synonymous with keeping the forest healthy, and we do that through planting more than we harvest and mitigate those risks through active management. It's a long-term commitment. Visit WorkingForestsInitiative.com to learn more. This is Sophie Cunningham from Show Me Something. Do you know the symptoms of moderate to severe obstructive sleep apnea or OSA in adults with obesity?
They may be happening to you without you knowing. If anyone has ever said you snored loudly or if you spend your days fighting off excessive tiredness, irritability, and concentration issues, it may be due to OSA. OSA is a serious condition where your airway partially or completely collapses during sleep, which may cause breathing interruptions and oxygen deprivation. Learn more at don't sleep on osa.com. This information is provided by Lilly, a medicine company.
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This is Our American Stories, and we love our listeners' stories. And by the way, send them to ouramericanstories.com. because they are indeed some of our favorites and they're some of your favorites too. Jim Johnson is a longtime pastor who lives in Rogers, Minnesota. Pastor Jim's heart-moving story, Everett's Last Christmas Carol, needed a follow-up.
Here he is again, Jim Johnson, this time with the Christmas tree story. Hey, have you ever had bad luck with Christmas trees? Me too. I have conflicts with holiday evergreens. If I were in a recovery group, and I probably should be, I would say it this way.
Hi, I'm Jim. and I have issues with Christmas trees. I mean, I'm a Minnesota guy, a holly-jolly father and grandfather. Big time lover of Christmas, a heavy-hitting broker of holiday cheer, and possibly one of the biggest fans of Yuletide Carols in America. Christmas trees have generally gotten the best of me.
Here's part of my confession. I once stuffed ten Ponderosa pines into a fifteen passenger Dodge van on a warm day in Santa Paula, California, for a day of services in a barn. We drove forty minutes with those trees sweating bullets and our van chugging home slowly. through Ventura and Oxnard and into Camarillo down the one oh one. It was fully illegal, I'm sure, but I did it for the Christmas trees.
Confession number two. I once also procured one of the last two trees remaining in a northern Minnesota grocery store parking lot at dusk on Christmas Eve. There were exactly two trees left in the parking lot, and I purchased the ugliest, paltriest, weakest excuse for a tree But My biggest misstep with fresh cut evergreen Christmas trees. is what I want to tell you about today. It was something that occurred before all nine of my children, and my wife, and before God.
very likely also before a representation of the heavenly host, And I was forever changed. and I want to admit it publicly before you to day. I heard the unmistakable sound of hissing directed at me personally. during a festive holiday about the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. It all came to a head at a tree farm near Elk River, Minnesota, fifteen years ago exactly this month.
On a below-zero day in December in sub-zero temps. car exhaust fumes creating a gaseous image of heavenly clouds, surrounding all of my children and at least twenty other witnesses, along with my Christmas bride Linda, a radical Christian partisan who does not miss a thing, standing there and shaking their heads. and this year at the same farm, in front of that same Christmas beauty, and that the three youngest of the nine children, all of them now teenagers, I finally came to a point of sweet redemption. with a quadruple victory, two balsam furs, a pair of mittens, A spendy Christmas wreath. And a cup of hot chocolate, and that's what I want to tell you about today.
But first, I'd like to start at the top. I am an ordained Lutheran pastor, and pastors, I must say, in general, make fairly shaky humans sometimes. They think too much, they worry about everything. They stop living in the moment. Stop praying and they get so overwrought with responsibility.
they forget how to laugh and ride the waves. As far as I have researched it, and I have researched it well. pastures are almost always completely human. decidedly, painfully. inherently human.
and even if they are transformed by the Gospel of Jesus, and called by God to serve the Lord and to love their neighbours, and though they are surrounded by teams of lovely people, These pastors, priests, and ministers have deep and abiding flaws, even the best of them, especially the best of them. and particularly in the month of December.
