At first glance you might think I'm still in the middle of decorating and wrapping - but you would be wrong. I'm finished, except for a couple of gifts that Fed Ex is still carting around. I was unable to hide the festive extension cord hanging from the mantle, although I confess it wasn't really a priority (until I see it now from YOUR eyes). The decorations are limited to just a few unbreakables only, because our grandbaby will be at the top of this tree in zero to sixty just as soon as his little feet step inside the door. (And we can't wait!! Have I told y'all about our grandbaby??) Not only are there no pretty ribbons and bows on any of the packages, I didn't even use name tags; I know who gets what. I'm sure I'll remember, right? And look a little closer and you'll see a few boxes that aren't even wrapped. But all this is ok because that's just the reality of most of our Christmases. We love Christmas but sometimes it just doesn't translate well through our decorating.
My dad was a very practical man and didn't put much stock in the surprise element of Christmas gifts and Santa Claus. I remember one year my gift was a big rubber ball. He told me to go look in the truck for something for him, knowing I would, of course, see my present. It was wrapped . . . but not in a box, just with thin Christmas paper. I had bounced the paper off that ball before it ever even made it into the house. You usually knew what you were getting because he just didn't embrace the "pretty" element of surprise. One year when my boys were little, he put their gift in a toe sack and tied it so tight it was almost impossible to open. My mom, on the other hand, always made her gifts look so beautiful. Most times it was a struggle to come up with much more than a cheap five-and-dime store gift, but by the time she got it wrapped it looked like a million dollar present. So I never knew what to expect at Christmas just from looking at the wrapping, but that was half the fun of it from a child's perspective. Obviously I got the wrapping DNA gene from my dad from the looks of the gifts under my tree this year!
The kids were practicing their upcoming Christmas program Wednesday night while the non-singing adults had Bible study in the kitchen at church. I tried to keep my little brain geared to the lesson at hand, but I couldn't keep my mind from wandering as I heard those sweet voices singing "Away In A Manger". And just like that, suddenly I'm a first grader in my own Christmas program at Little Creek Church, trying with all my might not to get my burning candle too close to the Vance boy beside me. (Was it Ray or Bill? I can't remember. But I don't remember setting either one of them on fire. Some adult in charge probably just didn't think through the logistics of burning candles and small children. And all of us little angels with our tinsel halos probably ran circles with sharp scissors too.)
But that song - Away In A Manger - it just haunts me. Away. The King of all kings was born in a damp, dark cave and placed in a feed trough on a bed of hay. Away from what would have been expected for a king. Away from friends and family. Away from anything that even resembled comfort. This is in such sharp contract to any baby born in the United States in the last 100 years, much less the arrival of a baby of royal lineage. Christ's birth had been foretold by the prophet Isaiah seven hundred years before that life-changing night in Bethlehem. People expected a king in all his finery; they wanted their king to be all wrapped up nice and pretty, like a pretty Christmas present. But Our Redeemer was lying in a feed trough, in a barn, wrapped in swaddling clothes. (I'm not quite sure what swaddling clothes really are; the Chadwick boys called them squatting clothes. But I suspect that Mary didn't have a diaper bag with her, overflowing with gifts from a trendy baby shower.) I'm sure that those who were aware that a baby had been born there in Bethlehem assumed that this poor child must have been a "nobody".
Many people who are looking for Our Redeemer today might begin by looking at us first, watching to see if having Jesus in our lives truly does make a difference. What is our wrapping? Do we look all pretty in our finest outfits, but aren't quite so pretty once unwrapped? Are we wrapped up in the love of Jesus? Or do people have to get to know us pretty well before they peel away the layers of our outward wrapping to get to the message of Our Redeemer? But we all have our wrappings, don't we? It's easy to make decisions based on outward appearances sometimes, but just like a Christmas present, we have to unwrap it to see what's truly there. We need to be mindful of that familiar saying that we just may be the only Bible that some people read.
"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
And the tricycle that's under our pitiful Christmas display? At first glance you think there is no element of surprise whatsoever. But my Stanley has kept this tricycle all these years just for this occasion; he took it all apart, cleaned and repainted and polished until it was shiny bright again. Refurbished with pure love. This tricycle belonged to our oldest son and has logged many miles of pure happiness. And this year that tricycle will be given to our son's son.
It is what you see, but oh the love that has gone into this gift!!
Merry Christmas to those of you reading my words!! Love you all the way to Heaven!!