A Not-So-Cozy Christmas

My wife is super lucky to have a shopping partner like me. I can peel open those clingy produce bags almost as fast as she can drop in the zucchinis and peppers. I’m about 90% on picking the good melons. And we can usually find the expiration dates on items when we squint together.

Once in a while I wander off, though, which can be a problem since the cart wanders with me. The last time I did I ended up in the nut section. (No snarky comments please. It’s the Christmas season. However, since it is, I’ll probably forgive you if you can’t resist.)

What had caught my eye was a bag of nuts still in the shell. Where they would take me had to be due to Christmas magic. Since you’ve already invested some of your precious time reading this, you might as well go with me.

You will have to use your imagination, though. Here goes: The font in this paragraph is getting blurry. Waves are passing through it. Now it’s zooming in and out. Strange music is coming from somewhere. You are traveling through time with me to my childhood home.

The house is decorated for Christmas. The pine boughs on the fireplace mantle are real. So is the tree. Paula, Lloyd and I made some of the ornaments that hang from its branches. Yuck, mine don’t look near as good to me now as they did when I made them. Oh well, Mom and Dad seemed really proud of them.

We made our own popcorn garland. Mom’s pan worked overtime because only 20% of each batch made it to the string. I see you’re admiring the perfectly placed silver tinsel. I do remember helping to place it. Mom and Dad obviously followed behind me.

You probably smell the apple pie. It has a handsome handmade crust that will soon be topped off with homemade ice cream.

We’re finally to the nuts. See them on the kitchen table? Back then we worked to get to the prize. Dad had to help us crack some of them, especially the Brazil and hickory nuts, but we kids dug out the meat ourselves. My favorite was hickory nuts, probably because I gathered them myself. They took some extra digging, but it paid off.

Unfortunately, we don’t have time to sample the popcorn or pie, or even grab a pecan. Bonnie has tracked me—and her cart—down, several items in hand. She’s no longer a happy shopper. Quick, it’s time to use our imagination again. The font is starting to get clearer. The waves are no longer passing through the paragraph. It’s not zooming in and out anymore. The strange music has stopped. We’ve arrived back in the present.

I love going back to my childhood Christmas, but I still enjoy the season here and now. I decorate the house outside while Bonnie handles the inside. (I’m maybe not as helpful in the house as I am in the grocery.) She’s made about two dozen of the ornaments on the tree. Our neighbors were over and remarked that our living room looks like a Hallmark Christmas card!

There’s something else that hasn’t changed much for me over the years. It’s that emptiness I am prone to feel after the last present is unwrapped, the Christmas music ceases, and the decorations come down. Neither childhood memories nor Hallmark can fill it.

I am being more intentional this year in experiencing a Christmas that will last beyond the season. A few mornings ago I was reading the Christmas story. I stopped and gazed at the beautiful nativity in our living room. As I sat and wondered at it, the manger started to blur. Waves started . . . well, you know the drill. I reached my destination and the scene came into focus. I still had to rub my eyes, though, when I beheld the setting where the first Christmas took place.

Wow, it really did happen in a cave like I’d been reading about.* Even though there was a fire at the entrance, it was chilly. I pulled up my collar and shivered. There was no wooden manger, but a group was gathered by a wall. There, chiseled into the stone was a feeding trough, and in it, on a bed of straw, lay the Baby.

Shepherds were present. A herding dog was barking a sheep back into place. Other visitors and travelers were seeking shelter there as well. It was anything but silent in this place. And, whew, did it smell!

I stood amazed. It’s almost as if God said audibly, “Here’s my gift to you. Enjoy.”

The scene became blurry. I wasn’t leaving yet; it was tears in my eyes. That God would send his Son to this cave as a Redeemer for me.

I’m going to keep studying about the first Christmas. My digging is being rewarded. Just like I have to crack those nuts, probe around, and find the meat inside, God is helping me discover meaty morsels this Advent season. Morsels that will last long after the crumpled wrapping paper and brown needles are tossed in the trash.

*Christmas—The Rest of the Story by Rick Renner

Feature photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash