THROUGH A CHILD'S EYES
December 24, 2006 Christmas Eve Family Service
The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
Except for a few years where I became cynical about the commercialism of this holiday season and went around saying, “Bah Humbug!” in as many ways as I could – I have always loved Christmas – from the first day of Advent to Epiphany twelve days after Christmas – when it’s said that the three Wise Men paid their visit to the baby Jesus. In my family, we didn’t take our Christmas decorations down until that day, and I keep that tradition alive today – which is a good thing, since I often wait until almost Christmas Day to put them up!
But once they are up – and this year I was earlier than usual, by a couple of weeks – I relish them. I play CDs of Christmas and Solstice music; I turn on the Christmas lights; I place Santa Clauses all over my house – some of which do things when you flip a switch, like read “’Twas the Night Before Christmas, or dance to Jingle Bell Rock; I even have a Santa Claus band that plays a variety of Christmas Carols – as do my tree lights when you first plug them in.
I think that what has always drawn me to this holiday hasn’t been the presents received – though I know I looked forward to that as a child, and indeed, enjoy giving them to those I love today. (I wish I could tell you that I grew up thinking Christmas was primarily a time to do wonderful things for people I didn’t even know, and that gifts were an afterthought; but I would be lying.)
What drew me to Christmas as a child — as it does today – was the specialness of it. Waiting through those four weeks of Advent put us on the alert for something out-of-the-ordinary – something extraordinary – that might happen (just as it supposedly did all those centuries ago in Bethlehem).
The memories I still hold of Christmas are those that surprised us with something out-of-the-ordinary. Not that they were always great surprises. There was the year that our father forgot to make sure the fire in the fireplace was completely out before going to bed, and we children opened our stockings the next morning to find most everything melted – the chocolate candy, the plastic toys – anything that could melt did!
How could Santa have overlooked that situation, I thought? How could he not have noticed that the embers were still hot, and that he should either put them out himself or move the stockings? I suppose he was in a big rush, and he had more stockings to fill for our large family than for most, and we did leave quite a bit of pretty good food for him; so I guess I can see how he might not have been paying as much attention as usual. But I don’t think we kids were any too happy or understanding about it that Christmas morning!
But usually, the surprises were better than that: Like the year my older brother stayed up all night putting together a stereo system for the family. It was just when stereos had become available; the speakers were huge, and of course it was long before CDs or even audio tapes. What I remember is saying good-night to David late Christmas Eve as he sat on the floor of the living room, working with all kinds of wires and gadgets that I didn’t understand.
And then being awakened early the next morning by the sounds of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” filling the entire house – and it was a huge house! (It wasn’t what you’d call Christmas music, but I can’t think of anything better to show off a new sound system!) I rushed downstairs into the living room, and stood in silent awe at the richness of it. What a grand gift that was for us all that year.
UU minister Robert Fulghum writes that what he really, really, really wants for Christmas is to be a child again. “I know it doesn’t make sense,” he says, “but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child, of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and in me. Waiting behind the door of our hearts for something wonderful to happen.”
Whether our memories of this holy season are about spreading kindness to strangers, or blending the holiday traditions of Christmas and Hanukkah, or writing letters to Santa, or sharing poi and mahi-mahi with one’s Hawaiian family, or waking to the lush sounds of Tchaikovsky…may we never stop experiencing it through the eyes and ears of a child. No matter what our age, may we open ourselves to that child – the child whose birth we celebrate this season, the child sitting next to us so full of expectation, the child we’ve never met but who depends on us for hope, the child of our memories that remains a part of us. May we remain open to that child through all the days of our lives, and live with wonder and joy.
Amen.
© 2006 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
