Newspapers / Montreat College Student Newspaper / Dec. 15, 1983, edition 1 / Page 2
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Page 2 !f=- ALETHEIA Holly D. Dolan Editor-in-Chief - Reporters - Sharon Blackwell Holly Murray Susie Sinclair Lee Woodard - News Briefs Credit - Juiia Steadman - Layout Credit - Sharon Blackwell - Sponsors - Van Kornegay ALETHEIA 1 A Christmas Story Julia Steadman Lisa Timmons Joey Vollmer Holly Murray Portia White / asked God for strength, that t might achieve; i was made weak, that I might team humbiy to obey.... i asked for heaith, that I might do greater things, I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.... I asked for riches, that i might be happy; i was given poverty, that i might be wise.... I asked for powers, that I might have the praise of man; I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.... I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life; I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.... I got nothing that I asked for, but everything that I had hoped for. Almost despite myself my unspoken prayers were answered. I am, among all men, most richly blessed. — author unknown Ot* by Susie Sinclair I breathed on the window pane to make it fog up. if it fogged up a lot, that meant it was really cold outside. It fogged up a lot. In the last few days, Calvin’s and my excitement has really been in high gear. The two of us have been awake a iong time this morn ing, but we have strict orders not to go downstairs until the rest of the family is ready — one of those paren- _ tal quirks. I don’t know why n they get such a kick out of watching us get all antsy. This is torture. I want to know if I got any decent presents or not this time, m going to can this “being good’’ bit if the dividends don’t acceierate. Finally everyone is gathered in the alcove. Mom sends Richard down to make sure Santa’s come. (The woman is begin ning to get on my nerves.) He reports affirmativeiy, and everyone herds down. Calvin and I jump on the banister and are the first ones into the living room. We stop short. Now, i am oniy six years old, but I know a piece of art, and I turn to Calvin, “Where on earth do you think Santa latched on to a bodaciously bejeweled tree like that one?’’ It really is a sight over there sparki- ing in the far corner, with colorful packages spilling from under it and spreading across the floor. I can just get into these Perry Como kind of scenes. I watch Calvin’s eyes skim the pic ture and then fix suddenly into a rather convuisive bulge. Then/see it...the two most wonderful new bicycles in the worid on our street. We veto the other presents and make a beeline to the bikes. Calvin im mediately turns his upside * down, winding the pedals to spin the spokes fast enough to shred ali the bows he’s grabbing from other gifts. Mine is dark blue. I just want to stare at it awhile, because it makes me feet 1 happy and warm like I did the time i was in love with Cory Misenheimer. The only I transpo I’ve ever had before was an old, brown, corroded mama-tricycle that my oldest brother. Bill, had II taken the handlebars off of II and left me with virtualiy y nothing but a nub to steer with. This one though...it is perfect, it is sieek...it even has a banana seat, a blue one with a thin white racing stripe down the middle of it. i mean, “The Ultimate Driv- j. ing Force’’ may as weli be n written across the chain guard, i knock the kickstand up and run aiong side it circling and ciosing in on y Calvin, making vulture screeches until I hit the credenza, and Mom telis Caivin to stop causing trou ble and for us both to go out side. Calvin and I are standing in the yard looking at the bikes and speculating about what to actuaily do with them. We already tried standing it close to a tree and climbing high enough up the tree to make a short leap onto the seat, but the outcome wasn’t so great. Calvin miscalculated and missed the seat. I guess it was the frozen ground that peeled the side of his face and made it welt up a little. I was in the process of giving him helpfui hints in a sister- iy way on how he shouid deal with his iack of equilibrium when he blurts out some totally irrelevant stuff about my attitude. The spiil he’s taken has threatened his masculine ego, I suppose, but I’m really too young to understand all that psyche stuff. So, we get into your basic major six year old argument and decide to take the bikes to the hill and race. That seems to us the perfect, dar ing, irresponsibie, child-like thing to do to soive an argu ment. We’re ready. I giance at Calvin. His dark eyebrows knit anxiously as he fixes his eyes on his path. I’m anxious, too...He is realiy going through with this. Where is adult supervision when you need it? I asked him if he wanted to open his present from me now, but he was on his mark, getting set so when he shouted, “GO,” we went. We run along and jump on — and stay on! I, for one, am impressed with myself. Calvin is pedaiing to induce speed and passes me, turning left, making a wide sweep, ieaning his bike low against the ground and uprighting it. I am not turn ing left; the barbed wire fence at the bottom of the hill is doing what I think tail people call “looming”. I have Lost my abiiity to move; I shouid have started my day with breakfast. The fence is reaiiy doing that looming bit. I am really going to manage to kiil myseif on Christmas Day. My whole life fiashes before my eyes, but it doesn’t realiy take up that much time; my bike jerks to a stop three feet before the fence. I turn to see Biii holding on to the back of my banana seat. He had run out with only his shorts on and was breathing so hard I thought his chest wouid sureiy fiy apart. But he cocked his head and managed a grin, and I may be omysixyears old, but that’s one boda- acious example of sacrificial love. He just made me realize what a Merry Christmas is about — caring and giving, i.e. loving. A TIME FOR THANKSGIVING by Dr. Silas M. Vaughn As I write this article, I am still filled with the memories of the bountifui Thanksgiv ing holiday which we recent ly celebrated. Reflecting over the events of the past year, i am reminded of ali that Montreat-Anderson Col iege has to be thankful for. I would like to share with you one of the joyous things that recently happened here. A few weeks ago, a letter came to me from a dear friend of the Coilege who lives in Decatur, Georgia. Mrs. Malcom A. (Clyde) Thompson had sent a check for $10,000 to be used in Montreat-Anderson’s Scho larship Fund, in memory of her late husband. This generous contribution is the third such gift Mrs. Thomp son has made to Montreat- Anderson’s Scholarship Fund. A committed Christian who has a broad interest in Christian causes, Mrs. Thompson is an active mem ber of Decatur Presbyterian Church. She is also very ac tive in community affairs and is a member of Mon treat-Anderson’s Board of Visitors. The late Mr. Thompson was involved in banking throughout his lifetime. A gift of this size will be of help to approximately ten Montreat-Anderson students receiving scholarship aid. I can think of no more ap propriate way in which to honor a loved one’s memory than through an investment in the future of young men and women who are seeking to prepare themselves with a quality education in a Christian environment. Montreat-Anderson College is indeed blessed to have friends like Mrs. Thompson who are interested in the future of our students. There are many things at Montreat-Anderson for which we can be thankful - of these, one of the greatest is the continuing presence of students like you who are seeking a Christ-centered education. As we move toward this most special season in which we cele brate the birth of our Saviour, I want to thank you for being among those bipssings for which Montreat-Anderson can be thankful. Best wishes for the most joyous Christmas and a p r o sperous New Year,
Montreat College Student Newspaper
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Dec. 15, 1983, edition 1
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