According to the calendar, it would soon be Christmas, but it was hard to tell. Every day looked like all the others.rain, fog, drizzle, and endless hours of work. This third year of marriage, my husband's military service had taken us to the Pacific Northwest, far from our
"Please come and share our Christmas!"
I was touched, but hesitant to accept. They didn't know us and we didn't know them. Why would they call? The answer surprised me.
Almost fifty years before our move, my grandparents had lived in nearby
"You go! You will love them!"
The authoritative voice crackled through the long distance lines and I could almost see my grandmother's forefinger raised with emphasis. She'd written to Grace about our orders to the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard.
After my mother and grandparents returned to
At the door Grace embraced us while Joe relieved Jim of our bags. Later, he led us up a narrow, curving wooden staircase to a room whose cheerful green walls and white wicker furniture greeted us like a breath of spring. The dormer window seat offered a distant view of the winding rustic road that had brought us to this magical weekend retreat.
We soon discovered, besides family festivities, there would be unscheduled times for relaxing, sharing family photographs, or just savoring the solitude of a quiet walk on the rocky beach. Meals were simple, yet delicious. Fragrant homemade bread, mouthwatering cookies, fresh fruit, and savory chicken salad far surpassed anything store-bought, without the fuss of a lot of preparation. That left more time to talk and get acquainted.
The big family meal was held Christmas night at Grace's sister's house in town. Christmas brunch was served at the cottage. Friends and family stopped by to enjoy a buffet of banana bread, sausage balls, and quiche beautifully displayed on a white lace tablecloth in the dining room. Everyone else knew the party officially began with Joe's entrance from the kitchen carrying the centerpiece, an antique china bidet brimming with homemade eggnog! This souvenir of their military service in
These "strangers" and their generous brand of hospitality were succeeding in restoring our souls. Even though they were retired Army, they knew the sacrifices the Navy was asking us to make. My husband had been working eighty hour weeks with no days off, ripping the guts out of a nuclear submarine and hopefully putting it all back together again. It took a toll on Jim's body and our marriage. Just to see my husband peacefully snoozing on the sofa was perhaps the greatest gift of all. The only sound was the restful cadence of time gently passing, unhurried and unhindered, merely measured--by the grandfather clock in the hall.
And, like my grandparents before me, keeping Grace in our hearts became a family tradition. Many years have come and gone since that very special Christmas. Grace and Joe are now with my grandparents celebrating Christmas in heaven. But in our minds the memories are fresh and clear, unaffected by time or space, and totally characterized by love. A gift we could never repay was meant to be given away. And when we do, the blessing is doubled.
My mom, who had a penchant for preserving fairy tales, also had a knack for sizing up the human heart. Reluctantly, she confided the truth. I still remember her amazement at my reaction. I was so relieved that poor old man didn't have to traipse all over the whole earth making deliveries, I was absolutely ecstatic! A great burden, it seemed, had been lifted, and now I could enjoy the season!
From then on, I went to bed with my younger sisters and after they fell asleep, my parents would come get me to help put out Christmas. Somehow, that was even more special-to be included in a great secret of giving-than it was experiencing Christmas as a believing child.
When my middle sister learned the truth, she joined us in preparing Christmas for our youngest sister. When she grew up, we all prepared for a new level of giving--to ourselves and others--in celebration of the One whose birth had given so much to us. And that was the beginning of learning the real truth He modeled-our greatest joy would come from giving.
A newsletter from the church where I grew up offered a timely message. The pastor had penned these words long ago:
According to an angel, the purpose of the first Christmas carol, 'Noel,' was to 'certain' poor shepherds. Of course, according to the scripture (Luke 2:8-10), the shepherds were terrified before they were certained! I am sometimes terrified that as Christmas approaches I won't be certained.certained that indeed God is with us. What makes you certain of Christmas?
I pondered that question while continuing to read:
The season of Advent is a time of preparation; our preparation is an important piece of our certainty. We seem to go ahead with plans regardless of how we are feeling. We sometimes drag and moan ourselves toward the manger, and yet we go. The preparations of others are also a part of our certainty. When we feel uncertain ( or even terrified): Christmas cards still come.carols are sung.cookies are baked.packages are wrapped.church services are held.Christmas letters are sent.Santa still arrives.busy sidewalks are decked in holiday cheer.Christmas programs and concerts are televised.children are anxious and filled with excitement. All of this is 'certainly' Christmas! We become 'certain' of Emmanuel: God with us.
His words challenged me to think of ways that I was "certained" this Christmas that God is with us. So I came up with a list:
Scripture says that Mary pondered all these things and kept them in her heart-these the intangible gifts of Christmas, as real as gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but not as easily seen as the gifts under the tree.
Years ago I purchased a beautifully gift-wrapped box with a removable top. Inside, on slips of paper, family members were invited to record the un-wrapped heart blessings of each year-the small symmetries that bless us in spite of the personal challenges on our journey to the manger. Looking back through this "thank you gift to Christ" I discovered a treasure trove of certainty--a testament to God's faithfulness. I decided to buy a bigger box so my new list would fit.
In this season of great uncertainty, God finds old ways to remind us He makes all things new. "LET NOT YOUR HEART BE TROUBLED." He who provided the manger also provided the starlight we need to get there. Of that, I am certain.
I love to feed the birds. Sunflower seeds, suet cakes, peanut butter. And they come---slowly at first, and now regularly, expectantly, sometimes impatiently.
Whenever we're near the ocean, I revel in offering up pieces of bread for the seagulls that eagerly hover overhead. There are obvious hazards to this approach because of the variable nature of the wind. So one summer I chose to feed green grapes to crabs instead. They were leery at first, but soon were stashing their treasure in seaside burrows and coming back for seconds.
In the mountains, supper scraps left on the back porch of our rental cabin bring squirrels and raccoons with hands and noses pressed to the glass door, begging for more. It is a joy to watch them taking their fill with contented gulps and chatter.
What if someone dropped such treats along our paths free of charge occasionally, even regularly? How nice it would be! Or would we regard them with cynicism, reject them, or overlook them altogether-these graces that come to us off the beaten path-in the unexpected place, in an unanticipated way? Would our fear keep us from coming closer and eventually taking a taste?
At our last visit to the mountain cabin, a couple who went with us brought along some giant almonds. Sirloin steak for squirrels! The one that overcame his fear and took it from my hand had all he could eat and more. He went and told his friends, and they all came.
My prayer this Christmas is that we humans, like the animals in that first stable, would be brave enough to come to the manger and receive the ultimate nourishment our Heavenly Father offers. It is free, given in love, and with rejoicing at our acceptance.
Merry Christmas!