The Real Meaning of Christmas

(Published in "The Herald of Holiness", official organ of the Church of the Nazarene, December 30, 1964). I was 28 years old.

I lay on my bed in utter fatigue, seemingly surrounded with the quiet darkness of the night after Christmas. My thoughts skipped from scene to scene as I reminisced about the holiday. Hurrying through crowded department stores and thronged sidewalks. The nagging debate as to whether Wayne would prefer the mohair pullover or the cardigan with suede-patched elbows. And being careful not to spend noticeably more for my parents than for his. Baking endless numbers of gumdrop cookies for the boys, only to find that they preferred our chocolate chips. Rehearsing Mark for the church Christmas program, although he insisted that he would not say his part when his name was called. Later listening to him orate his four lines as though it had been all his idea to begin with. Daily sweeping up fallen pine-needles from our dry "not as pretty as last year's" tree. Playing our five Christmas records over and over on the stereo. Sharing fruitcake and star cookies with friends who dropped in.

These were but a few of the scenes that raced through my mind before I heard my child's voice, as if in conversation, coming from his room. Walking softly toward his door I heard him say: "Lord, we know that if you hadn't come to earth to be born, we wouldn't have Christmas; and if you hadn't died and arose again, we wouldn't have Easter. And I just want you to know that I appreciate it. And, Lord, you do lots of nice things for me, and I do nice things for you sometimes, and I'm going to keep on till I die."

While I, his mother, had recalled the frills and accessories of the holiday season, my small son remembered what Christmas was really all about; and remembering, in his own childish way, gave thanks.

The great beauty and meaning of Christmas came to me that night, even as on that night long ago in Bethlehem, through a child! -- Joyce Schurman Murphy