Christmas Absence
Stories
Object:
Contents
A Story to Live By: "
Christmas Stories: "Christmas Presence" by Janice Hammerquist
"Silver In His Soul"
"www.ChristmasHouse" by John Sumwalt
Scrap Pile: Great Prayer of Thanksgiving for Christmas Eve by Thom M. Shuman
What's Up on Christmas Eve
As our holiday gift to you, we want to share some of our favorite Christmas stories in this special edition of StoryShare, which includes John's newest story, "www.ChristmasHouse." This is a very difficult time of the year for many among us -- especially the bereaved and those who find themselves alone at a time when they were always surrounded by family and friends. Coping with loss at Christmas is the theme that runs through the stories in this special Christmas Eve StoryShare.
A Story to Live By
Christmas Absence
But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.
Luke 2:19
Dietrich Bonhoeffer found himself alone in a prison cell on Christmas Eve, 1943. He was accustomed to big family gatherings at Christmas, parties with dear friends, and worship. Oh, how he loved to praise God at Christmas! Reflecting on all that he had lost and all that he was missing, Bonhoeffer wrote these powerful words which are found in Letters and Papers from Prison:
"Nothing can make up for the absence of someone we love, and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute; we must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation, for the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bonds between us. It is nonsense to say God fills the gap; he doesn't fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain.... The dearer and richer our memories, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude changes the pangs of memory into tranquil joy. The beauties of the past are borne, not as a thorn in the flesh, but as a precious gift in themselves."
Christmas Stories
Christmas Presence
by Janice Hammerquist
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light: those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined.
Isaiah 9:2
When my dad passed away unexpectedly, we were shocked, saddened, and overwhelmed. He had been caring for my mother, who was an invalid suffering from emphysema, and we had to hastily decide how to care for her and get her medication figured out. It was a difficult time, as these things always are. We did find a lady to stay with Mother so that she could stay at home rather than go into a nursing home. My dad died in July, and on Christmas Eve I had gone to stay with my mother so that her caretaker could have Christmas off. My own family was at home, celebrating Christmas with other family members. I had to leave the festivities at home to spend the night with my mother. As I was sitting there with her I was down in the dumps, feeling sorry for myself, missing my family, and especially missing my dad. Suddenly, without any warning, I felt his presence in the room. I didn't see him as much as feel he was there. He was happy, I think even laughing, and somehow he conveyed to me that all was well. It was very fleeting to me but very real, and I immediately felt much better. That short moment will always be with me, and it still gives me comfort, as it did more than 15 years ago.
Janice Hammerquist was born and raised in western South Dakota. She and her husband of 40 years live on a ranch and have two children and seven grandchildren. Janice works as a legal secretary in the U.S. Attorney's office, and she belongs to the South Maple United Methodist Church in Rapid City, South Dakota.
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Silver In His Soul
For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all, training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, while we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Titus 2:11-13
His wife gone more than eight years before, his children grown and busy celebrating the holidays far away, unable to get home, the old man pondered what to do. He was on his own. It was Christmas Eve, and as he sat in his comfy old friend of a chair, memories of earlier Christmases came to him, when the kids were young and the house was noisy with excitement. Anne would round them up and get them off to bed. Then it would be their time. A ritual glass or two of homemade apple cider, cookies fresh-baked from the oven, Anne laughing as he struggled to get the box from the attic, and the old worn tree, which wasn't so old and worn back then. The ritual decorating of the Christmas tree. Chuckling, a single tear falling from the old man's eye, he heaved himself out of the chair and made his way slowly up the attic stairs. The box and tree were just as he had left them last year, and the year before, and all the years since Anne had gone. It was his ritual now, and he had never missed a year. Pulling the tree and box, which had become so much heavier now it seemed, down the attic steps, he could hear his Anne laughing. "Come on, old man, I want my tree." Her laughter rang throughout the house. "Well, come on, old woman" -- he chuckled as he puffed his way into the living room -- "don't just stand there watching, give me a hand."
For a brief moment the loneliness and emptiness of his life overwhelmed him. He heard her voice again, loud as could be, as if she were standing right next to him. "Come on, my love, I want my tree," and the force of her, the force of her spirit, her love, propelled him out of his chair. Kneeling in front of the box, he reached inside with his trembling old man's fingers, and for a long time he reached in and out, and hung baubles on the tree. All memories, every one, and then the last, the crowning glory. A silver star, shiny and glittering. With aching bones he reached high up to the highest branch of the worn old tree and balanced the star on the very top. Exhausted but pleased, he sat again in his comfy old friend of a chair and gazed, as he always did, with wonder and delight at the Christmas tree.
