December 1997
At the strip mall I entered a chain Christian bookstore I’d been to many times before. A Christmas tree with red bows and silver and gold ornaments greeted me. I was aware of the piped-in music because it was one of my favorite carols that played, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”. Whoever was singing had a rich, soulful voice, which transported me back to last Christmas.
Last Christmas we had our own decorated tree, expecting to spend Christmas at home with my brother and his girlfriend who had come to visit. But days before the 25th Daniel ended up in the hospital due to some unknown cause. He’d spiked a fever, was delirious, but although numerous tests were done, nothing grew in the Petri dish. Next Christmas will be different, I had thought, as I sat by his bedside reading books to him. Next Christmas he’ll be done with his protocol and we’ll be able to celebrate at home like a normal family.
We were now living next Christmas.
As the music in the bookstore continued, I walked down the aisles. One aisle was stocked with motivational books, books with titles that were all about how to increase your faith and trust Jesus in all things. Book after book. Believe, grow, love, trust!
I made my way toward the door, ready to leave. I'd been crazy to think that I could shop during this season. With a hand on the door, I paused. To my right I saw a table that had a sign on it: Discount.
Discount tables and I have always gotten along. I’ve never met a discount I didn’t like. On the table among plaques, and tree ornaments, a stocking hanger with the manger scene piqued my interest. There in the middle of the decoration was baby Jesus in the cradle with Mary and a lamb to the left of him. Joseph crouched by Mary and the three wisemen with their gifts were together. A donkey relaxed by the foot of the cradle. I picked the item up, turning it over in my hand. I noted the weight of it. It was a heavy piece.
As with anything that’s placed on sale, I want to know why. Peering closely, I saw the tiny star at the top of the hanger had a faint diagonal line underneath that didn't look like it belonged. Two of the points of the star were chipped. The donkey was missing an ear. The item had to have been dropped or hit; the star must have broken away from the rest of those below it. Someone had used glue to seal it back to the roof of the stable. I suppose the donkey's right ear was never found. I ran my fingers over all the edges and figures, over the defects. I had never had a stocking hanger before, but that was not why this decoration continued to stay in my hands. This object connected to me.
It belonged to me.
On the way home, I drove past homes with festive lights strung from eaves. Plastic blow-up snowmen and big, happy Santas waved from neighbors’ lawns. Wreaths graced front doors. Inside the windows I saw decorated pine and spruce trees, their twinkling lights bright and warm.
When I got home, I hung my new purchase on the mantle in the family room. I told my husband that the item was the beginning of a collection of Christmas decorations, decorations for the broken.
Next year, maybe it would be easier to breathe during the holiday season. Next year maybe the air would not be thickened with brokenness. But maybe not. There were no promises for an easy life; but there was the promise of Emmanuel always with us.
O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
