The Squooshy

We have gotten very good at making our own family traditions at Christmas time. At first…we were all over the place.  Traveling for Christmas…no…staying home. Cooking a turkey…no…going to Wawa on Christmas night. But now we have it down to a delightful rhythm. And it is my most sincere hope that my kids will associate these little things with Christmas for years to come: an annual Christmas music event. Christmas Eve dinner out. The music boxes and the kitschy stuffed animals that disgrace beloved Christmas songs with horrible animated movements (these are my personal favorites). Gingerbread houses. The cookies I only make at Christmas time. The train under the tree. The way gifts just appear under the tree by Christmas morning.  And the junk food and tacky light tour that round out each Christmas night and usher in the  travel phase of the annual Morales  Christmas tour…….(the part that comes with Grandmas and Grandpas and Aunts and Uncles and cousins and their own set of wonderful traditions).  Dave asked me earlier this year which one of our Christmas traditions I was looking forward to the most.

It’s the Christmas Eve church service.  Every year.    

I worked with Daniel this year memorizing some verses from the first 2 chapters of Luke so that he could carry the Christmas story in his heart. He’s really good at memorization. But. I’m not sure how much is actually sticking–the meaning of it. Really, it has been a means to an end for him. A memorized verse is how mommy let him earn the right to open a window on the lego advent calendar that Aunt Ruth gave him.  Sneaky right?    This year. When we got to Luke 2:12 and I tried to read it to him, I couldn’t quite get it out. 

“This is how you will know him. You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a feeding box (manger).”

Daniel asked me, “mommy, why do you look like you are going to cry when you read that?”  And I explained. The world was looking for a savior. A king. A powerful ruler. Someone to right the wrongs of God’s people. They weren’t looking in feeding boxes. It reminds me that when you seek God’s love you often find it in unexpected places. In unexpected packages. 

The team at New Song UMC crafted the most beautiful Christmas Eve service this year. Truly. It was thoughtful and sincere. It was heartfelt. It was moving. It was there that my 15 year old son rested his head on my shoulder during the service (he let me sniff his hair!)…there that he held my hand…there that he remarked how beautiful the service was…that it was better than any other church service all year long. He brought that toy of his (the one that sits on his shelf that his 5 year old brother is not allowed to play with) and handed it to little brother  just so that he would have a special toy to play with in the service. It was there that I got to see my five year old look at my teenager with awe as he got to play with “the toy”….no strings attached. I got to sing joyful Christmas songs with my five year old.  It’s where he is allowed to stand in the chairs instead of on the floor so that he can participate like the other grown ups–so long as he removes his shoes. 

It’s at the Christmas Eve service that I truly understand what Emmanuel means: God with us.  God approachable. God unexpected.  God as a gift for mankind. God not in a palace or as a prize that waits at the end of a long religious journey where righteousness and piety is rewarded with his presence. God in a feeding box wrapped in cloths. God in that church service. God with the Morales family.  God with us.