T’was the Night Before Christmas

Christmas Eve is a particularly special day for me since it was on that day that my life changed forever. 

Holidays can be just that….holy days.  So it proved to be in my life.

It was Christmas that would change my life ….a life in desperate need of change.  Having no background in anything remotely related to religion of any kind, I was a lost soul.  My upbringing never included any church attendance, religious training, or instruction in even the simplest ideal of right and wrong.  The only recollection I have of anyone’s attempt to guide my behavior was my mother’s constant admonition to “be sweet”….which I failed to heed.  Along the way one inevitably hears references to God or Jesus.  Being completely uninformed, I can remember wondering, “What’s the difference?”    Without any restraints I grew up to be progressively more selfish, reckless, and hard-hearted.  I can never remember feeling guilt, shame, or regret, and certainly not tears…until that one fateful holiday.

It was Christmas Eve when I accompanied my mother to a party she’d been invited to at a friend’s house.  Rather than both of us spending the evening alone I planned on attending the party with her, then staying at her house for the night and together heading out early Christmas morning for the three hour drive to my sister’s home.

I knew no one at the party.  It didn’t matter.  I was hardly feeling festive, or feeling anything for that matter…or so I had convinced myself.  Recently I had come as close to actually caring about something as I ever dared.  It had petrified me.  I was so afraid of being hurt that I struck first.  I had been unthinkably cruel to protect myself.  I didn’t know it then, but I refused to be vulnerable.  So it was appropriate that I was alone at the holiday party that night.  I had chosen to be.  I was fine.

Having no Christmas cheer to spread, I slowly made my way through the sprawling home admiring the endless decorations.  Wandering from room to room I was curiously drawn to the one thing common in every room….a manger scene.  I paused and gazed at each one, thinking nothing in particular.  The figures had no meaning to me.  I did not know the story.  Nevertheless, I found myself standing before them as though mesmerized.  Completing my tour landed me in the den which by then was empty of guests.  Again another manger scene, but as it turned out…I was not alone.  Oblivious to my surroundings, captivated by something unknown, something spoke to me clearly,

 “That little plastic baby in that little plastic manger is your answer.”

I felt something begin to break deep inside me.  The sensations were nearly overwhelming.  What was this?   Whatever it was I needed to keep it under control.  I had to escape.  Making my way to the kitchen where my mother and the few remaining guests were gathered, I suggested that we leave.  She told me several of them were considering going to a midnight mass and wanted us to go along.  I didn’t know what that might entail, but I did know that whatever was happening inside of me would not stay suppressed in an environment like that.  It was not an option.  I insisted that we leave.  Seeing I would not be persuaded otherwise, she gave in to my urgency and we took our leave.

In the car my mother began to question what was going on.  I would not speak.  I dared not speak anything except, “Take me home”.  She reminded me that the plan had been to stay at her house.  Little did either of us know just how drastically my plans were being interrupted that night.  Surely wondering what had come over me to cause such stoic and strange behavior, she again selflessly gave in to my demand.

I could not get inside fast enough.  As I burst through the door I burst into tears.  Tears that had not only been fiercely resisted for the last hour, but tears that had been suppressed for years.  This night all my control, all my hardness had given way to…what?  Who?  I don’t remember crying about anything in particular.  It probably wasn’t so much what I would have been crying about as much as Who I was crying to.  I didn’t know.  I wasn’t aware that anything supernatural was happening.  All I knew was that I was uncontrollably crying, and crying….

I must have fallen asleep there on the floor in front of my Christmas tree, for that is where I found myself the next morning when I awoke.  And what an awakening it was.  I could not believe how different I felt.  Something had definitely changed.  I was as light as a feather, like I had been relieved of a tremendous weight.  And for some reason I was full of joy.  I had no idea why, but I was about to find out in a most unusual way.

When my mother arrived she must have wondered in amazement at the dramatic change in my demeanor from just hours ago.  I certainly could not have explained it, for I was just as clueless.  As we set out on our trip that Christmas morning I reached over and picked up the daily newspaper that was lying on the console.  What I proceeded to read was news in the truest sense of the word.

On the front page of the paper that morning was an article written as though the reporter had been in Bethlehem the day Jesus was born.  It not only recounted the story of His birth, but by quoting John 3:16 it also explained the reason He had come.  Reading that newspaper that morning gave me answers I had been without my entire life. And it gave me even more.  For then I realized that the little plastic baby in the little plastic manger had become my Savior, and that truly, something holy had happened to me…the night before Christmas.

Behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. “This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”