KNEELING AT BETHLEHEM

Silent Night

Not a creature is stirring

All is calm

These familiar phrases wrap this particular Christmas in a strange aura.

This 2020 season is so different from any other I’ve known. Last year we hosted not one, but TWO open houses here by this time.  We had not one, but TWO trees fully decorated and glowing.  

This year there’s no Christmas church program to direct, no choir cantata, no shopping for gifts, not even a tree.  Doug and I have a blank calendar without parties to attend. Sounds sad, doesn’t it?  But I’m not sad. Many folks are missing the normal hustle and bustle of Christmas.

I am not.

I am quiet, still.

Yes, it is different, simpler but maybe I hear and see Him even better this year.  He slipped into our world very simply, quietly too.  Lowing cattle were His only cantata.

Doug built this nativity. The Japanese maple hovers, like a scarlet canopy.

We did decorate the outside of our house so neighbors wouldn’t think us Scroogey.  A few weeks ago I announced, “Doug, I have the perfect gift for you this year!”  His expression was a question mark so I continued, “Let’s not put up a tree this year!”   

He genuinely shouted, “Hallelujah!”  To say he dislikes tree decorating is a huge understatement.  A few days later I voiced a mild change of heart.  He was having no part of that. 

My sweet mentor, Nancy Sandgren, scolded me, “You CAN NOT not have a tree up!  We’ll kick you out of Scotia!" A double negative from Nancy just means you better do it and pronto.   So she loaned me a little table top tree of hers, already lit.  Doug agreed to plug it in.  Done!  He can do 5 minute tree décor.

Terry Hill asked me to do door decoration judging.  How?  Virtually.  “The pictures will come to your computer, Kathy.”  So it’s a sofa task.  Can do.

Chaplain Linda asked, “Can you and Doug sing and play a few carols to broadcast on our TV channel for Christmas week? “  Sure.  So we did, with an iPad and a grand piano in an otherwise empty auditorium.  Doug invited unseen friends to sing along.  Maybe they will Christmas week.  Maybe.

All is still.

Quieter.

Some of our new friends are in pain.  Harry’s wife died a few days ago.  We knocked on his door as the sun set and prayed with him, six feet away and masked.

Our friend, Ron, lost his best friend to death last week.  I phoned him to offer condolences and prayed as he wept audibly.  Later I saw him in line for supper.  I broke both rank and rules.  I slipped up behind him and hugged him, my masked face to his back.  He mustered, “Thank you.”  I think it may be his first hug in months.  A lady in line behind us teased, “Ohhh, I’m telling.”  But she won’t, as her masked smile relayed.

No gold, frankincense nor myrrh this year.  Few gifts to wrap. Mostly checks and cash to family.  But sometimes it’s just a phone call, a hug, a poinsettia, a carol played and sung or a prayer we offer.  Quiet gifts.  In His name.

Doug and I both have wondered why we are enjoying this strange year.  Then the answer came yesterday.

It was Sunday afternoon as I sunned in the backyard, soaking up the last warm rays of the year.  Another dear mentor and friend, Linda McLester, waved and blew me kisses from two yards away.  She too was sunning from her swing.

Minutes later she came over and handed me a book.  “You know I adore your bones so I want you to enjoy this special book.”  We chatted, relishing the goodness of God and our blessings, as we often do.  She always mentions the woods and deer connecting our back yards.  We both see it as a gift from the Father of Lights.

After she left our love fest, I read half of the poetry book, Kneeling in Bethlehem by Ann Weems.  It’s an old book, written over 40 years ago.  With nowhere to go, nothing in particular to do, I savored each page and the message, so fitting for this quieter, stiller Christmas.

This Advent let’s go to Bethlehem

And see this thing that the Lord has made known to us.

In the midst of shopping sprees

Let’s ponder in our hearts the Gift of Gifts.

Through the tinsel

Let’s look for the gold of the Christmas Star.

In the excitement and confusion in the merry chaos,

Let’s listen for the brush of angels’ wings.

This Advent, let’s go to Bethlehem

And find our kneeling places.

That’s it!  The poet describes exactly why we’re enjoying this Christmas in ways never before experienced.  With the tinsel, bustle, chaos and sprees gone, the focus is clear, the message simple.

We have seen the Christ.

The one display we agreed to use this year fills our dining table and goes to the heart, taking us to Bethlehem that first quiet, simple Christmas.