"Well, my love," he said to Anne, "what do you think, then?" He heard her chuckle. "Well, my love," she said, "you've got silver from the star on your fingers, and silver in your hair and on your face. And I've got it all over me, too." And the old man looked, and the old man saw, for he, like his wife, had silver in his heart and silver in his soul. And it was another happy Christmas.
(Rosemary Altea, You Own the Power, Eagle Brook, 2000, pp. 136-137)
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www.ChristmasHouse
by John Sumwalt
...an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."
Matthew 1:20b
Joe and Marilyn Naazerman were living the busy, successful, and very comfortable suburban life when Joe had his famous dream. They were in their late fifties, looking forward to retirement and very much enjoying their empty nest years now that they had the Christmas House and all of the fun and hoopla it had brought into their lives. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The story really begins several years before Joe's big dream. It was the year the Naazermans' youngest son, Jimmy, went away to college. Marilyn fell into a deep depression that wouldn't go away. The therapist said it was not uncommon for a woman in her stage of life, and after a time, with the help of Prozac and weekly therapy sessions, Marilyn began to feel like herself again. The Christmas House helped, too.
Joe and Marilyn had bought a big, old Victorian house just after they were married. It had nineteen rooms, including five bathrooms, seven bedrooms, and a three-story tower which was their pride and joy. For years and years the Naazermans had spent every spare minute renovating their dream house. The last major phase, the completion of the tower rooms, including authentic Victorian wallpaper, had been finished in time for Jimmy's graduation party.
"Perhaps you need a new project," the therapist had suggested to Marilyn. And that was when she decided to put up the Christmas lights. It was a fairly modest display that first year, a few strings of white lights around the tall arborvitae shrubs on each corner of the house, an eight-foot blue spruce with blue lights on the balcony over the porch, a large balsam wreath on the front door with a lighted red bow, and mounted high above the tower roof, on a wire frame etched with soft yellow twinkling lights, a five-foot-high star. Marilyn received many positive comments from her neighbors and friends, especially about the star.
The next year, Marilyn hired two high school boys from her Sunday school class to help make a few additions to this modest display of lights. They started the day after Labor Day. That was Joe's first clue that something extraordinary was going on. When the electrician appeared to install an additional circuit breaker, and when he stumbled over the four-foot-high pile of stringed lights in the garage, Joe knew that Marilyn was indeed planning something big. But he didn't say anything. It was a relief to see her so happy again. Joe decided he would do what he could to help. He booted up the computer and did a web search. A site called www.christmaslights caught Joe's eye. It was just what he was looking for, a treasure trove of plans for light displays and specific instructions for design and installation. Joe downloaded the whole website and printed it out. When he showed it to Marilyn she was delighted with all of the ideas, and glad to welcome his help.
They set to work. Their goal was to have it all completed and to have a grand lighting ceremony on Saint Nicholas Day, December 6. It was also Marilyn's birthday. They just made it. Joe was putting the finishing touches on the star when the reporter from the television station arrived with a camera crew. The reporter interviewed Joe and Marilyn as their neighbors and friends began to fill up the yard. There were well over a hundred people gathered, with necks craned upwards, when Marilyn flipped the master switch at precisely 7:00 p.m.
At first the crowd was silent, and then a crescendo of oohs swooped up over the house and filled the night air. It was a dazzling sight! The carefully crafted light sculptures were stunningly beautiful, "like a great painting," one of their friends said, "a true work of art." There were no garish plastic Santas with sleighs full of toys, no reindeer named Rudolph with blinking red noses, no impish elves wrapping presents to beat the clock, no snowmen with carrot noses and stovepipe hats; this was the real Christmas story, the authorized version, come alive in lights.
Forty feet above the chimney on the western side of the roof was an angel with gold-tipped wings and arms outstretched. The angel, hovering over the house with no visible means of support, appeared to be over ten feet high and was surrounded by a host of smaller angels, also with wings unfurled. Below them, on the edge of the roof, was a small flock of sheep and awestruck shepherds, hands shading their faces as they peered into the night sky at this unlikely invasion of heavenly host.
On the eastern side of the house, high above the tower, was the star, three times as high and wide as it had been before. The star's soft yellow lights twinkled and glowed as it lighted the way for the travelers below. Wisemen on camels traversed from afar over the peak of the roof, bearing gifts that shimmered and glistened in a golden light. To the rear of the camels, lower on the roof and cast in a harsher light, was king Herod waving angrily to helmeted soldiers with spears and swords.
