My Annual Christmas Letter
This is the 40th-something edition of a letter I used to copy (on the copier at church, of course), stamp, and mail
Dear family and friends,
I’ll start where I usually end these holiday letters – with deep gratitude for all of you, my family and friends. With everything else going on in the world today – to say nothing of my passport country, the U.S.A. – I count the relationships in my life as an important source of encouragement and hope. I’m truly thankful for you.
One of the sweet surprises of getting to my age is discovering how wonderful fabulous astounding incredible amazing long-term friendships can be. Often through the dubious miracle of social media, I stay in touch with a large number of friends I have known since we attended Sylvan Christian School together. (That’s the elementary school where I deeply impressed my teachers each year with my almost total lack of interest in academics.)
One of those long-term friends was Rick Oppenhuizen, who like me became a pastor. He passed away in January, after a double lung transplant failed to extend his life, but we were able to spend quality time together the previous August, the week before I left for the Hague. Rick was a fine friend to me, and I suspect he was a fine friend to the people he served as pastor. Well done, good and faithful servant. I miss you.
Speaking of old friends, I have a 45th class reunion with Princeton Seminary classmates this spring. At first I thought a 45th reunion was an unusual number to choose – why not the 50th? But then it occurred to me that not all of us are going to make it to the 50th. I am aware of other classmates who, like my friend Rick, left us too soon. So, yes, I am planning to go. I expect that I will be even more horrified at the sight of my seminary classmates than I was with my high school classmates at our recent 50th reunion. I have lost an inch in height, my hair is gray, and I am crinkly around the eyes – other than that, I haven’t changed a bit. It’s the others I plan to feel sorry for.
Speaking of the Hague and old friends, I returned in May from a nine-month adventure as the interim pastor of the American Protestant Church in the Hague. I had a wonderful and life-giving experience. If that church turns out to be my last hurrah, I will leave feeling pretty good about my life as a pastor. I met so many good and memorable and faithful people. It is a remarkable church, and I am happy to report that I left it in the capable hands of a young pastor named Scotty J. Williams, who was my colleague in Zürich, Switzerland, way back in 2014. Greetings to you, my Dutch friends! I miss you too.
For nearly two years, during the height of Covid, Susan and I owned a house in Minneapolis, which I jokingly described as our pied-à-terre. Its most attractive feature was that it put us in the same neighborhood as our daughters and their families; however, it was a fixer-upper, and it needed a considerable amount of work. (There’s my gift for understatement.) The best part of that experience was seeing family members nearly every day. The next-best part was that we sold the house in May. Susan did the lion’s share of the renovation, and the photos (inside and out) at the time of sale reveal a radical and lovely transformation. (Informants have told us that the new owners have already added a three-car garage which is nearly as big as the house. Yikes.)
So, as of May, Susan and I are back to our house in Edgewood Beach, north of Holland, within a few steps of Lake Michigan. (After being gone for three winters, I forgot how bleak this time of year can be, when 90 percent of our neighbors leave for the winter.) I am hard at work on a new book project, and I am also finishing up an interesting class at Western Seminary, where I am easily the oldest student. I’m currently writing my first term paper in … let’s say, many years. Susan has converted the bonus room above our garage into an art studio and, since then, has been steadily producing paintings and sculptures, feeling more creative and fulfilled than she ever did during her years as a lawyer. Except for everything else that’s happening in the world, we’ve got a good life.
A couple days before Christmas we are heading to Chicago to see “Hamilton” with dear friends Mary and Tom, then it’s off to Seattle for Christmas with younger daughter and her family. They left Minneapolis last summer, sold their house – thereby breaking up our family compound in Minnesota – and returned to Seattle because Amazon made it abundantly clear that my son in law had to work in the office. On Christmas Day, presumably after a chaotic morning of opening presents, we are flying to La Mesa, California, where we will have six adults and four grandchildren sharing a rental home with an ocean view, plus heated pool and hot tub. This is also the good life.
Please pray for our country. I don’t know where we’ll be a year from now. These are frightening times – nationally and, I have to say it, locally as well. The good news is that a savior was born into the world. That gives me some hope and confidence right about now.
Love,
Photo: That’s where we live.
Hey Doug,
We would like to wish you and Susan a very Merry Christmas and wonderful New Year!
I have always enjoyed your postings and blogs - so delighted you are both pursuing fulfilling hobbies, besides keeping warm and enjoying your family!
Take care!
Carolyn, Wolfgang, Natasha and Justin ( Zurich)
It's always great to read your postings, and we're glad to hear your life is good, and that you will have the chance to visit with your extended family over the holidays. Merry Christmas and all the best in 2024!