My Holiday Wish
Sunday morning in my house is usually peaceful — coffee, crossword, chucking the ball for dogs and then church. While chucking the ball at 9:15 this Sunday, I learned my daughter was in a NYC hospital with her best friend. They were in NYC for a fun weekend, but her friend had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance early this morning. The phone reception at the hospital was terrible so we had to text. After much back and forth I learned that while her friend had been very sick overnight, it appeared she would be ok due to their quick and decisive action. A little rattled I then jumped in the car to head to church and backed into my son’s car in the driveway. He came home from school last night and I completely forgot his car was in the driveway. My car is fine, but the front driver side light of my son’s car will need to be replaced. No one was injured and it’s just a car, but I was frazzled and saying words not fit for church.
I walked into church to an incredible rendition of “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus/O Come O Come Emmanuel” and sat next to a family with a six-month-old baby in a car seat. While the music played, he persistently pulled at his handknit booties until he successfully removed both at which point he happily got one foot straight into his mouth. While this was all going on, a friend came along and asked if she could sit with us. Together we listened to the joys and concerns of the congregation which included 90th birthday wishes, college graduation congratulations, cancer diagnosis and deaths. We listened to a sermon titled “What A Mess” in which the pastor shared that his family Christmas tree had fallen over four times breaking family ornaments and creating quite a mess. Then while visiting his mother for a holiday party in her memory care facility, someone spilled a drink creating a terrible mess. He wondered if in the hustle of the holiday any of us had moments that had become quite a mess. I sure did. By the time he was mid sermon talking about the man in memory care who repeatedly asked his daughter what the violin was, my friend, whose mother has dementia, was crying beside me. What a mess. But in those seats together we were not a mess. We were humans who had chosen to take the time out of our holiday preparation to be in community with others for a few priceless moments. We shared our joys and concerns and listened to beautiful music, a meaningful message and smiled at precious babies — all in preparation for a celebration of the birth of a baby.
The next song played, and it was one I have never heard before. The lyrics of “Nothing but a Child” by Steve Earle are:
Once upon a time in a far off land
Wise men saw a sign and set out across the sand
Songs of praise to sing, they traveled day and night
And precious gifts to bring, guided by the light
They chased a brand new star, ever towards the west
Across the mountains far, but when they came to rest
They scarce believed their eyes, they’d come so many miles
And this miracle they prized was nothing but a child
And nothing but a child could wash those tears away
Or guide a weary world into the light of day
And nothing but a child could help erase those miles
So once again we all can be children for a while
Now all around the world, in every little town
Every day is heard a precious little sound
And every mother kind and every father proud
Looks down in awes to find another chance allowed
And nothing but a child could wash those tears away
Or guide a weary world into the light of day
Nothing but a little baby
Nothing but a child
All of us will have frazzled moments of mess in the coming days. My wish for you is that in those frazzled moments you quickly realize that those are moments to stop and be fully present. Those are the moments to remind you to stop and take note of the tiny things going on around you — the baby taking off his booties, the dementia patient who doesn’t know what the violin is called but knows the lyrics to the songs.
My wish for myself if that my children will all get home safely for Christmas, that I will remember that there are extra cars in the driveway and that I will move slowly enough to notice the small things that make the holidays special, especially the messes. My wish for you this holiday is that you are witness to many precious children and many holiday messes.
