Christmas 2006
Christmas. A very powerful time if we let it be so. Unfortunately for me, my job requires my service on all holidays, Christmas Eve and Christmas included. Since my mother's death, we have celebrated Christmas on the Eve before. We all gather together at my brother's home where my sister-in-law prepares a traditional German dinner. An amazing roast dripping in a splendid au jous. There is sauerkraut (not a fan but is highly praised) and that which I look forward to the most, German dumplings. I'm not sure they're called German dumplings but they are awesome. The true blessing and most memorable gift came after all the presents had been opened and the families departed. Earlier, I had asked Sandy if she would go with me to see Herman for Christmas Day. Herman is an old, old friend of my mom's who was now spending his most senior years at the National Lutheran Home in Rockville, MD. We had planned to go to the cemetery on Christmas Day, but something was drawing me to other ends. My mom was in my ear telling me that I could visit her anytime and that she was always with me. Go see someone who needed it. Well, Sandy did me one better. This Christmas Eve she said, "Let's go see him now!" It was already 9:00, late by some standards, but we called ahead. We were told by the nurse on duty that Herman was still awake and would be for awhile longer. While I was on the phone making plans and getting directions, Sandy had drafted another reveler in Lynn.
For those that don't know this dear sweet woman, Lynn was mom's best friend for over 40 years, friends for nearly the length of my life. Off we speed to see Herman! On the way, my younger brother Scott calls from his hotel and soon our conspiracy is a mob. The four of us invade the Lutheran Home in the manner that would make my mom proud. I truly felt the warmth and love of my mother as we sat and visited an old man who sees too few visitors. I am doing my mother's work and I was happier now than any gift given to me ever made me feel. The joy on his face and laughter in his voice late on Christmas Eve is truly what the love of God is about. Tears streamed down the old man's face as we said our goodbyes. I know in my heart that he would have entertained us as long as we wanted, so starved he was for company and the touch of another human soul. Christmas is truly in the giving. That night I was full. Full of the gift I had given and received in kind. Was this night over? Not yet. As the hour grew late, Scott discovered that there was still time for one more gift. A gift to ourselves. We found ourselves racing to Gaithersburg as the time drew near to eleven. The candlelight service at GPC. We arrived and were seated with a few minutes to spare. The last time Sandy, Lynn and I were at Gaithersburg Presbyterian Church was for the funeral last year in July. So much emotion swept over me. The music began and the Christmas Eve worship began. I don't remember much of the service except that I couldn't sing "Joy To The World", mom's favorite carol. The passages were read and the sermon given. I'm sure they were poinant and beautiful. I was away in my memory of the times at this church. Bert Moore with sermon's bursting from his mouth with a voice that couldn't contain his joy. Fran Moore, whose laugh and energy so infectious while directing me in whatever choir I happened to be in. Donald Kinloch's passion that manifested itself in a thick Scottish accent. Faye's passages and prayers for the people. My mother, grinning up and greeting everyone who passed by the office. An infectious smile that presented itself no matter what her feeling or pressure might be. The candles are lit and "Silent Night" begins. As the song continues, the spirits of these people present themselves to me in my memory, a gift to me. My most precious gift. With my friends around me in the near dark, I stand and listen quietly, tears of joy running down my face. I do not sing. I cannot. I close my eyes as my mom, Bert, Fran and the memories of those lost gather in my memory to wish me the most blessed of Christmases. I receive them as a child receives the most precious of toys. The music has ended and the lights return to their brightness. I stand a little longer, bidding farewell to the spirits that visited me. We depart and hugs are shared. I take Lynn home. I walk her to her door and give a final hug. Then suddenly, the spirits of our memories return in triumphant glory! We are sad and require each others strength for a bit longer. "It's not the same," Lynn says. "No, it's not," I say. "It's different." Our tears prevent anymore speaking as we hold each other in our arms. "Merry Christmas Lynn," I say. I turn and Lynn closes the door. I drive back home, the peace is welcome. Merry Christmas mom.
For those that don't know this dear sweet woman, Lynn was mom's best friend for over 40 years, friends for nearly the length of my life. Off we speed to see Herman! On the way, my younger brother Scott calls from his hotel and soon our conspiracy is a mob. The four of us invade the Lutheran Home in the manner that would make my mom proud. I truly felt the warmth and love of my mother as we sat and visited an old man who sees too few visitors. I am doing my mother's work and I was happier now than any gift given to me ever made me feel. The joy on his face and laughter in his voice late on Christmas Eve is truly what the love of God is about. Tears streamed down the old man's face as we said our goodbyes. I know in my heart that he would have entertained us as long as we wanted, so starved he was for company and the touch of another human soul. Christmas is truly in the giving. That night I was full. Full of the gift I had given and received in kind. Was this night over? Not yet. As the hour grew late, Scott discovered that there was still time for one more gift. A gift to ourselves. We found ourselves racing to Gaithersburg as the time drew near to eleven. The candlelight service at GPC. We arrived and were seated with a few minutes to spare. The last time Sandy, Lynn and I were at Gaithersburg Presbyterian Church was for the funeral last year in July. So much emotion swept over me. The music began and the Christmas Eve worship began. I don't remember much of the service except that I couldn't sing "Joy To The World", mom's favorite carol. The passages were read and the sermon given. I'm sure they were poinant and beautiful. I was away in my memory of the times at this church. Bert Moore with sermon's bursting from his mouth with a voice that couldn't contain his joy. Fran Moore, whose laugh and energy so infectious while directing me in whatever choir I happened to be in. Donald Kinloch's passion that manifested itself in a thick Scottish accent. Faye's passages and prayers for the people. My mother, grinning up and greeting everyone who passed by the office. An infectious smile that presented itself no matter what her feeling or pressure might be. The candles are lit and "Silent Night" begins. As the song continues, the spirits of these people present themselves to me in my memory, a gift to me. My most precious gift. With my friends around me in the near dark, I stand and listen quietly, tears of joy running down my face. I do not sing. I cannot. I close my eyes as my mom, Bert, Fran and the memories of those lost gather in my memory to wish me the most blessed of Christmases. I receive them as a child receives the most precious of toys. The music has ended and the lights return to their brightness. I stand a little longer, bidding farewell to the spirits that visited me. We depart and hugs are shared. I take Lynn home. I walk her to her door and give a final hug. Then suddenly, the spirits of our memories return in triumphant glory! We are sad and require each others strength for a bit longer. "It's not the same," Lynn says. "No, it's not," I say. "It's different." Our tears prevent anymore speaking as we hold each other in our arms. "Merry Christmas Lynn," I say. I turn and Lynn closes the door. I drive back home, the peace is welcome. Merry Christmas mom.
posted by Saint Patience at 1:28 AM
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