Barefoot Bellringing

I promised I would post about Christmas Eve and this was certainly a memorable year. My Mam was visiting which made it that much more special. In the community where I live, the “Santa Parade” is only about four floats, including Santa, and it happens on Christmas Eve. It’s not likely a big deal for anyone but those of us who live here, but watching my Mam’s face as the parade went by was priceless. She was like a little child, face filled with awe and wonder. She had a sandwich in each hand and was yelling for the parade to wait for her as she ran to the front door.

Our 4:00 p.m. service is our Pyjama Mass and we’re getting more and more children each year. We had two new families join us and it was evident that about 10 minutes into the service, I had lost all control. Usually this causes me tremendous stress, but not at that service. It is the children’s service and they are in charge. We had a scavenger hunt, looking for the characters for the Nativity. Baby Jesus was found and the Holy Family was put in the crèche. The Wise Men were put at the back of the church to begin their journey.

We told stories, sang songs and celebrated communion. A child was in the arms of every adult present as we gathered around the communion table and shared in the Lord’s supper. I stopped frequently, deviating from the propers, to explain what was going on. The children raised their arms and their voices in prayer and praise. We shared the body and blood of Christ. And it was awesome.

Our 7:00 p.m. service was a service of family. There were only a few children with us (including twins who had been to the 4:00 p.m. service). We shared stories, a sacred meal and awaited the birth of the Christ Child.

By 11:00 p.m. I’m usually fading a bit and the energy level is definitely lower than the other two services. I was excited to see friends I’ve not seen for a number of years. I was excited to see parishioners who returned after a noted absence. And I was delighted to see two and three generations of family coming together, to worship on the most sacred night of the year.

A 6 year old boy called Ian came to church with his Dad. Why a young child would be at church at 11:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve is anyone’s guess, but I believe that God sent him. Ian helped me, with permission from his dad, to light the Christ candle in the Advent wreath. He decided to stay and hang out with me in the sanctuary and seeing our service through his eyes was astounding.

When it was time to proclaim the gospel, I asked Ian if he would hold the book for me. And he agreed. So I knelt down and shared the story of the birth of Christ, according to Luke. And it was awesome. Ian stood on a stool to watch as the meal was prepared. He helped me distribute communion, and at the end of the service he said he wanted to ask a question. I told him to go ahead. He stood up and said “What I wanna know is this…what would you rather have. Toys under the tree or Jesus”? Not a word was spoken.

I asked for a show of hands, and most folks wanted Jesus…some put up both hands. I said that was cheating.

I thanked God for Ian coming into our little parish church. I thanked God for the families who gathered to be with us. I thanked God for the strangers who had decided to bless us with their company. And I especially thanked God for the gift of Jesus, the greatest gift. Whether under a tree or anywhere else, the greatest gift, ever!