So, when it comes to the holidays, the very people who spend their Novembers and Decembers thinking about how to make a perfect Christmas service. How to connect with a world that lays long in sin and error pining, like the Carol says. how to tell the story of the baby Jesus and the long suffering Mary, the mother of Jesus, treasuring these things in her heart. and the self sacrificing carpenter Joseph, How is he, a simple carpenter, supposed to raise a king? and the wise men from the East Bearing gifts they traversed afar, and the excitable a little rough around the edge as shepherds, And the heavenly host standing around the shepherds out in their fields with the angels singing glory to God in the highest.
And on earth. peace, good will toward men. But how is that supposed to work when you're a stressed out dad? and the Low Wick pastor. Remember the part of the Christmas carol Silent Night?
That is what I am shooting for. You know, all is calm, all is bright. round yon virgin, mother and child. holy infant so tender and mild And then that sleep in heavenly peace.
Well, you know, that's exactly what I want at Christmas: sleeping in heavenly peace. Isn't that what you want? When it's mid-December and you're at the end of your proverbial rope, Worn and wearied by the meetups, concerts, visitations, advent services, kids' programs, gifts exchanges. Low budget shopping breakaways, senior care scrambles, and extra gospel preaching preparations. You don't feel like singing Oh, how beautiful the sky Is With the sparkling stars on high You know that one?
How they glitter, brightly gleaming, How they twinkle, gladsome, beaming No, you don't want that. You're saying that's not me right now. You want to skip December twenty fourth through January first. You feel like Hey, let's go to Alta and Snowbird instead. You feel like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh or Ebenezer Scrooge.
disguised as a spiritual clergy. trying to put on a good face. Because you know when you're down and out, And it's COVID season And the government limitations are such that they don't want you to stand by his cradle. They want you to give a little elbow room to the cradle. That the wise men from the East shouldn't be traveling from the Orient land.
They should be staying home for a four week pause. You feel like you're bent and like me going every which way but loose. They should have stayed home because the king thus lays in a lowly manger and we don't want those hard time families at the Nativity stable to catch the virus.
So parents and pastors Want to provide something sweet, something good.
Something from God. When times are hard and even more when it's Bad.
So that led me to my Christmas tree crisis number one. We were serving in a church in glacial northern Minnesota near Foston. population 1800. in the bone chilling hinterlands near Bemidji, When I was in my early thirties, a brand new young pastor, and we were short of cash, and when sweet Linda and the three little daughters were negotiating for a big time live green Christmas tree cut from the woods, I talked him into delaying the process until I had a little bit of more money. God is my witness.
I I admit this openly. I was dumb enough to talk them into delaying the decision of cutting down a tree until the day of the Christmas Eve service. I said, Hey, kids, let's do it the way the song puts it, you know, on the twelve days of Christmas. We'll start celebrating on the first day, Christmas Eve, and we'll end on January sixth or so. We'll get the full twelve days.
We'll cut down the tree on December 24th, decorate it after church, hang the garland, open presents. Eat the honey hickory ham. And then, after we get back from church, we'll all unpack the ultimate Christmas Eve experience. and we'll have a great time.
So with that expectation we jumped in the car. We put the ham on low. Little Elizabeth and Hannah and Lydia were bouncing with anticipation in the back of the Ford Aerostar minivan. And then and there I learned that my IQ is very low. My discretion is borderline.
Because the yew cut trees were closed already, shuddered at noon. And in the days before smartphones and GPS and easy websites, we were stuck big time. I said, hey, we can go to the hardware store. where the Cub Scouts were selling pre-cut trees yesterday, but we drove over there and they were close too. And when we come back, more of Jim Johnson.
with his Christmas tree story. When we come back, more of Jim Johnson's story here. on our American stores. Uh You know what separates the pros from the rest? It's not just talent, it's how you respond when the game gets tough.
You dig in, you fight back, and when it comes to your health, that same mindset matters. Yeah, especially if you or someone you care about is facing metastatic prostate cancer. There's a treatment called Pluvicto, Lutetium, Lu177, Vipivitide, Tetraxitan, and it's changing the game. Pluvicto isn't chemo. It's a different kind of treatment that targets PSMA positive cells, including prostate cancer cells.
