In some ways it's similar to Christmas 1967 when my brother Bill was serving as a Forward Artillery Observer in the US Marines in VietNam. My mother announced that year we would each receive one gift. Not that we were rich--by any stretch of the imagination--and were used to mounds of presents. No way. But that year, she needed to acknowledge in a visible way that our nuclear family was scattered and shattered. Norman Rockwell would not be painting our picture.
That year, our Christmas season involved gathering around the television for nightly national news coverage as much as gathering around the tree for multicolored wishing. That year, Christmas music and visons of sugarplums were replaced with square muddy images of soldiers, helicopters, and napalm attacks in tropical forests. How does a mother hold it together when her son is half a world away on the front lines . . .? Now that I'm a mother of sons too, I marvel at the way my Mom handled that holiday. In our house that year there was a solemnity and deep peace that surpassed the frivolity and glitter. We celebrated--not the advent of Santa Claus, but the birth of The Prince of Peace.
This Christmas is a hunker down holiday. Busy weeks spent with our precious grandson have caused much introspection. Sandy, what exactly do you want to teach this boy? Did Jesus leave His throne in Heaven so that I could get my knickers in a knot over not getting our Christmas tree up soon enough? Does finding time to shop for gifts trump slowing down to share the Gift? Are Peace and Joy tied in bright paper with shiny ribbon, or wrapped in an everday call to "small things with great love."
The phone rang at 1:30 PM on Monday, December 10th. "Travis has died," my friend said. I kept repeating, shouting "What?!" Thoughts raced. My brother in Christ? My 50 year-old friend? The son of my dear friends Ann and Ken--gone? What--my close friend Kelly's husband died?! Before the truth settled in, I grabbed my keys and was on the way to Chappell Hill to hug Ann and Kelly.
In the car I told God lots of things. I was certain Travis was in the presence of his Lord and Savior because I believe God's promises. God loved the world so much that He sent His One and Only Son into the world. Whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I told God the truth, and confessed I was jealous that Travis got to see Jesus face to face. I was so grateful for the time God gave us to be friends, volunteer co-workers, and siblings in the little church family in Chappell Hill. Remembering all the hours Travis and I had spent with others in meetings over the years--Future Planning, Education, Nomination--I threw my head back and smiled outloud. "There are no committee meetings in Heaven, are there?!
But mostly, when I think about Travis' sudden and unexpected death 15 days before Christmas, I thank God for Jesus' birth. After all, God's Son was born to die; the shadow of His Cross was cast across His Cradle. Jesus didn't come to rock around the Christmas tree. His mission, His life was to draw men and women to God. His death, burial, and resurrection brought victory over sin and death and hell. His sacrifice has bought eternal life to all who will believe.
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| Our tree this year has white lights, ribbon, and some of the names of Jesus. This is enough. |
Sometimes I need to be placed in the trenches before I stop long enough to remember who--and what-- we're celebrating. A hunker down holiday knocks me to my knees where I can see how small I am and how big and perfectly wonderful God is.
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