Christmas Again

Since childhood, I have written stories and poems, but recently realized never have I penned any Christmas fiction. A recent walk along the sidewalks and greenways of our town, along with some times of quiet reflection on the holiday season and the verses that follow this story, planted the seed that led to what follows. - DCG

The day seemed to have no end.

The morning’s expectation of a simple holiday shopping trip with family grew dim and distant in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. Browsing gave way to strategy as the casual opportunity to gather a few gifts turned into a full-blown expedition. An anticipated stroll from shop to shop was now a hard march through our small town’s annual Christmas market.

Please don’t misunderstand; there is great joy in the togetherness of family, to be certain. And with each checkmark next to a name on the list came a growing sense of accomplishment. Moreover, the atmosphere of the day was wonderfully festive – full of music, food, laughter, and reconnecting with old friends. But beyond the tinsel and carols, past the twinkling lights and closely held traditions, was a longing for some stillness in the hustle and bustle.   

We joined the current of the crowd as they moved from the sidewalk and through the doors of a newly opened mercantile, like a school of bargain-hunting sharks scanning the waters for the next, tasty “30% off” morsel. Without any sort of instruction, everyone defaulted to entering on the right, slowly continuing about the floor, and exiting to the left – the most efficient way to carefully view all the offerings spread and stacked across table and shelf.

Under my breath, I wondered how long our retail wandering would last. At this precise moment, I spied it – a tufted leather couch in the center of the store. Invitingly vacant. A low coffee table and two plaid-covered armchairs completed this merciful oasis of rest amid the trudging caravan of customers.

As my family continued to shop, I sat down slowly and rested my elbow on the sofa’s button-studded arm. Across the table, in one of the chairs, was a young boy on his knees. As his mother stood and spoke animatedly with her friends, the child pushed a small, red toy truck along the sloping arm of the chair before allowing it to roll back down into his awaiting hand. Again and again, he repeated the routine, each time moving the toy closer, but not quite yet, to the top. 

“It’s almost here.”

Those words, spoken from my right, snatched my attention from the child’s methodical cycle.

Although convinced that I had been sitting alone, as I looked over, I saw a man whose arrival at the other end of the couch went unnoticed and unheralded. Now, in what seemed like a twinkle of the eye, he was most definitely present.

“It’s almost here,” he repeated. “Christmas. It’s almost here.” He surveyed the activity in the room with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes,” I replied. “Nearly upon us.”

Casting a longer sideways glance, I sized up this new addition to our shared sanctuary from the holiday hubbub. His full head of silver hair, cut short at the sides, draped longer but neatly, from the top. His face was clean-shaven, slightly tan, with a few faint wrinkles. A white button-down shirt stood in contrast to the shawl collar of the black cardigan he wore. Khaki pants and brown lace-up boots completed his look. His age was undiscernible; something about him seemed very old, yet other characteristics made him appear quite young. He was, in all respects, vague. Even now, thinking back on him, my memory fails me for any further details. Perhaps his unassuming appearance contributed to his undetected arrival.

“Shopping?” he asked.

“Waiting,” I replied.

“Waiting,” he repeated. “That can be exciting.”

I sighed. “Well, I for one, have never been too terribly patient. And I suppose any ‘excitement’ depends upon what you’re waiting for.” I absently checked my watch.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he responded. “Especially when you see how things are being worked out behind the scenes.” He paused, narrowed his eyes, then spoke with what seemed like genuine concern, “You seem tired. Are you tired?”

“Is it that obvious?” I thought. “Yes, a bit,” came my reply.

“Tired of Christmas?”

His question caught me off-guard.

“Um, maybe just…generally tired. Currently and more specifically, my feet are tired. And I fully expect, after all the shopping is done, that my bank account will be somewhat worn as well.” A few moments of silence passed between us, and I spoke again, surprised by my own words. “Yes, perhaps I am a little tired of Christmas. I’m tired of what it has become.”

“Ah!” he said, then gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t think you mean ‘tired of what it has become’ as much as you mean ‘tired of people attempting to make it something else.’ Because Christmas has always been only what it is. Nothing more or less than that. A birthday, you know?”

