I think I was about seventeen years old. Christmas Eve had finally come. The choir at our church had worked very hard on our Christmas music and I felt like I was ready.
When the Midnight Mass Service was over, I felt extra good about myself. I had been in the church choir for several years already, but this time I felt more grown up. I felt like I had contributed my voice to bless others, and felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I was a part of bringing in Christmas!
I slowly stepped outside with my hot “Lipton” tea and freshly baked Christmas cookie. (Churches always provide beverages and baked goods if they know what’s good for them, especially at Christmas!) As I stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the church parking lot, it was calm and serene–much quieter than the noisy parish hall inside.
The air was cool, crisp and slightly damp. I was plenty warm, since I was wearing my tan wool double-breasted coat, and my favorite gray crocheted, floppy hat that covered my ears. I looked up to the sky. Little, soft, white dots floated down onto my face. Then, I saw my brother and sister up ahead, and I heard: “It’s snowing! Cool! It looks like we are having a white Christmas after all!”
I walked up to the edge of the road to join them. We stood there and just enjoyed the stillness together. The road–which was usually busy and noisy with traffic during the day–was unusually quiet, instead, and I heard only a few cars in the distance. The three of us stood still and looked up again to heaven, embracing this rare moment and silence. Then, I remember thinking: Life doesn’t get much better than this!
But, we hadn’t even opened up any presents yet. I hadn’t unwrapped my new, lavendar “Nike” sneakers, or that special bracelet, or those pretty blue corduroys from a “Lane Bryant” catalog for tall girls (so they would actually fit me!) No. I hadn’t even opened up my stocking, with two candycanes, many “Hershey” kisses, some fancy earrings, a “Seventeen” magazine and a big “Sunkist” orange in the very bottom of the stocking at the foot. (I had always wished that a small present in a box or more candy could replace those big oranges that we got every year, though somehow those big oranges helped offset the candy and sweets that we often at over Christmas vacation.)
No, I hadn’t experienced any of those surprises yet. But, somehow, I felt like I had already had my Christmas. Life felt complete.
Our tranquility was broken as more people came out of the church, including my parents. They joined us and we strolled to the car together. As I got into the backseat, I looked up again to savor those cool little dots landing gently on my face, again.
After that, I heard a still, small voice, (which maybe was only a figment of my imagination), but I still think I heard it: “He is born!”
That little baby is now lying in a cow trough, while a sheep nudges its nose. A little baby is to grow up and save the whole world, so that people like me could be reconciled to God. Yes, this same baby is to grow up and withstand a tragic death just for me.
Then, I heard a parental voice say: “Please, get in the car. We want to have time to see the Christmas lights around town, before the snow sets in.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said.
(But, though I was going to enjoy seeing the lights, no one else truly knew that I had already had my Christmas. The rest of my Christmas was only going to be like “Icing on the cake!”)
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