(Image below: Repose on the flight to Egypt). One of the most amazing paintings ever done of the real reason we celebrate Christmas.
I came to faith in Jesus as Messiah on Easter of 1977. I was 17 and working temporary administrative assistance jobs during my first Christmas as a believer. The week before Christmas I was at a shipping company near LAX. To say that I was on fire for Jesus would have been an understatement. I had morphed into the Christian version of Ricochet Rabbit with the gospel and I had I became outraged, OUTRAGED at the rank commercialism that Christmas had become! So, what did I do? I did what any red-blooded Jesus Freak who is on-fire for the Lord would do! I wrote a 2-page, single-spaced, typed diatribe about the REAL meaning of Christmas. I did it at home. I paid for the paper and the copies, and I handed it out at work on my lunch hour.
Needless to say, my temp boss was neither pleased nor amused. She called up the temp hire agency and complained then they called me and explained how ticked off she was. I was undeterred but I was also asked not to come back.
During my childhood, my mother steadfastly refused to get a "Chanukah bush". So, ours was the only dark house on the street with no Christmas lights, no tree and no cheer. Instead, I went across the street to my playmate's house (Kenny) whose family was Italian. His mom would have a big pot of homemade spaghetti simmering on the stove and Christmas Eve they let me help to decorate and trim the tree including all the messy silver tinsel. The next morning, I would be over bright and early to watch them open presents. (At that time, neighbors did not get the playmates gifts like parents nowadays would do.) Their entire living room floor was covered in gift-wrapped presents. I was content (and a bit pea-green) watching Kenny open up gifts like a Lionel Train Set and Slot Car racing set. I was basically a tomboy, so I loved playing with them along with the real steel Tonka trucks! I remember wishing that Santa Clause would overlook the fact that I was Jewish and surprise me one Christmas morning with a decorated tree and presents (to no avail). The closest my family came to acknowledging Christmas was watching Rudolph the Red-nosed reindeer on television. (Norelco shaving commercials and all.)
In my late teens and early 20's Christmas was a lonely affair. I had no friends, and my family would go to visit my sister and husband in Sacramento, and I would be alone and without the $ to afford any Christmas decorations let alone gifts for others. I remember one particular Christmas when I was 21, laying on my couch and sobbing next to the one and only Christmas-y decoration I could afford (a candle) because I was completely alone Christmas Eve and Day. I cried as I asked Jesus to spend Christmas with me.
The following spring, I met my future husband, Michael and through him the Lord more than made up for my previous Christmas that past December! I had slept on his parent's couch Christmas Eve and when Michael thought I was asleep, he crept down the stairs to fill my new stocking with goodies from Santa. So, I was 22 when I got to celebrate Christmas with a family as an adult.
Fast forward to 1997. We had been married almost 10 years and Christmas Eve had brought home our adopted daughter, Karina, for the first time. All of Orange County was down with the flu including us so it wasn't until the family Noche Buena celebration a week after Christmas that we surprised everyone with our adorable three-and-half year-old daughter. 1998 was the first year I got to do Christmas with Santa Clause for my new daughter and because I had never gotten to experience it for myself as a child, I was determined to prolong it for as long as possible so I could experience it vicariously through her eyes. I managed to make it until she was 12 years old and she gave me a run for my money that year because the Polar Express movie had come out and Christmas Eve, I found a letter she wrote to Santa asking for a bell off of his sled. It nearly killed me, but I managed to get this just in time:
No, I have not fallen prey to the commercialism of Christmas as I once ranted about. Despite all the preparations and over commitments this year, my heart still belongs to Jesus in wondrous appreciation for all He did for us. The older I get, the more I appreciate His willing to come to this earth as a helpless baby in a cruel age without decent medicine or even basic hygiene. The song below by Amy Grant perfectly captures the true meaning of Christmas and is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. The first time I ever heard these verses I literally wept: "fragile fingers sent to heal us, tender brow prepared for thorn, tiny heart whose blood will save us, unto us is born...unto us is born." I dare you not to cry when you listen to it.
So, enjoy the holidays with your friends and family who really are the best gifts in life below the tiny babe who came to redeem us so long ago. He is the soon coming King and He wants YOU in His kingdom!
Merry Christmas!
Marlayne