At his words, my thoughts instantly flashed back to my Sunday School class as a child when I first heard the details of the birth of Jesus. I remembered, a few years later, my heartfelt repentance and surrender after hearing the message of redemption, forgiveness, and restoration. But now, decades removed from that moment, I felt as though I was only going through the motions: attempting to push myself upward – closer to God – only to roll back down again. Quite honestly, every Christmas stood as a marker in that descending cycle. And every year, I seemed to miss God more. “Jesus,” I said in a whisper. “He is the meaning. I know that.”

“You know him,” my nameless companion stated. Then he added, “I do too.” Shifting his shoulders, he looked at me more directly. “Do you know what is more stunning than being able to say that you know him? It’s being able to say that he knows you! Isn’t that a marvelous thing?”    

That thought seemed distantly familiar but fleeting still. I smiled weakly. “Yes,” I said. “I suppose that is a good thing.”

“He knows you,” he said again, in a singsong, yet emphatic, manner. “And he became you.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t mean he became you specifically. But he became human. Jesus did. That’s Christmas.”

“Right, right. Like ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem, how still –”

“Bethlehem!” he interrupted. His eyes danced as he said the name. “Have you ever been there?”

“No, I haven’t.” Then, almost afraid of the answer, but too curious to avoid asking, I ventured the query: “Have you?”

“Oh…yes,” he said in a long whisper leaning toward me with a nod. “It’s changed a great deal over the years. But many of the old landmarks are still there. If you stand atop the city, you can look down into the valley where those shepherds were on that first Christmas. Those shepherds…”

My well-traveled conversationalist warmed to his theme.

“Can you imagine how terrifying it was for them? One minute you are standing in a field in the middle of the night, and the next, you are surrounded by the brilliance of the glory of God as you receive the birth announcement of the Messiah. What a night that was! The lowly and isolated – smelling of livestock and in their same, old routine – are the first to hear that God has become one of them. ‘I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger…Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!’”

He stopped abruptly and stared down at the polished hardwood floor, lost in the moment.

“Who am I dealing with here?” I asked myself. “Pastor? Priest? Philosopher? Professor?”

“Impressive,” I said. “Reciting that from memory.”

“Some things,” he replied. “You just don’t forget.”

Silence fell between us as we watched a new rotation of chattering, wide-eyed shoppers file along with great anticipation. My Bible-quoting companion interrupted the lull.

“Did you know that many mangers in those days were hewn from stone?”

“No. I did not know that.”

He continued with a smile. “The mangers – the feeding troughs – made of stone. Pretty common back then. Shepherds couldn’t miss that one. No other baby was lying in a manger that night. No, just one. The One. All those details. So very specific. Wrapped in cloth; laid in stone. The shepherds visiting The Shepherd. This newborn, Eternal King ‘whose goings forth are from old.’

“But he didn’t stay there in the manger. He grew into a man. The God-man. And then to the Cross. Without sin, perfect before his Father, ‘without blemish or spot,’ but treated as if guilty of it all. Jesus in your place. Your sin upon him. And, by faith, his right standing upon you. The sacrificial Lamb who ‘takes away the sin of the world.’ You can trace it through. The occupied manger points to the occupied Cross, which points to the empty tomb. Wrapped in cloth; laid in stone.”

He shook his head, still smiling broadly. “How utterly staggering it all is! I enjoy looking into these things. Every day, there is always something more! Wonderous, wonderous things.”

He then silently and thoughtfully busied himself by slowly twirling a loose end of yarn at the cuff of his sweater.

Staring hard at him, I could not deny it: I envied this man. His passion. His grasp of concepts. Every word spoken with unruffled confidence.

I felt envy, wistfulness, and a fair measure of regret.

But there was more lurking inside. A faint longing, the intensity of which had grown as the conversation progressed. It felt like thirst. Not physical thirst, mind you, but something much more desperate.

I spoke, surprised to hear my voice nearly crack under the burden of my own vulnerability before a total stranger, but I needed to know.

“How do you do it? Maintain this level of – whatever you might call it. Joy? Peace? Hope? Spirit?”

“You mean about Christmas?” he asked.

