Christmas means many things: family and friends, fun and laughter, church services and caroling, giving and receiving gifts. Yet none is as important as remembering a weary man and woman trudging their way to Bethlehem to be taxed. Did Joseph and Mary breathe sighs of relief when they reached their destination? If so, they must have been short-lived. There was no room at the inn, even for a troubled husband or Mary, heavy with child. For want of a cradle, Jesus was laid in a manger.Each December I ponder on these things. I think about gifts. Joseph surely gave Mary whatever tender care he could on their seventy-mile journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. If they owned a little donkey, the plodding beast would have saved Mary many weary steps by carrying her on his back. Mary would have prepared as best she could, packing swaddling cloths with which to wrap her newborn Son. The shepherds had nothing to give but their presence. Later, when the wise men from the east came in the house where Jesus lay, they presented costly gifts of gold, frankincense, and mrryh.
The important thing is--they all gave what they had.
I love Christmas stories. One of my favorites is Charles Tazewell’s 1946 fantasy story, “The Littlest Angel." It has become a classic.
According to the story, the newest inhabitant of heaven supposedly can’t sing on key or arrive on time. He can't keep his halo on straight or fly without tumbling through the air. He confesses to the Understanding Angel that he misses a box he left under his bed at home. When it is returned to him, the Littlest Angel’s troubles cease.
One day God announces that Jesus will soon be born in Bethlehem. The Littlest Angel decides what Jesus would like best is the box of treasures. He proudly gives his gift then grows ashamed. The bits and pieces of his former life cannot compare with the other gifts. Bitter tears fall until the butterfly with golden wings, a sky-blue egg from a bird's nest, two white stones, and a worn-out strap from the Littlest Angel’s faithful dog are found acceptable. As the Son of Man as well as the Son of God, Jesus will know and appreciate such common things.
Gifts that keep on givingThree gifts stand out in memory. Not because of their monetary value, but because of the love that prompted them.
I'll never forget Dad's expression one Christmas when he opened a heavy box and discovered twenty books by his favorite author, Zane Grey. At 69 cents each, plus shipping, it wasn't much money, but we all knew that Mom had scrimped and saved to get it. The gift provided hours of joy as our family read the titles by kerosene lamplight. It also made me determine to someday write a western novel.
For my seventeenth birthday Dad took me to a stationery store fifty miles from our hometown He said, "Colleen, choose any BIble you want." A Bible of my very own! We had a family Bible but I only had a Gideon testament. I picked a King James, red-letter edition with my name inscribed on the cover in gold. I own many Bibles but, worn with use, it is the single thing I would hope to save in case of fire. Why? Because (1) Dad sacrificed precious time to procure it. (2) It is my only gift that ever came just from him. 
3. My brother's son lived with Dad, Mom, and me for several years. When Jerry was a teenager, Mom was hurt in a car accident. For the next week, I could barely keep up with my demanding job and visit her. The Friday Mom was to come home found me exhausted. I faced housecleaning and meal preparation after work before going to get her.
When I arrived home, I found beds made with freshly laundered sheets, a vacuumed, dusted house, a casserole ready for the oven, and a large veggie salad. There was even a freshly cut rose in a vase. Jerry had given me a priceless gift. I cried. We ate--and brought Mom home.
And so, as Tiny Tim
from Charles Dickens’s The
Christmas
Carol said, “God bless us, everyone.”
Merry Christmas!
4 comments:
You know, I just don't experience that alleged political correctness re Christmas. We are wished "Merry Christmas" right, left and center--and often by those not of a Christian faith or culture: Indian Sikhs, Middle Eastern Muslims, Jewish people. Seems to me somebody's imagining a war on Christmas that really doesn't exist. But then each of us has a different experience. In any case, Merry Christmas to you, Colleen. And thanks for sharing your heartfelt Christmas memories.
You are right, Judy. I remember years ago in one of the Kent schools there was a big discussion about whether Christmas carols should be banned from the school program. A woman (I think from the Ukraine) stood and said she found it offensive to even consider such a thing. She wanted her children to know and respect American traditions. I believe it turned the tide. They were allowed.
Thank you for sharing your Christmas memories. Here's wishing you even more special moments in the years to come.
Thanks, Sandy. They are the "peaks" that brighten the "valleys" of life for us.
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