Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I had cut back on nonessential obligations-extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.
My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant." I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation. All parents unable to attend in the evening were welcome to come then. Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise.
So, the morning of the dress rehearsal I filed in ten minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw several parents quietly scampering to their places. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor,. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song. Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas", I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. When my son's class rose to sing "Christmas Love", I was slightly taken aback with its bold title. Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and brightly colored snowcaps upon their heads. Those in the front row- center stage- held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song. As the class would sing, "'C' is for Christmas," a child would hold up the letter C. Then "'H' is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas is Love."
The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small, quiet girl in the front row was holding the letter "M" upside down. She was totally unaware that her letter "M" appeared as a "W". Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.
A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood; the reason why we were there, why we celebrate the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.
For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:
"CHRISTWAS LOVE"
And, I believe, He still is.
6 comments:
That is a great story. I was a little confused though as I started reading.
'She doesn't have a son named Nicholas' I though to myself!
The very beginning sounded like it could be a normal post for you and not part of the story, but then I figured it out...
My word is "gerative". Is that Like a narrative written by a really old person?(not you)
ha! Zach, you are funny. I like the word 'gerative'- your definition is perfect! I figured if you kept reading you'd get it. :)
I thought the same thing as Zach and actually went back to the begining a few times before I figured it out!! That really is a great story. And very, very true. That pretty much sums up the reason for the season doesn't it? Love you!!
Thanks for the story mom. I, too, thought it was one of your posts, especially with the picture of the three wise men. Thanks for sharing the story - a great reminder, as Amanda said, of the reason for the season.
My word is ouperich, is that a new word for an outpatient operation??
Put me down for thinking it was a normal post as well. I was going through all the kids names and couldn't remember a Nicholas to save my soul. Just keep reading, I told myself, and you'll get it. Then I did....nice story. I think the same as you every year. This was better than most. Hopefully next year will be even better.
That is a neat story!! Thanks for sharing! :)
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