And beneath the star, on the balcony over the porch where the blue spruce had been the year before, was the silhouette of a simple stable. There were cattle nearby and the donkey, all gazing toward a manger where the babe was swaddled in what can only be described as a heavenly light. Mary and Joseph beamed over the child, and across the way an innkeeper looked on curiously from the doorway of his inn.
The crowd on the lawn below stood quietly for a long time, looking up at this wondrous sight. And then suddenly all the lights went out and music could be heard coming from speakers somewhere in one of the second floor windows. It was a church choir, singing "Angels We Have Heard on High." When they came to "sweetly singing o'er the plains," the angel and the heavenly host reappeared. Then came "shepherds, why this jubilee," and once again the shepherds lit up the night. The crowd joined in, singing along as each scene appeared in turn: "Come to Bethlehem and see," "We three kings of Orient are," "Away in a manger, no crib for a bed," and "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright...."
When the last note of "sleep in heavenly peace" had dissipated in the night air, the crowd began to applaud, quietly at first, and then wildly, cheering at the tops of their voices. This was a light show like they had never seen before: a human creation that pointed dramatically at the creator come to join the created, in the flesh.
Word of the Naazermans' unusual light display spread like wildfire. People came in droves. Television, radio, and newspaper reporters descended like a plague; the police department had to hire extra officers to maintain order at what everyone, by then, was calling simply the "Christmas House."
This went on for several Christmas seasons. Each year the light display was a little bigger and better than the year before. Recorded music was replaced with live choirs, as every choral group in the city vied for an opportunity to sing at the Christmas House. Joe developed a website -- www.ChristmasHouse -- where visitors could take a virtual tour of the light show. One Christmas Eve the Today show did a live remote broadcast from the Naazermans' balcony. Al Roker, in the days when he was still in his portly incarnation, stood by the manger and did a special Christmas weather report predicting partly cloudy skies with intermittent showers of "peace on earth and mercy mild." Joe rigged the lights so it appeared that Al had angel wings.
It was the following year, on the night of December 5, that the angel appeared to Joe in a dream -- not the angel he had attached to the roof but the real thing, or so it seemed to Joe as he sat straight up in bed, trembling for over an hour, pondering what the angel had said: "Joe, do not be afraid of what is about to happen in your life. A child will come to Marilyn, and you must care for him, for the child is a gift to you from God."
The next morning Joe said nothing to Marilyn about his disturbing dream, attributing it to the stress of preparing for another busy Christmas season. That afternoon Joe took off work early to get ready for the annual premiere of the Christmas House light display. He was surprised to find Marilyn still in her housecoat, sitting at the kitchen table, looking like she had looked during her months of depression. She told him that her stomach had been upset that morning, so she had stayed home from work; she said it felt like a mild case of the flu. And then she dropped the bombshell.
"Joe, your friend Greg Hoster down at Social Services called this morning." Joe knew Greg from Rotary Club. They worked together in the food tent at the fair every year, and they both served on the Finance Committee at church.
"Greg said they have a newborn baby boy that they haven't been able to place in a foster home. He asked if we would consider taking care of him for a few weeks. I told him this was the busiest time of the year for us, and he said he knew that, but all of their foster parents already have their quota of children and everyone else he has asked said no. I told him I would talk to you and get back to him this afternoon." Joe took a deep breath, then he wrapped his arms around Marilyn and said, "Call Greg and tell him yes." And then he told her about the dream.
They picked the baby up at the hospital at about 5:00 p.m. Joe had called the radio and TV stations, asking them to make an announcement postponing the opening of the Christmas House light display. They put little Manuel in a hastily organized nursery in the second floor tower room. It had been Marilyn's sewing room, and it was her favorite room in the house because of the way the morning sunlight streamed in through its floor-to-ceiling windows.
Joe called their grown children and all of their friends to tell them the news. Greetings and gifts flowed in from far and wide. The lights above the Naazermans' Christmas House never did get turned on that Christmas season, but the light in their nursery never ceased to shine. Little Manuel had turned their lives upside-down and stolen their hearts. Joe saw a glow in Marilyn's eyes that he hadn't seen since their children were young, and he couldn't remember ever being happier himself.