Pluvicto can be used before chemotherapy for some people. Here's the official word. Pluvicto is a prescription treatment used to treat adults with prostate-specific membrane antigen-positive, metastatic castration-resistant prostate cancer, or PSMA-positive MCRPC who have already been treated with hormone therapy and are considered appropriate to delay chemotherapy.
Now, let's talk safety. Pluvicto involves contact with radioactivity, which may increase the risk for cancer and cause fetal harm. Drink plenty of fluids, urinate often, use contraception, and talk to your doctor about how to reduce the risk of exposing others to radiation during and after treatment. It can also cause low blood cell counts, kidney problems, and infertility. Tell your doctor if you notice weakness, pale skin, Shortness of breath, bleeding or bruising more easily, and infection or changes in urination.
Side effects include decreased blood cell counts, tiredness, dry mouth, nausea, appetite loss, joint or back pain, and constipation. Look. Every day matters. And if you're in the fight or know someone who is, this is a conversation worth having. Ask your doctor about Pluvicto because, just like in football, every play, every decision, every second counts.
Visit pluvicto.com to learn more. That's P-L-U-V-I-C-T-O.com. Mm-hmm.
So you're telling me that the AI that's meant to make everyone's job easier to manage? Just adds more to manage, on top of the thousands of apps the IT department already manages. Funny how that works. Any business can add AI. IBM helps you scale and manage AI to change how you do business.
Let's create smarter business. IBM. Uh This is Sophie Cunningham from Show Me Something. Do you know the symptoms of moderate to severe obstructive sleep apnea, or OSA, in adults with obesity? They may be happening to you without you knowing.
If anyone has ever said you snored loudly or if you spend your days fighting off excessive tiredness, irritability, and concentration issues, it may be due to OSA. OSA is a serious condition where your airway partially or completely collapses during sleep, which may cause breathing interruptions and oxygen deprivation. Learn more at don'tsleep on OSA.com. This information is provided by Lilly, a medicine company. Your pet is your bestie.
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Then the space hamster flew his hot air balloon all the way to the bottom of the ocean. Where did that story come from? Book? Dream? Nope, it came from a conversation.
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And we continue with our American stories and the story of Jim Johnson. And now let's return. to the story of Jim Johnson's Christmas tree. Linda started rolling her eyes. She whispered Are you sure about this?
And I was saying, well, go to the grocery store. They're going to be awesome. They have all sorts of trees there. But you guessed it right. when we pulled up to Palyubiki's I G A grocery store.
It also was closed. And there were exactly two trees left. two trees suffering from want and famine and malnutrition and neglect, and we had no choice. We bought a Charlie Brown tree and put ten dollars in the cash box. in the lonely Coleman cooler in the parking lot.
And my oldest daughter, aged six, Elizabeth, said, Daddy, what happened? Oh, this'll be fine, I said. That was my first Christmas tree failure. and at that point all three daughters, Liz, Han, and Lydia, were saddled with a notion for a lifetime. It goes like this.
Our Dad really doesn't know what he's talking about.
So three years later, after that failure, came a day of what I thought would be A time of major retribution. We had moved to Minneapolis And we visited the Goldenman Tree Farm, forty five minutes away from our house, past Elk River, across the Mississippi River, in the farm fields by Zimmerman. We left on a Thursday afternoon late But again, pre GPS and in the days before Siri, The way was not as clear as I had recalled it, and the traffic north on the notorious Minnesota Highway one oh one was clogged tighter than my thirty six inch waist pants on a thirty eight inch father. and we arrived at about five thirty, a half hour past closing. Having traversed afar on a Thursday night, That meant we could pick up a sweeter saw and cut down a six foot spruce tree in the dark, driving the minivan down icy roads of the tree farm by ourselves, and put the forty dollars in the Honor System cooler by the gate, and there was not a whole lot of romance in the process.
