You see, Jim Robinson’s dad, Walter, for decades, had MS. In fact, there’s such a demonstrable cause and effect between one’s mental attitude and MS that doctors are sometimes reluctant to diagnose it for fear of worsening the disease with the news.Ĭonversely, perhaps no other illness responds so quickly or so dramatically, to hope. Medical science is only beginning to comprehend the power of Mind Over Malady, confirming that the way a patient thinks can steer the course of any disease – multiple sclerosis, in particular … multiple sclerosis, in particular. That same old Christmas light is still burning bright!” And the news was always the same, told in the same delighted, excited voice: “It lighted up again, son. Yet each and every Christmastime, wherever his post, Colonel Robinson received a telephone call from back home in Baldwin from his dad, Walter Robinson. He became a Colonel James Robinson, a chaplain in the United States Army, stationed here and abroad.
And Christmases passed and over the seasons subsequent, Jimmy grew up, left hometown Baldwin, Missouri, to see what lay beyond. Many of the replacements had been replaced, but that very last light continued to glow for the Robinson family each Christmas like a dear and ageless relative dropping in for the holidays. And each and every season that last light on the string, the only original bulb left, would light up and shine as brightly as ever before.Īll of the other bulbs in the set had been replaced. And as Jimmy held his breath, wishing hard, Dad would ceremoniously plug it in. Then before any other decoration was removed from the big dusty cardboard box, that one old strand of tree lights would be taken from it. He and Dad would bring home their Christmas tree, they’d get out the ornaments and the lights. So for Jimmy Robinson, Christmastime carried with it a unique anticipation. And it was slightly different from the newer ones – not only in outward appearance, but in a … in a magical, indefinable something in its glow. Oh, there was no mistaking that one bulb – it was the very last one on the string. For all of his parents’ holiday decorations, the most special was a strand of Christmas lights with a score of replacement bulbs in it and one original one – one clear white Christmas light that had come with the set and which had continued to burn brightly season after season. Jimmy Robinson looked forward to Christmastime each year for a thousand reasons – but for one in particular– the lighting of the old Christmas tree bulb. In a minute, you’re going to hear the rest of the story…. You can also read the transcript of “This Little Light” below:
#THE REST OF THE STORY ARCHIVE#
And if you want to relive more of Paul Harvey’s TROTS (The Rest of the Story), you can find the Internet’s largest archive of them HERE. Listen to an audio file of “This Little Light” below, or listen to it with accompanying Christmas lights on the YouTube video that I’ve put together by clicking on the image of the lights, above.
And do you remember Paul Harvey’s amazing storytelling ability fondly like I do?
#THE REST OF THE STORY FREE#
And feel free to comment below about any of your own favorite holiday traditions. So please spend the next 4 minutes with the master of storytelling, Paul Harvey. But I dug up a copy for you to listen to and perhaps be moved as I was so long ago. Alas, that station is long gone and I haven’t heard “This Little Light” for a few decades. And I would listen for it every year on my local AM radio station. So when I first heard this Paul Harvey “Rest of the Story” piece about “This Little Light” back in the ’70s I was moved. I think everyone can agree that memories of our parents, their own parents, and their parents’ parents are important to us since they help define where we came from and who we are. The winter months seem to be the best time to reflect on our ancestors and the various faiths we were brought up in. But for every culture that I’ve ever interacted with there seems to be a common thread. Of course, many of these holiday traditions will be built around your own upbringing and culture. Each of us has (or, at least, should have) some sort of holiday tradition.
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