In February, when the call came from social services saying they had found a young couple who wanted to adopt Manuel, Joe looked at Marilyn and said, "Why don't we adopt him?" Marilyn gave him one of her best "you've got to be kidding me" looks and said, "Joe, you are 59 years old, and I'm 57. We'll be almost 80 by the time Manuel graduates from high school!" And so Joe and Marilyn said good-bye to their little gift from God. It was one of the hardest things they had ever had to do, though the young couple who adopted Manuel promised to send pictures and made them promise to come and visit.
Many more babies visited the Naazerman nursery in the years that followed, and Joe and Marilyn took them all into their hearts and cared for them until room was found in other hearts.
One Christmas Eve, following the candlelight service at church, Joe and Marilyn walked to the parking lot with Greg Hoster and his wife, Jan. Joe said to Greg, "I have always wondered how it was you happened to call us about Manuel that day. Anyone else would have thought we were the last persons in the world to take in a newborn."
"Well," Greg said, as he dusted the snow off the windshield of his car, "I guess I figured that anybody with a 15-foot star shining over their house was just asking for a baby."
Scrap Pile
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving for Christmas Eve
by Thom M. Shuman
Leader: May God be with you.
People: Even now, God is coming to us.
Leader: People of God, open your hearts.
People: We open our hearts to the approaching God.
Leader: Let us give praise to the God who comes towards us.
People: It is right to sing glory to our God.
Leader: Glory to you, mighty God!
Into the darkness of infinity, you flung the stars, the moon, and the sun.
In those days, our grandparents lived secure in the garden you provided.
But the burden of wanting to be like you led them out into the chaos of sin and rebellion.
The prophets told of One who would come to bring us back to you.
But we chose to listen to the foolish advice of the world and to wander its back streets.
Yet the night came when you became flesh to dwell with us, full of grace and truth.
So we sing the new song,
first caroled to shepherds on Bethlehem's hills and echoed by all creation:
People (sung): "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" (verse 1)
Leader: Holy are you, Everlasting Father,
and blessed is Jesus Christ, our hope, our Lord, our Prince of Peace.
In him, the shadows in the corners of our lives are illuminated
and your hopes for us are revealed.
He breaks all that weighs upon us, and takes the burdens off our shoulders.
He gave of himself, that we might be a blessing to others.
Rejected and despised by many, he welcomes all into your kingdom.
In death, he was wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a tomb,
completing the journey begun in a manger.
Preparing to celebrate his birth and awaiting the day of his return,
we sing of those mysteries we can only understand by faith:
People (sung): "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" (verse 3)
Leader: Holy Spirit, Wonderful Counselor,
as we lift the broken bread and drink from the cup of grace,
we are made whole to live lives of holiness and integrity.
Increase our joy,
that our generosity towards others might deepen.
As grace has appeared holding hands with salvation,
may we reach out to those around us and among us
who search for hope, for joy, for kindness in their lives.
Then send us forth to sing of the One who has come,
that all might know the good news which has transformed our lives forever.
In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.
Thom M. Shuman is the pastor of Greenhills (Presbyterian) Community Church in Cincinnati, Ohio.
(This liturgy for Christmas Eve communion appeared in this year's Advent 4 edition of StoryShare.)
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About the Editors
John E. Sumwalt is the pastor of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in Milwaukee, and is the author of eight books for CSS. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary (UDTS), John received the Herbert Manning Jr. award for Parish Ministry from UDTS in 1997. John is known in the Milwaukee area for his one-minute radio spots which always include a brief story. He concludes each spot by saying, "I'm John Sumwalt with 'A Story to Live By' from Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church."
John has done numerous storytelling events for civic, school, and church groups, as well as on radio and television. He has performed at a number of fundraisers for the homeless, the hungry, Habitat for Humanity, and women's shelters. Since the fall of 1999, when he began working on the Vision Stories series, he has led seminars and retreats around the theme "A Safe Place to Tell Visions."
Joanne Perry-Sumwalt is director of Christian Education at Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in Milwaukee. Jo is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Parkside, with a degree in English and writing. She has co-authored two books with John, Life Stories: A Study In Christian Decision Making and Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit: 62 Stories For Cycle B. Jo writes original curriculum for church classes. She also serves as the secretary of the Wisconsin chapter of the Christian Educators Fellowship (CEF), and is a member of the National CEF.
Jo and John have been married since 1975. They have two grown children, Kathryn and Orrin. They both love reading, movies, long walks with Chloe (their West Highland Terrier), and working on their old farmhouse in southwest Wisconsin.
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StoryShare, December 24, 2004, issue.
