A Christmas Eve from my childhood really stands out in my
memory: I was maybe nine or ten years old when a mother of three young boys –
the oldest of whom was about my age – was killed on Christmas Eve morning in my
home town. She had stopped by a dry cleaner to pick up some cleaning, and as
she was about to get in her own car to leave, the driver of another car lost
control of her vehicle, and the mother was struck by the oncoming car as it
plowed into the parking lot. Her three young sons were all in the car as this
tragedy unfolded. The entire community was stunned by this family’s loss:
Television shows were interrupted for a broadcast of the news, and even the
news anchor was wiping away tears as he shared the story. We learned quickly
that the family lived not far from us and worshipped at the Methodist church
that was just a couple of blocks from our home.
For the next several days, I could think of little more than
those young boys. Like Charlie Brown, in A
Charlie Brown Christmas, I, too, was searching for the true meaning of
Christmas at that point in my life; I waited eagerly for the show to air each year, and watched it
attentively, but even Linus’ impassioned speech still hadn’t helped me
comprehend its meaning. And envisioning the sorrow in that nearby household
left me at even more of a loss.
I finally asked my mother if I could take my allowance and
buy the boys some cookies, just something to take to them to say that I was
sorry for their loss, that lots of other kids were grieving with them, that even in the midst
of all of the emptiness that they were experiencing, they were all still
loved. My mother suggested that since we didn’t know the family, perhaps the
best thing that we could do was pray; she felt certain that people who knew
them had taken them more than they could use. I remember reading Luke’s account
of the Christmas narrative before falling asleep, and offering prayers that the
Christ Child would bring the best gift of all – healing – to the broken hearts
of a grieving father and sons who were certainly expecting Christmas to be
something very, very much different. My prayers, though, still didn’t feel like
“enough.”
I’ve thought about those three young boys every year at
Christmas. For them, and for others for whom Christmas may be a reminder of
loss, it is especially important that the light of Christ be ever burning in
our lives. Sharing that light of God’s promise of hope and love in a world in
which there is far too much darkness is the best gift that we can offer to
those who cannot see the light. Slowing down in the midst of the busyness of
our lives to offer a smile, a hug, a phone call, a visit, a hand to hold, a
word of encouragement, or time to share a prayer together – helps to remind us all of
the One who came to dwell among us and bring healing and peace, and keeps the
gift of the Light of Christ burning.
Please look for every possible opportunity to share the
light; and pass on the light that is shared with you. God is counting on us all.
Said the king to the people everywhere,
“Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people everywhere!
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child sleeping in the night,
He will bring us goodness and light!
He will bring us goodness and light!”
From “Do you hear what I hear?” (lyrics by Noël Regney)