We cut down the tree with frozen fingers. In the black Minnesota night, But there was no hay rye, no hot chocolate, no apple cider, no caramel corn, no families by the fire. Just cut down the tree as fast as you can and get out of there. Daughter three Lydia said Palmer, Dad How come we came so late? asked little Benny, aged four.
And so for the next few years we gave up, we cheated with an artificial tree, a symbol of all that is wrong about American Christmas. an artificial tree, plastic broom like branches on a steel pole, painted green, silver, spikes painted hunter green. And you own one, and you bring it out, and soon you have to make the admission, yes. We have Advent Apathy here. We don't care.
We store pretend arbors in the basement. We are clean. Tidy people who disdain wood and dangle plastic wires with tiny lights on petroleum products shaped into a verdant cone. But we did that too, and I admit it.
So finally, after a time of proper fatherly repentance, I made a promise. To my radiant, radical, Christmas loving bride and our family now at its apex, five daughters, four boys. I made a vow. We will go back to the tree farm near Elk River. And I will give you the whole show.
I was now in my second decade of pastoral service. a pastor with experience now. but still utterly and incurably human. and then all the more tired in my over eager service as director of a Christian Bible college. I taught four classes, I directed a team of professors and interacted with parents and college kids.
and churches in a way that could stagger even the best of people persons. Besides that, we were living in a fish bowl right on campus. We dwelled in a church house. by Medicine Lake in bucolic Plymouth, Minnesota, and as such we were twenty four seven on call and Christmas tree farm cutting experiences demand really a full Saturday. of which I had very few in those days.
Saturdays and Sundays were my busiest days, especially in December. and I was on the verge of becoming a shull of a man.
So we piled into our now classic fifteen passenger Dodge van, all eleven of us. with the last seat pulled out so we could have room to squeeze in a tree. If the kids in the back would be willing to duck a little bit, For the 45 minute ride through weekend traffic on the 101, what would be so hard about that? And so, as we loaded into the van, I could feel the temperature rising in my head. Those weeks at the Bible College were eighty hour marathons in December.
End of semester grading, a Christmas concert weekend, four separate showings, a hundred and seventy college students. Twenty student pastors, hundred and twenty semester papers to peruse. Hundred and seventy finals to correct? Christmas parties, kids' gatherings, candlelight services, Christmas shopping to complete, under pressure. My friends with smaller families would tell me You brought this on yourself, pal.
You wanted to have this big family, and that was true. But somehow, when you're a dad in your mid forties with a seventeen year old daughter in the third bench, As far as she could get away from us? and a one year old boy in a baby seat behind the driver's chair? And Adventures and Odyssey Christmas episodes blasting out of the Dodge Ram thirty five hundred in mid December. I was dying of the pressure.
weary from minimal sleep and praying this Christmas memory would go fast. We arrived with crowds, the throngs of Minnesotans, at the Golden Man Tree Farm. and a world of sin and sorrow was reigning out there. The tires of our fifteen passenger van were spinning and pick ups were weaving in and out of the lanes of Fraser firs, white pines, blue spruces, balsam firs. and there in that humid van outside.
Sub degrees below zero temperatures. We could not quite find that tree, the exact right tree.
So I pushed a little, hoping that the nations would soon prove the glories of his righteousness. and Heaven and Nature sing, but it took us so long, and the dying young dad and the two poop to party pastor was almost ready to let sin and sorrow grow. But somehow we cut down the tree. We stuffed it in the back of the van. We drove it up to the shake and bag line, And there I thought for a precious minute, let's skip the two dollar shaken bag line.
I mean, it's only a forty five minute ride home, and it's freezing out here. And long lay the world in sin and error repining, Impatience is taking over, and I could not keep my eyes open. I said, Let's just go. And Linda said, No. We're going to pay the two dollars.
Go shake the tree. get in line and put that little orange netting around that tree. That, my friends, was where I made a big Christmas tree mistake. True natives of the land of the 10,000 Lakes State know the value of Minnesota gneiss can be a misnomer and a smokescreen. Those in the know call it mina sorda nice.
That is, there is a passion cloaked in passive aggressiveness. These are Northern women and Norsemen. They're soldiers, they chop trees, they sail Lake Superior. and they may smile, nod, and extend their hand in peace but Cross the line of well defined boundaries? And you're going to find a Viking there, leering with eyes like darts.
a frosty smile and a handshake that will squeeze the orange juice right out of you. And you've been listening to Jim Johnson telling his Christmas tree story, Minnesota Nice. And again, we are always looking for your stories, Christmas stories, any kind of story, send them. To ouramericanstories.com. When we come back, More of Jim Johnson's Christmas tree story here on Our American Stories.
You know what separates the pros from the rest? It's not just talent, it's how you respond when the game gets tough. You dig in, you fight back, and when it comes to your health, that same mindset matters. Yeah, especially if you or someone you care about is facing metastatic prostate cancer. There's a treatment called Pluvicto, Lutetium, Lu177, Vipivitide, Tetraxitan, and it's changing the game.
Pluvicto isn't chemo. It's a different kind of treatment that targets PSMA positive cells, including prostate cancer cells. Pluvicto can be used before chemotherapy for some people. Here's the official word. Pluvicto is a prescription treatment used to treat adults with prostate-specific membrane antigen-positive, metastatic castration-resistant prostate cancer, or PSMA-positive MCRPC who have already been treated with hormone therapy and are considered appropriate to delay chemotherapy.
Now, let's talk safety. Pluvicto involves contact with radioactivity, which may increase the risk for cancer and cause fetal harm. Drink plenty of fluids, urinate often, use contraception, and talk to your doctor about how to reduce the risk of exposing others to radiation during and after treatment. It can also cause low blood cell counts, kidney problems, and infertility. Tell your doctor if you notice weakness, pale skin, Shortness of breath, bleeding or bruising more easily, and infection or changes in urination.
Side effects include decreased blood cell counts, tiredness, dry mouth, nausea, appetite loss, joint or back pain, and constipation. Look. Every day matters. And if you're in the fight or know someone who is, this is a conversation worth having. Ask your doctor about Pluvicto because just like in football, every play, every decision, every second counts.
Visit pluvicto.com to learn more. That's P-L-U-V-I-C-T-O.com. So you're telling me that the AI that's meant to make everyone's job easier to manage? Just adds more to manage on top of the thousands of apps the IT department already manages. Funny how that works.
Any business can add AI. IBM helps you scale and manage AI to change how you do business. Let's create smarter business. IBM. Okay.
This is Sophie Cunningham from Show Me Something. Do you know the symptoms of moderate to severe obstructive sleep apnea or OSA in adults with obesity? They may be happening to you without you knowing. If anyone has ever said you snored loudly or if you spend your days fighting off excessive tiredness, irritability, and concentration issues, it may be due to OSA. OSA is a serious condition where your airway partially or completely collapses during sleep, which may cause breathing interruptions and oxygen deprivation.
Learn more at don'tsleep on OSA.com. This information is provided by Lilly, a medicine company. Yeah. Protect your pet with insurance from PetsBest. Plans start from less than a dollar a day.
Visit PetsBest.com. Pet Insurance products offered and administered by Pets Best Insurance Services LLC are underwritten by American Pet Insurance Company or Independence American Insurance Company. For terms and conditions, visit www.petsbest.com backslash policy. Products are underwritten by American Pet Insurance Company, Independence American Insurance Company, or MS Transverse Insurance Company and administered by Pets Best Insurance Services LLC. $1 a day premium based on 2024 average new policyholder data for accident and illness plans, pets aged 0 to 10.
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only at Costco. And we continue with our American stories and with Jim Johnson and his Christmas tree story.