Copyright 2004 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
A Story to Live By: "
Christmas Stories: "Christmas Presence" by Janice Hammerquist
"Silver In His Soul"
"www.ChristmasHouse" by John Sumwalt
Scrap Pile: Great Prayer of Thanksgiving for Christmas Eve by Thom M. Shuman
What's Up on Christmas Eve
As our holiday gift to you, we want to share some of our favorite Christmas stories in this special edition of StoryShare, which includes John's newest story, "www.ChristmasHouse." This is a very difficult time of the year for many among us -- especially the bereaved and those who find themselves alone at a time when they were always surrounded by family and friends. Coping with loss at Christmas is the theme that runs through the stories in this special Christmas Eve StoryShare.
A Story to Live By
Christmas Absence
But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.
Luke 2:19
Dietrich Bonhoeffer found himself alone in a prison cell on Christmas Eve, 1943. He was accustomed to big family gatherings at Christmas, parties with dear friends, and worship. Oh, how he loved to praise God at Christmas! Reflecting on all that he had lost and all that he was missing, Bonhoeffer wrote these powerful words which are found in Letters and Papers from Prison:
"Nothing can make up for the absence of someone we love, and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute; we must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first, but at the same time it is a great consolation, for the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bonds between us. It is nonsense to say God fills the gap; he doesn't fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain.... The dearer and richer our memories, the more difficult the separation. But gratitude changes the pangs of memory into tranquil joy. The beauties of the past are borne, not as a thorn in the flesh, but as a precious gift in themselves."
Christmas Stories
Christmas Presence
by Janice Hammerquist
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light: those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined.
Isaiah 9:2
When my dad passed away unexpectedly, we were shocked, saddened, and overwhelmed. He had been caring for my mother, who was an invalid suffering from emphysema, and we had to hastily decide how to care for her and get her medication figured out. It was a difficult time, as these things always are. We did find a lady to stay with Mother so that she could stay at home rather than go into a nursing home. My dad died in July, and on Christmas Eve I had gone to stay with my mother so that her caretaker could have Christmas off. My own family was at home, celebrating Christmas with other family members. I had to leave the festivities at home to spend the night with my mother. As I was sitting there with her I was down in the dumps, feeling sorry for myself, missing my family, and especially missing my dad. Suddenly, without any warning, I felt his presence in the room. I didn't see him as much as feel he was there. He was happy, I think even laughing, and somehow he conveyed to me that all was well. It was very fleeting to me but very real, and I immediately felt much better. That short moment will always be with me, and it still gives me comfort, as it did more than 15 years ago.
Janice Hammerquist was born and raised in western South Dakota. She and her husband of 40 years live on a ranch and have two children and seven grandchildren. Janice works as a legal secretary in the U.S. Attorney's office, and she belongs to the South Maple United Methodist Church in Rapid City, South Dakota.
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Silver In His Soul
For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all, training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, while we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Titus 2:11-13
His wife gone more than eight years before, his children grown and busy celebrating the holidays far away, unable to get home, the old man pondered what to do. He was on his own. It was Christmas Eve, and as he sat in his comfy old friend of a chair, memories of earlier Christmases came to him, when the kids were young and the house was noisy with excitement. Anne would round them up and get them off to bed. Then it would be their time. A ritual glass or two of homemade apple cider, cookies fresh-baked from the oven, Anne laughing as he struggled to get the box from the attic, and the old worn tree, which wasn't so old and worn back then. The ritual decorating of the Christmas tree. Chuckling, a single tear falling from the old man's eye, he heaved himself out of the chair and made his way slowly up the attic stairs. The box and tree were just as he had left them last year, and the year before, and all the years since Anne had gone. It was his ritual now, and he had never missed a year. Pulling the tree and box, which had become so much heavier now it seemed, down the attic steps, he could hear his Anne laughing. "Come on, old man, I want my tree." Her laughter rang throughout the house. "Well, come on, old woman" -- he chuckled as he puffed his way into the living room -- "don't just stand there watching, give me a hand."
For a brief moment the loneliness and emptiness of his life overwhelmed him. He heard her voice again, loud as could be, as if she were standing right next to him. "Come on, my love, I want my tree," and the force of her, the force of her spirit, her love, propelled him out of his chair. Kneeling in front of the box, he reached inside with his trembling old man's fingers, and for a long time he reached in and out, and hung baubles on the tree. All memories, every one, and then the last, the crowning glory. A silver star, shiny and glittering. With aching bones he reached high up to the highest branch of the worn old tree and balanced the star on the very top. Exhausted but pleased, he sat again in his comfy old friend of a chair and gazed, as he always did, with wonder and delight at the Christmas tree.
