And Finally, Sharing Christmas Part 3

We went to see the baby first.

I had diapers and a musical pull toy and the beautiful mobile from Elaine.

But Jack Morgan had so much more. 

How do I explain the sweet medicine of a babe in arms? And what joy to see his mother and father so in love?

Sometimes I feel sad that I’m not pregnant anymore, my sister-in-law told me. It’s hard to be separated from him.

I remembered how happy I was as I carried my boys. How I loved my body unabashedly for the first time because it housed such precious seedlings. I smiled at her and said as much. And we were quiet together, remembering. For just a moment. Because my older sister was there with her three girls and one of them brought her boyfriend, and then there were my two boys, my hubs, and the dog they call Archie. All in their small house.

It felt so good. But eventually we tiptoed away, just down the road to visit with my older brother’s family. And there were boys everywhere, another baby, and we talked about how another will be coming in the summer.

The morning slipped away. And my father was waiting.

The kids and I walked up the icy road while my sister and Jeff moved the cars. I thought fleetingly about the Bible and threw up a prayer.

How am I going to do this, Lord?

The entire hollow was crawling with my family. The last thing I wanted to do was make a big production out of this.

Just wait. I felt the words more than heard them. That hand on my arm again. And peace came. The Bible stayed in the van.

We all spilled into dad’s basement. We hugged hello—dad, my stepmom, all the rest of us and another niece who was there—my older brother’s only daughter.

Dad was smoking a cigarette when we came in. I tried not to think about the tank of oxygen that must be upstairs in his bedroom.

We made small talk for about an hour. The room was dim and the air heavy with smoke. Jeffrey made a move to go outside with my youngest niece. There were dogs out there. And snow. And mud. He was edging out the door when my spirit felt a nudge.

Tell Jeffrey to get Pap’s present, I said to Jeff, out of the corner of my mouth.

There was a brief lull in the conversation as Jeff followed our boy to deliver the message. Everyone else pretended they didn’t hear. We don’t give gifts in this family. It’s much too normal.

Jeff came back carrying the Christmas sack. He held it out to me, but I waved him off. I sat and prayed silently for the right time.

At some point my mother called my sister. She was at my little brother’s house (our starting point) with my younger sister (first time this character enters the play). I wanted to see my little sister, but, as my older sister and her family moved toward the door, I hung back. Jeff waited with me. Teddy was shuffling anxiously by the door.

Tell mom I’ll be right up, I told my sister as she said her goodbyes.

It was suddenly very quiet. I looked at my dad. He looked back with an expression that can only be described as wary. I reached over beside my husband for the Christmas sack and knelt down beside my father’s chair.

With two hands gripping that garish Christmas bag I looked my father in the eye so he would know. I wanted him to know that this is important.

I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, I said, as I pulled the Bible out of the bag. But I brought you a present.

I placed the Bible on his lap. I didn’t take my hands away.

I know our family hasn’t gotten a good start with you about this stuff…but…I didn’t know if you even had a Bible and I…I wanted you to have one.

He sat very still for a moment. Then he placed his hands on the Bible too and looked at me.

I think there are a couple up there. But I don’t read them. And I know that I should.

For a brief moment we were stuck…just held eyes.

I…I don’t know how you feel about this stuff…about God…

Well, I always just left that to other people, he said, looking away. I just figured I’d let people believe what they want to believe.

I wondered briefly if “other people” was my mother. And my brothers. And I remembered how it felt when I chose to walk away from the faith of my childhood. I remember feeling like I wasn’t good enough. That God didn’t want me. That if I couldn’t accept that particular religion then I couldn’t belong to him.

And I couldn’t accept that particular religion. So I walked away from him. And lost so many years. But He never let me go. I know that now. He loves me, no matter what.

And I wondered if anyone has ever told my dad that.

I took a deep breath and tried again.

When you told me you have cancer—even though I know it’s not that bad, it scared me. And it made me think about a lot of things. I know when Larry died it was very hard for you (my dad lost a close friend a couple years ago). I thought it was important to give this to you because…because I think you should know what you believe…and…and I just love you.

Well, I love you too, sugar, he said.

We held each other with our eyes again.

I hope you’ll read it, dad. Especially the New Testament. Start with John, they always say. That’s where the good stuff is.

He patted the Bible with one hand and cocked his head.

Maybe I will.

I was shaking all over when I hugged him goodbye. As we walked back up to my brother’s house, I said to Jeff, Well, that was just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I said everything wrong. I didn’t ask what I wanted to know. I didn’t get any answers. I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy.

You know what? Jeff squeezed my arm. You did all right. You did all right.

And today is the day of Epiphany--the day the Magi came from afar to worship the Christ child. This, a reminder that He is for all people. Maybe even for my dad.

“What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building…” (1 Cor. 3:5-9 NIV)

Related:


Sharing Christmas, part 1
Sharing Christmas, part 2