Christmas in the Heart

Note: This story may be used in several ways:

• As a storytelling sermon, perhaps on Christmas Eve.
• As a choir musical program, with the inclusion of appropriate choir or solo music at the appointed places.
• As a congregational hymn festival, using the suggested hymns or others.
• As a Sunday school class session, with or without the singing.
• As a Sunday school program with each class participating by reading a section of the story or presenting a song.
• As part of a family stay-at-home devotion.
• For your own private enjoyment.

Christmas in the Heart

Weeks of looking at the Sears Christmas Wish Book and making gift lists were approaching an end. The letters to Santa had been sent, and it was time for the annual Christmas shopping expedition to the "city." For the family living in rural Iowa, the little town with the square at its center seemed a bustling city. The decorations on each corner street lamp seemed lavish as they flashed on and off in a blaze of orange, blue, green and red.

"People Look East"
(or for the more adventurous, "Silver Bells"
or "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas")

When the car came to a stop, Mother instructed Katy to feed the meter. She took the change as eagerly as a child headed for a video arcade and watched gleefully as the time on the meter changed with the addition of each coin! The traffic buzzed along the busy streets as Katy tried to keep up with Mother's long strides. Father and Bob were off with their lists, looking for gifts for Mother and her. That thought alone made her stomach do a flip flop! It made it all the more important to find just the right gift. She checked her list again as they hurried past the big department store, with its windows looking like Santa's workshop. In the window, she saw piles of professionally wrapped gifts with fancy bows under lavishly decorated trees. They looked nothing like the humble gifts she would wrap and place under their tree.

"What Gift Shall We Bring"
"In the Bleak Mid-Winter" (verse -- What shall I give him . . .)

After all the names on the Christmas gift list had check marks next to them, the packages were placed in the trunk of the old Ford. Once home, the family took turns wrapping their treasures and placing them under the tree. Katy and Bobby took turns shaking the packages and trying to guess their contents. For a time, gifts piled up under the tree like drifted snow. But as Christmas neared, most of the packages were delivered amid the flurry of visits to family and friends -- leaving just one gift from each person beneath the green branches that hung heavy with ornaments.

As the days drew closer to Christmas Eve, the pace of activity increased. A few days before Christmas Eve, everyone gathered in the kitchen to form an assembly line. Baking Mother's half bushel of sugar cookies was a yearly tradition. Trees, stars, bells, angels -- all received a coat of pastel icing and sprinkles before they were placed on platters and covered with cellophane and ribbon ready for delivery to the elderly or shut-ins. This was one of the Christmas traditions that Bobby especially loved. Standing outside an elderly member's home with the platter of cookies and singing a familiar carol -- that was truly Christmas.

"The Holly and the Ivy"
"Ding Dong Merrily on High"

The evenings that last week before Christmas were spent in front of the fire where Mother read Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." The candles were lit, homemade goodies were laid on the sideboard, and everyone settled in for the familiar tale. Nothing set the spirit of Christmas more than the Scrooge -- the tightfisted old curmudgeon who learned to keep Christmas and make people his business.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, everything was ready. The house was polished and shining. It was finally time to walk to church for the Christmas Eve service. Slipping into overshoes and coats, the family began the walk to church as the bell pealed out its invitation to come and worship Christ the newborn King.

"I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day"

Katy's sleepy eyes popped open as the icy air invaded her lungs. It had snowed earlier, melting just enough in the sun to re-freeze with the plummeting temperatures of night into a noisy crust that crunched underfoot. The family moved up the hill toward the old white church. Even though it was late, every home glowed golden against the moonlit snow.

They hurried up the steps and into the sanctuary. It was nearly time for the service to begin. The choir was assembling in the narthex, waiting next to the big box bulging with jars of peanut butter, boxes of macaroni and cheese, cans of tuna, and other items for people who were hungry at this time of the year. Katy stamped her feet to clear the last bits of snow from her overshoes before she set them beneath her coat hanging on the coat rack. Each time the door opened admitting another worshiper, a cold rush of air reminded her that winter had arrived. The choir began their introit.

"O Come, O come, Emmanuel"

The family slid into the dark wood pew. Daddy, handsome in his blue suit, smelled of Old Spice as Katy climbed onto his lap. Bobby disappeared with other children his age to become part of the pageantry of bathrobes, towels, and tinsel halos. There, where the altar usually stood, was the backdrop that just a few days ago had been on the kitchen table. The back of the oilcloth made a fine large canvas for the crayon which mother transformed into the night sky over Bethlehem and the beams of the manger.

Each year was like the last except for the ever-changing faces of the children who presented the pageant. Children always wondered what Santa might bring. Parents hoped that this Christmas would be perfect. The dinner, the guests, the reunions with distant family all would play out like a Hallmark movie. The congregation was settled, the lights dimmed, and the Chrismon tree glittered golden in the corner. With the choir now in its place and the first Scripture read, the children stood ready to fill the manger. It was a great tradition to make stately procession as the congregation sang.

"Once in Royal David's City"
"Hark! the Herald Angels Sing"
"O Come, All Ye Faithful"

First came the animals. The costumes were a bit shabby from years of use, but no one noticed in the dim stable light. Next Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus (a doll found at the last moment in the nursery would have to do) took their places in the manager; then just as in the story, the shepherds followed, taking their places with looks of awe. All the expressions on their faces reflected the shock of having seen a sky filled with angels singing.

"Angels We Have Heard on High"

The Wise Men walked with great dignity down the aisle bearing their gifts for the baby, singing . . .

"We Three Kings of Orient Are"

When all were in place, the angel would climb the ladder behind the backdrop so that it would look as if she were hovering above the manager, and a spotlight would illumine her with her tinsel halo glittering in the intense light. Then children would attempt the nearly impossible task of standing still. It was a tableau, a new word for most all of the children. It meant that you weren't supposed to scratch your nose, no matter how much it itched. You had to stand still while the minister gave his meditation on the meaning of this special night, through the lighting of the candles. Then during the closing hymn, "Silent Night," you finally got to lead the way out of the sanctuary, carrying the light into the cold night while the bells tolled the joyous news that Christmas had come! The miracle had happened.

"Joy to the World"

The minister spoke as the lights were dimmed. The Christ candle was passed to each of the apostles who passed the light until the whole room was ablaze with light. But for Katy -- long after the people carried the light out into the night -- there was a light burning. It did not come from the candles, but from somewhere more profound. This was the first Christmas in which the real meaning of the holiday took shape in her heart.

"Silent Night"

Copyright 2008 Karen McIntyre. Permission for any of the uses mentioned at the beginning of this article is granted with the inclusion of the complete copyright citation. This story may not be used for profit, republished, sold, or placed on a website.

Karen McIntyre is a public school librarian, author, and storyteller in Nashville, Tennessee. She may be contacted by e-mail at [email protected].