"Well, my love," he said to Anne, "what do you think, then?" He heard her chuckle. "Well, my love," she said, "you've got silver from the star on your fingers, and silver in your hair and on your face. And I've got it all over me, too." And the old man looked, and the old man saw, for he, like his wife, had silver in his heart and silver in his soul. And it was another happy Christmas.
(Rosemary Altea, You Own the Power, Eagle Brook, 2000, pp. 136-137)
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www.ChristmasHouse
by John Sumwalt
...an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."
Matthew 1:20b
Joe and Marilyn Naazerman were living the busy, successful, and very comfortable suburban life when Joe had his famous dream. They were in their late fifties, looking forward to retirement and very much enjoying their empty nest years now that they had the Christmas House and all of the fun and hoopla it had brought into their lives. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The story really begins several years before Joe's big dream. It was the year the Naazermans' youngest son, Jimmy, went away to college. Marilyn fell into a deep depression that wouldn't go away. The therapist said it was not uncommon for a woman in her stage of life, and after a time, with the help of Prozac and weekly therapy sessions, Marilyn began to feel like herself again. The Christmas House helped, too.
Joe and Marilyn had bought a big, old Victorian house just after they were married. It had nineteen rooms, including five bathrooms, seven bedrooms, and a three-story tower which was their pride and joy. For years and years the Naazermans had spent every spare minute renovating their dream house. The last major phase, the completion of the tower rooms, including authentic Victorian wallpaper, had been finished in time for Jimmy's graduation party.
"Perhaps you need a new project," the therapist had suggested to Marilyn. And that was when she decided to put up the Christmas lights. It was a fairly modest display that first year, a few strings of white lights around the tall arborvitae shrubs on each corner of the house, an eight-foot blue spruce with blue lights on the balcony over the porch, a large balsam wreath on the front door with a lighted red bow, and mounted high above the tower roof, on a wire frame etched with soft yellow twinkling lights, a five-foot-high star. Marilyn received many positive comments from her neighbors and friends, especially about the star.
The next year, Marilyn hired two high school boys from her Sunday school class to help make a few additions to this modest display of lights. They started the day after Labor Day. That was Joe's first clue that something extraordinary was going on. When the electrician appeared to install an additional circuit breaker, and when he stumbled over the four-foot-high pile of stringed lights in the garage, Joe knew that Marilyn was indeed planning something big. But he didn't say anything. It was a relief to see her so happy again. Joe decided he would do what he could to help. He booted up the computer and did a web search. A site called www.christmaslights caught Joe's eye. It was just what he was looking for, a treasure trove of plans for light displays and specific instructions for design and installation. Joe downloaded the whole website and printed it out. When he showed it to Marilyn she was delighted with all of the ideas, and glad to welcome his help.
They set to work. Their goal was to have it all completed and to have a grand lighting ceremony on Saint Nicholas Day, December 6. It was also Marilyn's birthday. They just made it. Joe was putting the finishing touches on the star when the reporter from the television station arrived with a camera crew. The reporter interviewed Joe and Marilyn as their neighbors and friends began to fill up the yard. There were well over a hundred people gathered, with necks craned upwards, when Marilyn flipped the master switch at precisely 7:00 p.m.
At first the crowd was silent, and then a crescendo of oohs swooped up over the house and filled the night air. It was a dazzling sight! The carefully crafted light sculptures were stunningly beautiful, "like a great painting," one of their friends said, "a true work of art." There were no garish plastic Santas with sleighs full of toys, no reindeer named Rudolph with blinking red noses, no impish elves wrapping presents to beat the clock, no snowmen with carrot noses and stovepipe hats; this was the real Christmas story, the authorized version, come alive in lights.
Forty feet above the chimney on the western side of the roof was an angel with gold-tipped wings and arms outstretched. The angel, hovering over the house with no visible means of support, appeared to be over ten feet high and was surrounded by a host of smaller angels, also with wings unfurled. Below them, on the edge of the roof, was a small flock of sheep and awestruck shepherds, hands shading their faces as they peered into the night sky at this unlikely invasion of heavenly host.
On the eastern side of the house, high above the tower, was the star, three times as high and wide as it had been before. The star's soft yellow lights twinkled and glowed as it lighted the way for the travelers below. Wisemen on camels traversed from afar over the peak of the roof, bearing gifts that shimmered and glistened in a golden light. To the rear of the camels, lower on the roof and cast in a harsher light, was king Herod waving angrily to helmeted soldiers with spears and swords.