So we parked the Dodge Ram van in the steaming huddle of about 15 cars. parked here and there. On top of the tree farm, And there were three shaken bag lines and three teams of young men handling fresh cut trees in the cold, and up we came like an army. I was George Patton. My kids marched up to the shakers and beggars like weary victors with our tree.
and I stood with the seven eight foot fur in my hand and teenage Ben and eleven year old Seth, handling the trunk end and me really thinking Do we really need the shake in the bag? I mean while fields and flocks, rocks, hills and plains repeat the sounding joy, Is it really necessary to shake your tree and to put it in an orange net. Linda said yes. It is necessary. My wife, my Mary, my Jeannette Isabella, we will pay for the shaking and the bagging.
We will pay the two dollars.
So I looked at her and I shook my head. Beautiful is the mother, ah, beautiful is the child I thought to myself, and looking back the finality of her word as tired as I was. It was beautiful too. There in the lull in those three lines I paused, and I did not know I was, in fact, the last person in line. I was dying of impatience and could not see it.
I knew it was two degrees below zero and Twenty, thirty Minnesota nice buyers of Christmas trees were standing there waiting, watching. No one was moving. I knew I was tired. My glasses were fogging. Sweat rolled down my forehead.
There was a line, but I didn't really see it. I was too tired to see it. It was a frozen huddle of Minnesotans in the fog of exhaust. And so while these passive Vikings stood holding their trees, I said to my boys, Let's go, guys, follow me. Too tired to notice, I marched to the front of the line and handed him my tree.
There was an unusual quiet when I got there. The twenty something tree bagger, long and lean, looked at me Turned. and took a breath. In an instant he snatched my tree out of my hand. Thank you, sir, he said.
With depth and drama for all to hear A very Merry Christmas to you, sir. A very Merry Christmas. And at that point I realized that thirty people were looking at me. and thinking that idiot, I was the buffoon who came too soon. the Christmas stiff who blew past twenty people in line to race to the front of the tree shaker and beggar.
My daughter Elizabeth, bold and direct, said, Dad, you budged. It was visceral. You could cut my foolishness with a knife. I heard a distinct hissing from several of the frozen moms of Christmas. I was not a pastor.
Not the father of nine, a lover of Christmas, not a spiritual leader. I was the bozo who barged. to the begging station. And since the tree was shaken and netted, there was no turning back. The silence of judgment is a piercing sound when you're a Minnesotan.
And with all those Vikings watching, and looking, and your nine children gaping, and your wife, sweet Linda, the Christmas bride. no longer standing in love, admiration, and respect, I was in trouble. It was there when I realized the tree was not shaken. I was shaken and begged. Why did you do that, daddy?
asked one of my prophetic children. Why did you budge in front of the line with the Christmas tree? I shook my head and said, Let's get out of here, and drove home. It has been fifteen years since that tragic day. Linda and I raised the kids in Southern California.
and living in Sunsplash Ventura County, a land of highways and hurry ups, was good for me. It was a place of high taxes and long lines. We enjoyed skyrocketing real estate. We enjoyed the beaches? We found that time heals almost everything.
The concept of nice takes on a different hue in Southern California, where the lines are long. and the kids are clustered, and the one oh one Ventura Highway Clogs and clutters or races like a speedway. In California the clash of Farsi in Spanish and English and Chinese means You have to learn to watch and wait a little bit more than you do in Minnesota.
Southern California gathers in children by the millions, from Asia, India, Iran, and Latin America. And they're in Ventura County. I made a hundred Hispanic friends, I learned to be a good neighbor. and I've figured out actually how to wait in lines. My son Isaiah was only three at the time of my first Christmas tree failure.
Thank you, sir a very Merry Christmas to you, sir.
So this year My son Isaiah sat in the driver's seat. I slouched in the passenger seat with my hands folded in our ancient Toyota Sequoya. and I was resolved to renew my Christmas credentials. You see, two years ago we moved back to Minnesota from California to work with new churches. I'm now a coach and a friend to young pastors and brand new start up churches.
And I'm fifty nine and slower. by several steps. The Christmas tree farm is only fifteen miles from our house now.
