December 18, 2013
Christmas is totally my time of year. No matter where I am—the variant climates I’ve celebrated it in, or what the peculiarity of the country’s celebratory Christmas traditions were—when I close my eyes and picture Christmas, it’s crackling yew logs on the fire, snow gently falling, and a surreal mist surrounding the event. It would be sentimental to say you can almost smell Christmas, but sometimes you can. And if you think this is merely because I have had the chance to experience the aforementioned picture-perfect setting, then I would have to notify you that of all the Christmases I’ve celebrated, none were like that, yet each, in its own way, was perfect.
I was always puzzled by the statement, “I have Christmas in my bones!” I simply repeated it as a kid, because it seemed a decent clause to use at times. For example, should my mum query us on our peculiar behavior, what better answer could be used than, “We have Christmas in our bones!” Of course, this was always backed up by the quote, “If you have Jesus in your heart, then every day is Christmas.” The trend didn’t last long. Back to Christmas, though, there is no denying the special feeling Christmas has to it.
Last year was my first Christmas working in an office [and not being able to devote the month of December to reaching people with the Christmas message]. I was stumped. What was I to do with myself? There was no illustrious stage to stand on and tell thousands of people the true meaning of Christmas. Everything looked very different, especially as I sat staring at a computer monitor, psyching myself up with, “I have Christmas in my bones!” Not really.
A thousand memories flooded my mind, such as those of caroling till my toes were so frozen I was certain if I stubbed my toe it would snap off. But I barely noticed it then, because it was Christmas Eve and I was bringing an extra touch of the Lord’s love to people’s Christmas. It was enough to forget about my numb feet and hands. Or the excruciating summer heat that our show troupe was trying to perform in, somewhere at the bottom of the globe; but I loved it all the same.
I can picture the old folks we visited, who were so touched that tears were their only expression of gratitude. The satisfaction I felt at such moments is the essence of the happiness of Christmas for me. Or the times we stood on the sidewalk handing out “Somebody Loves You” tracts to the cars inching along in the Christmas traffic. The smiles that illuminated their faces as they asked, “Really? Someone loves me? Who?” are etched in my memory for eternity. Because in those moments I could feel every part of my body tingling with the warmth of Christmas that I felt and was in turn sharing with others.
It’s not a mighty Christmas witness you can give a computer, and I couldn’t help but feel a loss. But I found a new sense of joy the more I thought about it—I was still a part of all the Christmas adventure. I still felt all the elation surrounding the wondrous day. It was not extravagant, by any means. But it was beautiful, and that was because we were celebrating the birth of the most amazing person who ever walked the face of the earth. His birth so long ago has not faded, and never will despite the passing millenniums.
There is no soul insignificant enough to be forgotten and left unaffected by the Christmas beauty we have to share. And even if it is only one person whom we touch, at least it is one person’s life that will be changed for eternity.
Merry Christmas!
Voice of Forever
I heard a voice call from the winter sky,
“Watch, O child! Thy Savior is nigh.”
The voice of angels sang through the air,
A promise of hope, an answer to my prayers.
But where must I find the newborn babe?
I am only a child, I know not where He is laid.
I cried in despair, but amidst trickle tears
The night’s deep voice broke clear,
“Look to the star above, little one,
To find the tiny love who’s come.”
Lifting my staff to help me stand,
I stumbled o’er the dusty land.
Each step pained my weakened frame;
’Tis but a sorrow, for I am lame.
Yet out in the cold and darkened night
An infant beckons me in the starlight.
My heart broken and marred with grief
Finds only a touch of hope, to which I cling.
Pressed by the dream of my Savior’s birth,
Till it seemed to lighten the very earth.
Still I could not hold my head high,
For the howling wind bustled and sighed.
How can my heart falter upon this path,
When the dawning of new life I have?
“Walk on, child, through the mist of tears.
Though thy way be hazy, believe not the fears.”
A glow softly permeated the tiny gaps;
The light of peace, and salvation perhaps.
My heart pounded with profuse rumble;
The Lord of Ages lay tender and humble.
No sign of grandeur save a lowly manger.
“Lord, who is to protect Thee from danger?”
I asked in concerned thought.
To lose Him now, I wish this not.
My tiny sob carried on the breathless air,
Moving closer to see His beauty so fair.
His little body, so small and frail,
Did He come so love may prevail?
I knelt as silent tears slid down my cheek.
“Christ child, so precious and meek,
Grant me health that I may live for Thee.
To follow Thy path, where’er it may be.”
His eyes fluttered in slumber’s bliss.
The coo of His mother’s song, her only wish:
“Fair baby, follow thy heart, where’er it leads,
Bring hope to all, despite their creed.”
A simple prayer, though sent from the soul
Of a mother and her dreams untold.
Still, as I knelt a heavenly light shone upon me,
Healing my limbs, and setting my soul free.
Originally published in The Free Zine, December 2000.
Republished on Anchor December 2013.
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