“I mean all of it,” I countered, waving my arm in a wide sweep. “Christmas and the other 364 days and life and things seen and unseen – the sum total. How do you make sense of it? Seeing it for what it really is and yet keep going? To want to keep going? And to do so with such an attitude? Tell me.”

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at me. “You know.”

Before I could open my mouth in protest, he raised his index finger to stop me. “Permit me this: an object lesson.”

He rose, moved from our little sphere, and gracefully crossed the orbits of numerous patrons. Walking directly to a large Christmas tree on display in the store, he deftly reached among the boughs and removed an object before making his way back to the couch.

He held what looked something like a cotton ball, or maybe a piece of batting often used as fake snow. He rolled it back and forth in his palm.

“Wool,” he said, having read my confusion correctly. “From a sheep.”

My eyes darted to the Christmas tree, then back to him. “But, how do you know it’s wool? You found it in the branches. And how did you know it was there anyway?”

“Oh, I put it there. I sometimes do. Not just in this tree, but in lots of them.” He seemed almost giddy to share this secret with me.

“But why?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you why, but for now, our object lesson. That first Christmas came at a dark time. Not just the night, but spiritual darkness as well. Sin does that – separates, confuses, obscures. The world into which Jesus came ached and waited for deliverance. You only need a Savior if you have something from which to be saved. 

He held up his hand again, allowing the woolen ball to trace the lines of his palm. “It’s all here. All of it, in his hands, working according to his plan. A broken world full of scattered and lost sheep. The Shepherd-King made his appearance, and the other shepherds made his arrival known. His sheep hear his voice, and they follow him.

“You have heard him. Remember? ‘For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.’ Washed clean. ‘Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.’

“And that also answers your question as to ‘why?’ Because under all the trappings and décor and parties and shopping, there is this greatest of any and all gifts ever given – The Christ-Child, the God-Man, The Good Shepherd, The Coming King, The Lamb Who is Worthy.”

I sat in stunned silence. On the table before me lay the toy truck turned on its side. In the chair sat the boy’s mother with her child in her lap. His head, with eyes closed, rested against her sweater, as she stroked his hair and rocked him ever so gently.    

My new friend’s voice spoke again, this time it seemed far away, yet closer than a thought, “You just forgot. You needed a reminder. For you, a reminder; for me…more of a souvenir.”

I turned. He was gone. I looked around quickly, but he was not to be found among the faces in the shifting crowd. His departure was as mysterious and unseen as his arrival. How fitting.

But next to me, nestled in the indentation formed by one of the buttons of the couch, lay the small ball of wool.

I picked it up, held it in my palm, and rolled it in a slow circle.

“Good news,” I whispered. “Good news, of great joy, for all the people.”

Just then, I heard a creak in the hardwood flooring, followed by a slight shift in the sofa underneath me. A young man sat down heavily in the recently vacated space to my right.

He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then checked the time.

“Shopping?” I asked him.

“Oh. No, not me,” he said. “Just…waiting.”

_______________________

Luke 2:7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 8 And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. 10 And the angel said to them, "Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12 And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger." 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 14 "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!" 15 When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us." 16 And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. 17 And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. 18 And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. 20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Micah 5:2 “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah,
who are too little to be among the clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
one who is to be ruler in Israel,
whose coming forth is from of old,
from ancient days.”

Isaiah 7:14 Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

Galatians 4:4 But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law…

Matthew 1:21 “She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

John 1:14 And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.

Hebrews 2:14-15 Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.

Philippians 2:8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

1 Peter 1:18-19 Knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot.

John 1:29 The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”

John 17:3 And this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.

1 John 5:20 And we know that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true; and we are in him who is true, in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.

Romans 3:23-24 For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.

2 Corinthians 5:21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Romans 5:8 But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

John 3:16 "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”

1 Corinthians 15:3-4 For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures…

John 10:21 “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”

Galatians 4:9 But now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and worthless elementary principles of the world, whose slaves you want to be once more?

1 Peter 2:25 For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

Isaiah 1:18 “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
they shall become like wool.”

Revelation 5:11-13 Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!" And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, "To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!"

1 Peter 1:10-12 Concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired carefully, inquiring what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories. It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you, in the things that have now been announced to you through those who preached the good news to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look.

Hebrews 13:2 Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.