And beneath the star, on the balcony over the porch where the blue spruce had been the year before, was the silhouette of a simple stable. There were cattle nearby and the donkey, all gazing toward a manger where the babe was swaddled in what can only be described as a heavenly light. Mary and Joseph beamed over the child, and across the way an innkeeper looked on curiously from the doorway of his inn.
The crowd on the lawn below stood quietly for a long time, looking up at this wondrous sight. And then suddenly all the lights went out and music could be heard coming from speakers somewhere in one of the second floor windows. It was a church choir, singing "Angels We Have Heard on High." When they came to "sweetly singing o'er the plains," the angel and the heavenly host reappeared. Then came "shepherds, why this jubilee," and once again the shepherds lit up the night. The crowd joined in, singing along as each scene appeared in turn: "Come to Bethlehem and see," "We three kings of Orient are," "Away in a manger, no crib for a bed," and "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright...."
When the last note of "sleep in heavenly peace" had dissipated in the night air, the crowd began to applaud, quietly at first, and then wildly, cheering at the tops of their voices. This was a light show like they had never seen before: a human creation that pointed dramatically at the creator come to join the created, in the flesh.
Word of the Naazermans' unusual light display spread like wildfire. People came in droves. Television, radio, and newspaper reporters descended like a plague; the police department had to hire extra officers to maintain order at what everyone, by then, was calling simply the "Christmas House."
This went on for several Christmas seasons. Each year the light display was a little bigger and better than the year before. Recorded music was replaced with live choirs, as every choral group in the city vied for an opportunity to sing at the Christmas House. Joe developed a website -- www.ChristmasHouse -- where visitors could take a virtual tour of the light show. One Christmas Eve the Today show did a live remote broadcast from the Naazermans' balcony. Al Roker, in the days when he was still in his portly incarnation, stood by the manger and did a special Christmas weather report predicting partly cloudy skies with intermittent showers of "peace on earth and mercy mild." Joe rigged the lights so it appeared that Al had angel wings.
It was the following year, on the night of December 5, that the angel appeared to Joe in a dream -- not the angel he had attached to the roof but the real thing, or so it seemed to Joe as he sat straight up in bed, trembling for over an hour, pondering what the angel had said: "Joe, do not be afraid of what is about to happen in your life. A child will come to Marilyn, and you must care for him, for the child is a gift to you from God."
The next morning Joe said nothing to Marilyn about his disturbing dream, attributing it to the stress of preparing for another busy Christmas season. That afternoon Joe took off work early to get ready for the annual premiere of the Christmas House light display. He was surprised to find Marilyn still in her housecoat, sitting at the kitchen table, looking like she had looked during her months of depression. She told him that her stomach had been upset that morning, so she had stayed home from work; she said it felt like a mild case of the flu. And then she dropped the bombshell.
"Joe, your friend Greg Hoster down at Social Services called this morning." Joe knew Greg from Rotary Club. They worked together in the food tent at the fair every year, and they both served on the Finance Committee at church.
"Greg said they have a newborn baby boy that they haven't been able to place in a foster home. He asked if we would consider taking care of him for a few weeks. I told him this was the busiest time of the year for us, and he said he knew that, but all of their foster parents already have their quota of children and everyone else he has asked said no. I told him I would talk to you and get back to him this afternoon." Joe took a deep breath, then he wrapped his arms around Marilyn and said, "Call Greg and tell him yes." And then he told her about the dream.
They picked the baby up at the hospital at about 5:00 p.m. Joe had called the radio and TV stations, asking them to make an announcement postponing the opening of the Christmas House light display. They put little Manuel in a hastily organized nursery in the second floor tower room. It had been Marilyn's sewing room, and it was her favorite room in the house because of the way the morning sunlight streamed in through its floor-to-ceiling windows.
Joe called their grown children and all of their friends to tell them the news. Greetings and gifts flowed in from far and wide. The lights above the Naazermans' Christmas House never did get turned on that Christmas season, but the light in their nursery never ceased to shine. Little Manuel had turned their lives upside-down and stolen their hearts. Joe saw a glow in Marilyn's eyes that he hadn't seen since their children were young, and he couldn't remember ever being happier himself.
