*Blogreader friends: Today’s entry (penned yesterday) is lengthier than usual . I hope you’ll like the fictional narrative’s meaning. . . and spirit. Merry Christmas all.
Tobi William’s adolescent fingers fished through the kitchen drawer till one of them landed on the prize.
“Here it is, Trina”, the eleven-year-old chimed to his kid sister, “Your turn with the calendar!”
Trina took the Sharpie from the brown-haired boy who was a bare two years her senior. In a sweeping arm-wave of mock theatrics, Trina landed the sharpie’s point on the number 23. “There” she pronounced, “tomorrow night we sleep at Samantha and Caleb’s!”
High-fiving each other they bounded from the room.
Of course, as with most siblings, the two didn’t always see eye to eye. They had their occasional spats and their scraps. But, with special events like the one slated for the very next day, the harmony of the present would go unchallenged.
The two family’s homes lay just a mile apart with their respective neighborhoods, linked by Ozark Blvd.
The children’s parents had struck up an acquaintance with the Butler family through a random encounter 18 months earlier at a nearby park. The friendship deepened through shared interests, their common faith. . . and out of an instantaneous connection between the children.
Caleb and Tobi, for instance, lived to skateboard, a fact to which their legs and arms and other exposed surfaces of the body often bore witness. An impressive sampling of bruises and partially-healed pavement burns, along with the occasional bandaid dangling here or there at an elbow or shin or knee.
Tobi and Trina’s sleepover at their friend’s home was a departure from the ordinary. After all, who does this on Christmas Eve?
In this instance, however, the sets of parents themselves had set about contriving for the arrangement for just this once.
The Williams had learned that the Butlers had been enjoying a special practice – something to do with setting out a ‘treat’ in readiness of a coming ‘guest’. The items were arranged and placed on a small table near the Christmas tree. The serving was in place well before sunrise on Christmas day. Toby and Trina’s parents felt a Christmas experience in the home of their friends might give their young ones a special enduring memory.
Christmas Eve arrived! Each household enjoyed a nice mealtime to themselves.
At the Butler home a bit after dinner, Samantha and Caleb gazed out a window, studying the trickle of cars passing by their house. Then, seeing a quite familiar car roll into view (it was now around 9:00 pm.) the children danced and rushed outside. Tobi and his sister, laughing with their friends, were welcomed in.
Servings of fresh eggnog appeared. A few minutes later the children (with at least a couple of them bearing ‘milk-like’ rings about their lips) moved to a place near an old but decently-tuned piano. The singing of Christmas carols began.
“Okay, guys, Off to dreamland”, one of the parents announced. Their pajamas donned, the four friends headed upstairs for a reasonably good night’s rest.
“Are they all asleep?”
“Yes, seems like it.”
“I’ll have everything in place before sunrise.”
“Alright. Goodnight”.
“Nite”.
At Christmas dawn the house remained sweetly quiet. For the briefest of moments. Then. . .
“Samantha!” cried Trina, “it’s Christmas!”
With this the four children – in a hastening recovery from blurry eyes and sleepy yawns – made their way downstairs.
What their eyes met brought surprise that registered strongly on each face. It was not a surprise of awe or wonder, but one more of curiosity and puzzlement.
“Mom? Dad? You are here?” said Tobi. “But you dropped us off last night and we thought you. . .” his voice trailed and then picked up again, “and also, why are you guys and Mr and Mrs. Butler. . . why are you all sitting on the carpet there by the little table?”
“Yes, you’re sure right”, Trina’s mother laughed, “we did go back home and that is exactly where we slept. But”, she continued, “we couldn’t think of missing out on this”. Mrs. Williams was motioning to the small table.
The items atop the table that had been arranged on it seemed to be still intact, resting undisturbed beneath a tidy cloth covering.
By now the Williams and Butler children had drawn near – their eight collective eyes fixed on the little table and its modestly veiled burden. Mystery.
Samantha and Caleb’s dad spoke.
“Tobi and Trina, on this special morning, we wanted to have you and your parents – yes, and all of us together – to simply join in the celebration. Celebrating Jesus’ birth by remembering what he came to bring. . . you know, his Christmas gift. . .”
Mr. Butler paused, smiling. Then, pretending the look of a professor he asked,
“Now, tell me young students. . . what do you think that gift might have been. . . the one that Jesus came to give?”
After a brief silence, nine-year-old Trina raised a hand. Her already-widened eyes carried a twinkle as if a ‘spark of knowing’ had landed on her pupils.
Acknowledging Mr. Butler’s head nod, Tina declared, “He came and gave himself!”
“Yes! And that is why. . .” (here the host dad lingered), “Well, that is why that, after we open a few presents here in a little bit, we will all head to the Community Shelter downtown and share some food and clothing with our friends there”.
“Wow”, Samantha whispered.
“But first,” added Mrs. Williams, “let’s celebrate a birthday! . . We will need all you kids for a special part, OK?”
“Sure”.
“Great. Do you remember the part of the one Christmas Carol that goes ‘O Come let us adore him’?”
The children nodded.
“Well, us four parents need all our four children, that would be you, to sing that ‘O Come let us adore him’ part through just a few times softly while we – your moms and dads – receive of the Lord’s Table. In this way we will all be remembering and worshipping our savior, our wonderful Gift-giver the One who gave himself in life and in death. . and even now – living in and through us all.”
At this, the children of the Williams home and the children of the Butlers’ home slipped alongside each other, clearing their voices softly like vocalists sometimes do.
The adults, kneeling near the table, began sharing the communion elements together. The movements caught young Caleb’s eye,
Signaling toward the elements by a nod of his head he whispered to the others just loud enough to be heard,
“What our parents are doing there sure does beat leaving a couple cookies and some milk for a fat little elf dressed in red”. A collective giggle erupted. A fresh clearing of throats followed,
O come let us adore him. . . Chri-i-ist the Lord !🎶
©2024 Jerry Lout