So I was determined to return to the scene of the crime. We came this year on Thanksgiving Day. two PM and I was surprised with a healthy COVID crowd. meandering among Christmas trees at the farm, coming together at the end for hot cocoa in a place by an outside camp fire, that this was really fun. There was no snow and no show.
Just fifty COVID Christmas tree customers. grabbing a cup of coffee or hot cocoa.
some with masks, most with saws, ready to cut down a Christmas tree and get shaked and bagged. We were distanced and cautious, but not necessarily because of the coronavirus 19, but because. We're learning the way to turn. It's mina sorta nice. To be sure, and I was determined to score a victory.
I brought my mandate mask and I wore it in the store. I bought a pair of mittens for Linda. I circled around and scored a Christmas wreath for thirty five bucks. And I walked with the kids out to the field and cut down two trees actually they cut down the two trees I watched We dragged them up the hill, where I waited in line, in thirty five degree weather, no snow, no pushing ahead in line, I watched the young men shake the tree and bag the tree. I was patient.
I was nice. I was awake. I waited my turn, I stood in the back, And when we got home, my three teenagers sliced open the two handsome trees, release them from their orange netting prison, and help set them up one downstairs and one on the main floor. You know, in a world of COVID scares and political upheaval. Mistrust and division, job losses and fears of global strife.
I think we can all learn a little bit by cutting down Christmas trees and waiting in line. You ever sing the third verse of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear? It's the verse that says, Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long. Beneath the angels' strain Have rolled two thousand years of wrong. And man at war with man hears not The love song which they bring Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife and hear the angels sing.
Edmund Sears wrote it back in eighteen forty nine And I think he has it right and twenty twenty. We live in the woes of sin and strife. We've suffered wrong. With people at war and a country in division, and all those car fumes and crowds of passive aggressive and downtrodden people, and some too nice to say anything, like Cyrus says it, We hear not the love song God brings. with the angels.
And we don't always hear Jesus either, sir.
So Hush the noise, ye men of strife, and hear the angels sing. In terms of recovery? and in gratitude for all those shakers and beggars in the world this Christmas. I admit I haven't quite got this Tonnenbaum thing licked. But I will say it again this way.
Hi, I'm Jim. I have problems with Christmas trees. But I'm learning. The baby Jesus grew up and died on a cross and rose again and is alive, very much alive. and real.
If the Christmas child can hush the noise and hear the angels sing, then I suppose I can smile and wait in line for five minutes. I'll get my Christmas tree early. I'll grab a cup of cocoa. I won't make my boys squeeze into a van with ten trees and a fifteen passenger van. And I'll greet every one who will make eye contact with the words Thank you, sir.
A very Merry Christmas, ma'am. I won't even cut to the front of the line. I'll buy an exorbitant Christmas wreath, and I'll make sure what happened on that holy night 2,000 years ago. to change a man like me little by little. really pays off.
How about you? Merry Christmas, sir And a special thanks to Jim Johnson, who was a longtime pastor. and lives in Rogers, Minnesota. Again, share your stories with us and our American stories, any kind. We love these listener stories.
Send them to ouramericanstories.com. Jim Johnson's Christmas tree story here on OurAmerican Stories. This is Sophie Cunningham from Show Me Something. Do you know the symptoms of moderate to severe obstructive sleep apnea or OSA in adults with obesity? They may be happening to you without you knowing.
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Non-stop action. The band is rocking and the crowd lit. Chants echo. Drum beat. Everybody's showing that school of pride.
Game like this? Yeah, it calls for an ice-cold Coca-Cola. Ah, crisp and refreshing. That's a game changer right there. Mmm, yeah.
That taste always hits the right note, just like a band at halftime. And just like that, we're back at it. Passionate fans, school colors everywhere, and an ice cold Coca-Cola, that's a winning combo. No matter the sport, no matter the yard, everybody knows. Fan work is thirsty work, so grab a Coca-Cola and keep that HBCU pride going.
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