In February, when the call came from social services saying they had found a young couple who wanted to adopt Manuel, Joe looked at Marilyn and said, "Why don't we adopt him?" Marilyn gave him one of her best "you've got to be kidding me" looks and said, "Joe, you are 59 years old, and I'm 57. We'll be almost 80 by the time Manuel graduates from high school!" And so Joe and Marilyn said good-bye to their little gift from God. It was one of the hardest things they had ever had to do, though the young couple who adopted Manuel promised to send pictures and made them promise to come and visit.
Many more babies visited the Naazerman nursery in the years that followed, and Joe and Marilyn took them all into their hearts and cared for them until room was found in other hearts.
One Christmas Eve, following the candlelight service at church, Joe and Marilyn walked to the parking lot with Greg Hoster and his wife, Jan. Joe said to Greg, "I have always wondered how it was you happened to call us about Manuel that day. Anyone else would have thought we were the last persons in the world to take in a newborn."
"Well," Greg said, as he dusted the snow off the windshield of his car, "I guess I figured that anybody with a 15-foot star shining over their house was just asking for a baby."
Scrap Pile
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving for Christmas Eve
by Thom M. Shuman
Leader: May God be with you.
People: Even now, God is coming to us.
Leader: People of God, open your hearts.
People: We open our hearts to the approaching God.
Leader: Let us give praise to the God who comes towards us.
People: It is right to sing glory to our God.
Leader: Glory to you, mighty God!
Into the darkness of infinity, you flung the stars, the moon, and the sun.
In those days, our grandparents lived secure in the garden you provided.
But the burden of wanting to be like you led them out into the chaos of sin and rebellion.
The prophets told of One who would come to bring us back to you.
But we chose to listen to the foolish advice of the world and to wander its back streets.
Yet the night came when you became flesh to dwell with us, full of grace and truth.
So we sing the new song,
first caroled to shepherds on Bethlehem's hills and echoed by all creation:
People (sung): "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" (verse 1)
Leader: Holy are you, Everlasting Father,
and blessed is Jesus Christ, our hope, our Lord, our Prince of Peace.
In him, the shadows in the corners of our lives are illuminated
and your hopes for us are revealed.
He breaks all that weighs upon us, and takes the burdens off our shoulders.
He gave of himself, that we might be a blessing to others.
Rejected and despised by many, he welcomes all into your kingdom.
In death, he was wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a tomb,
completing the journey begun in a manger.
Preparing to celebrate his birth and awaiting the day of his return,
we sing of those mysteries we can only understand by faith:
People (sung): "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" (verse 3)
Leader: Holy Spirit, Wonderful Counselor,
as we lift the broken bread and drink from the cup of grace,
we are made whole to live lives of holiness and integrity.
Increase our joy,
that our generosity towards others might deepen.
As grace has appeared holding hands with salvation,
may we reach out to those around us and among us
who search for hope, for joy, for kindness in their lives.
Then send us forth to sing of the One who has come,
that all might know the good news which has transformed our lives forever.
In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.
Thom M. Shuman is the pastor of Greenhills (Presbyterian) Community Church in Cincinnati, Ohio.
(This liturgy for Christmas Eve communion appeared in this year's Advent 4 edition of StoryShare.)
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About the Editors
John E. Sumwalt is the pastor of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in Milwaukee, and is the author of eight books for CSS. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary (UDTS), John received the Herbert Manning Jr. award for Parish Ministry from UDTS in 1997. John is known in the Milwaukee area for his one-minute radio spots which always include a brief story. He concludes each spot by saying, "I'm John Sumwalt with 'A Story to Live By' from Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church."
John has done numerous storytelling events for civic, school, and church groups, as well as on radio and television. He has performed at a number of fundraisers for the homeless, the hungry, Habitat for Humanity, and women's shelters. Since the fall of 1999, when he began working on the Vision Stories series, he has led seminars and retreats around the theme "A Safe Place to Tell Visions."
Joanne Perry-Sumwalt is director of Christian Education at Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in Milwaukee. Jo is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Parkside, with a degree in English and writing. She has co-authored two books with John, Life Stories: A Study In Christian Decision Making and Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit: 62 Stories For Cycle B. Jo writes original curriculum for church classes. She also serves as the secretary of the Wisconsin chapter of the Christian Educators Fellowship (CEF), and is a member of the National CEF.
Jo and John have been married since 1975. They have two grown children, Kathryn and Orrin. They both love reading, movies, long walks with Chloe (their West Highland Terrier), and working on their old farmhouse in southwest Wisconsin.
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StoryShare, December 24, 2004, issue.
Copyright 2004 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
