Christmas
But for Bethlehem…
Bethlehem. A small obscure town from antiquity chosen to play a starring role in God’s masterpiece: Peace on Earth.
Christmas means different things to different people. Not a new thought, nor original. Our nation has granted us this privilege of difference, or as some would insist, the right. The conflict between sacred and commercialized Christmas has been a mainstay in our culture. I have witnessed each side insisting on their viewpoint, often demanding they be heard like a child insists on getting their own way. This “shouting in the rain” is part of our heritage as a nation. We get to choose. We get to be heard. It’s almost as if the cessation of conflict would be abhorrent to us, undemocratic in some measure. We have the right to be different so we insist on it almost naturally.
We all have seen abuses on both sides. Things done in the name of “rights” and things done in the name of “Christ”. Just because we say it is in the name of something doesn’t make it so. And just because we say it louder doesn’t make it more true. I think we justify ourselves by doing this. We enable ourselves through this deception to actually do harm. Then… we play the democracy card to put the final stamp of approval on it
This is who we are as a people. We fight. We insist. We claim our rights. We push our agendas. We scramble to make a way to live our lives the way we see fit. We hurt others who disagree or get in the way We make laws to force people to comply. We shout down the opposition. We make things “politically correct” by way of the masses to ensure our dominance. We neglect, belittle and bully. We hate. We say, “This is our right.” We even do all of this over Christmas.
It’s sad to me, but not unexpected. After all we are people. This is what we do. We shouldn’t be surprised that when left to our own devices this is the best we can come up with to function. Left to ourselves we will only be as good as “we” can be. We have nothing else other than ourselves as a resource.
As a nation we are a mere two hundred something years old. In the vast span of man’s history this is nothing more than a blink of the eye. We are powerful. We are self-sufficient. We are self-governing. We are self-based. It’s in the constitution. I get my way. I have my rights. I am my own master. It’s what we do and who we are as a people.
As a family who does celebrate Christmas, we have never separated the sacred from the secular. We have enjoyed both sides of this event. There is nothing like watching the kid’s faces as they come into the room and see the presents around the tree on Christmas morning. We love gathering together on Christmas Eve and reading the Christmas story from the Bible. There is both a Christmas tree and manger scene in our home. We use wrapping paper that has Santa and the Three Wise Men on it.
I think about all our divisions and rights to things as people. I think about our abuses. I think about us being “self-made” It would really make me sad, and hopeless…but for Bethlehem. The answer to the questions, “Is this all there really is to life?”, and “Are we really alone in the universe?” have already been answered before we asked them. This is not all there is….there is: Peace on Earth. There is Bethlehem, and we have never been alone.
Merry Christmas to all of you and your families.
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A Klingon Christmas
It’s true. I’m a recovered TOS Trekkie. The proverbial “old school” Star Trek fan.
My ridiculous love affair with this pop-culture phenomenon finds it roots back in the late 70’s of the previous century. That being said… I shall say no more about it. This is about a little girl. A baby girl. A girl who loves to be close to the ones she loves.
Amber is our fourth child and third daughter. She is the evidence of God’s grace to us. After rocketing into our world at birth, she settled into a nice nuzzling routine of being physically close to us. She loved to be held. She never wanted to be far from either of us. It was obvious from the beginning that her love language was touch. She was always comforted the most when held.
Bedtime was no exception. Actually, bedtime was my domain. Marm had the kids all day long while I was gone. The night belonged to me, and I loved it, for the most part.
I don’t remember how it all started and that’s frustrating to me. Looking back I wish I had paid closer attention, but when you’re in the moment you just don’t think like that. What I do recall is the long-standing memory it created. When it was time to put Amber to bed I would take her to our room and walk her. Her crib was beside our bed. I would gently pace with her and then lay her down. She would promptly cry wanting to be held again. I would pick her up and walk her some more. She would fuss a little and I would start to sing to her. She would fuss and I would change the song. She would fuss again and I would change the song again, and you get the point.
It must have been around the beginning of the Christmas season when I stumbled onto the winning combination that would become the tradition. One night I started to sing White Christmas to her. She loved it! No, seriously, she L-O-V-E-D it! Who knew that a “wee babe in arms” would know the difference between song melodies, but she did. I would walk back and forth singing this song over and over and over again to her. If I changed the song, she fussed and refused to fall asleep. It was White Christmas and only White Christmas.
This was our ritual for the next year or so. Every night I would walk her and sing White Christmas. I would spend upwards of an hour each night holding her, singing to her, at times being frustrated with her because I was tired and she wouldn’t fall asleep as fast as I wanted her to. If she wasn’t fully asleep in my arms, I couldn’t lay her down. It was exhausting at times, and it was hard to do every day. It was also one of those magically special times that only comes around once. I would never have an opportunity like this with her again. I was able to hold, cuddle, talk, pray, and sing to my daughter every night for an hour. She was the proverbial captive audience. I don’t regret any of it, except my moments of impatience, and would jump at the opportunity to do it again.
It comes as no shock that to this day White Christmas is Amber’s favorite Christmas song. I don’t know when it was first stated , but its fair to say I was the one to appropriately coin the phrase, “She’s a Klingon.This was a term of endearment of course tossed her way because of the obvious. It was a long time before I would sing White Christmas again. I pretty much had my fill for a while. Now years later when I do hear it I smile and remember our Klingon Christmas bedtime. It was totally worth it!
Curls & Capes 