I am now officially in the Christmas spirit. Getting a gigantic Christmas tree home did the trick. Katie and I drove to a tree lot on Friday night to pick one out. We wanted to go to a tree farm and cut one down ourselves but schedule wise, this was far easier. But it was a brave idea considering how long it took us to saw off the bottom of our tree last year. I still have the circle of wood we were so proud. I’m not sure how long it would have taken to actually cut one down. Perhaps next year. We discussed our choice before we got there. We had the same priorities, just in a different order. She wanted an affordable one and I wanted a big one. We both got what we wanted though it looks quite a bit bigger at home than it did at the lot. At home, it’s HUGE and we both love it. It’s the biggest tree either one of us has ever had and we could do it because we have vaulted ceilings baby. Oh yeah. Not having a truck, we decided to strap it to the roof of my car. Luckily, there was a branch hanging over the front window so we would know if it was falling off. Never having driven with a tree strapped to the top of my car, I was being very careful until Katie starts freaking out, “It’s moving, it’s moving!” Sure enough, the branch had moved but you could still see the branches in the back window so I kept going. Being rather mischievous though, as we were driving past the grocery store, I yelled, “It’s moving, it’s moving!” and enjoyed her reaction for a second until I told her I was joking. That’s what she gets for having me drive with a Christmas tree strapped to my roof.
When we got the tree home, quite a job getting it up to the third floor, we placed it in the tree stand and became appreciative of all those years our parents straightened the tree. As Katie made adjustments underneath, I heard her say some very unladylike things and when I asked what was the matter, she said she saw a spider. Katie hates spiders. I’m the one called to kill them around here. A few minutes later, some more choice words left her mouth, and a little after that, I saw a spider crawling on me. Without thinking, I blew it off my arm and only then realized Katie was right below me. I wisely didn’t say anything.
On Saturday, I attended a play, “The Best/Worst Christmas Pageant Ever” and it truly was the best Christmas pageant ever. If you have never read the book, you ought because it’s great. I went with some women I know and we kidnapped one of my friend’s mom to come with us. One part of the play is still in my head. These wild kids, the Herdmans, were fight and tossing around the baby Jesus doll until a mother who was directing the pageant took it away in a fury of outrage. Everyone left but her and Imagene who was playing Mary. Someone sang a solo while the Mother, Grace, reverently held the baby, put it back in the manger, wrapped the blanket around it and placed it in Imagene’s arms, moving the girl’s arms to show her how to hold it. She then held her face and kissed her on the forehead and left. The look on Imagene’s face was incredible as she sat there and held the baby and I don’t know about others in the audience, but I had tears running down my face. It was so beautiful and powerful.
This image has stayed with me since. Even as I write, it is still in my head. I told Stacey and Danica about it last night at Irish step dancing class. I was surprised but pleased Stacey still wanted to hold the class even with the snow starting to fall again. After all, I thought, how much can it snow in one hour? Uh-huh. Two inches is the apparent answer I’m glad I went. We had fun and what is better than dancing, snow, friends, and great music? Not much. Still, I slipped and slid home, even sliding nearing ninety degrees at one point. I was scared but trying to keep a cool head so I could get back safely. Stoplights were hard. By the time I got home, I was shaking and still trying to get over that drive. Though the state offices where I work are open today, I decided to stay home and stay safe. It’s still really icy out there and I don’t want anything to happen to me. I’m thinking I will catch the city bus tomorrow. Last night Katie decided to stay at her sister’s in Keizer instead of trying to go across town and a friend of hers decided to come here instead of trying to get home to Mt. Angel in the foothills. So Tina and I decorated the tree and it’s beautiful. Stacey got home safely too. The only vehicle to make it up a steep hill in fact. I was relieved when I talked to her.
It’s nice to have a free day to work on odds and ends that have hanging around my neck. I’m still waiting to hear back if we have play rehearsal tonight. If we do, I’ll just catch the bus into town and get a ride home from someone. Brrr… it’s cold. This is the earliest storm we have had in a really, really, long time. Here is to another weird weather winter! And Merry Christmas!
I think I have told you what I learned while in Israel about how screwed up is our traditional Christmas story. Learning the word translated “inn” means nothing near our Motel Six interpretation and what the floor plan of any (and essentially every) home was like adds some significant meaning to the birth of Yeshua ben Yosef. It would be nice to see it done “properly” just once.
I have read of many churches celebrating Christmas with Pageants that include an actual baby portraying the role of ‘baby Jesus’. Our first child Ruth, was born December 12th, 1981 and was chosen to be ‘baby Jesus’ for our church’s (Reba Place Fellowship) Christmas Eve service. Last year, our grandson, Charlie, born on Oct. 19th 2008, was chosen, also at Reba Place Fellowship. But in prison no such ritual exists.
I wasn’t even thinking about babies being in Christmas plays back in 1972. This was yet another year in prison, the difference being this was my first Christmas as a christian. The Christmas service held new meaning for me as we sang the traditional Christmas Carols bringing with it a hope for a new life with a redeemed future. Christian volunteers were a part of our service at the U. S. Medical Center for Prisoners in Springfield, Mo.
As our service wound to completion a cry was heard. The faint
whimpering of a baby. My first thought was that I wasn’t hearing what I thought I had heard. I had been in prison for many years and had never even seen a baby inside of a prison (not counting my infrequent times in the visiting room.) But there it was again, a baby crying. Someone, a volunteer, had brought their baby into the service wrapped in a blanket unnoticed by the guards. I then thought, there was our ‘baby
Jesus’. The parents of the yet unknown child were the children of an older couple (Lloyd and Nita Colbaugh) who had only a few years previously began their ministry to the prison. Even the great-grandmother, (Mom Carter) was a volunteer and had played a significant role in my own conversion, telling me that God had a plan for my life.
Life would go on and the incident of ‘baby Jesus’ coming to prison would fade to a memory, until the baby grew up and now is known throughout many countries far and wide as acclaimed Christian
singer/songwriter Sara Groves.