I sat in the back of the darkened sanctuary- just a little bit late-
and tried to quiet my thoughts enough for the Christmas Eve message to
be heard.
Already this felt like a far cry from childhood Christmas
programs full of excitement and wonder. I sighed to myself, knowing
there was a full 45 minutes ahead.
I slipped off my coat and tried to silence the inevitable rustle.
There was no one to ease its progress and it fell, discarded across the
back of the folding chair, sliding down until it touched the carpet.
"Long
lay the world, in sin and error pining. 'Til He appeared and the soul
felt its worth. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices."
This, this I could understand. Not magic and wonder, but tired
aching and waiting. I sat, the phrase "at just the right time," soothing
through my mind. It eased, a quiet balm, as two men in front of me
started to wisp light touches over the neck and shoulders of the women
sitting next to each of them. They each leaned into the other, enjoying
the companionship and familiarity.
I prayed the lights would stay dim as I tried to focus
beyond the row ahead. Catching a betraying drop, I breathed out
again, remembering why I was there.
Thoughts wandering far from this familiar place, I breathed half-formed kyries through the mental eddies.
I focused again, catching a small New Zealander dressed as a ram for the Christmas story. I laughed, in spite of myself, and found my thoughts lifting.
The mountains of tinsel, glitter, and jolly mythological creatures have never been real. And they don't have to feel like they are.
A lonely, weary night.
Lonely, weary men and women.
All of creation screaming for redemption and rescue.
"At just the right time..."
Grateful for the rescue. Merry Christmas to all.
