Merry Christmas!

I was asked if I might be willing to share this story in my weekly blog. While normally hesitant to try worship material in a blog, I will give it a shot.

Christmas was very difficult in 1989. I was in the second year of professional, ordained ministry, serving a church in Junction City, Kansas. Christmas has always been difficult in the Church, since many C&E (Christmas and Easter) Christians judge the entire life of the Church on the power and impact of the Christmas Eve and Easter services. The pressure on musical and pastoral is unlike any other time of year.

Lisa, my spouse, was pregnant. We were expecting a child in late January/early February. Unfortunately, she developed a problem with her pregnancy that had required her to remain in bed until delivery. Coupled with the stress of new ministry at Christmas, the pregnancy added to the difficulty of the season.

I was already troubled by the death of my father, which had taken place about a month earlier. He was 53 when he died, as a result of a medical error that occurred during a heart catheterization. My father died without life insurance or any retirement planning. There was nothing, except the family home in which my mother continued to live. Because I was living hundreds of miles away from the family home in Bremen, Indiana, I felt helpless and out of touch.

It was just another problem for us when the ladies of the congregation scheduled a baby shower. I had to get my sick wife up and over to the church, overcome my sense of loss and isolation, and continue to deal with the immense pressures of ministry. Who needed a baby shower?

The women of the church must have known something that we did not, however. The shower was a tremendous event, one of the memories that I treasure from my five years in Kansas. The people of the congregation and community were wildly supportive and extremely generous. But that is not what really made the difference as we approached Christmas in 1989.

The difference was made when Janice Hornbostle, who, with her husband Marvin, had unofficially adopted us as their own family, put her arm around my shoulder and whispered to me, "Remember that, from here on out, it's all about the child."

Despite my father's death, and the resulting financial troubles, the child would make it all alright. Despite the stress of the holiday season, and the extreme expectations of the church, the child was coming. Despite my wife's fragile health, the baby would solve everything.

I learned to place my hope in the baby. I learned to put my hope in the child. Janice's words have come true, of course. Since the child was born, nothing has been the same. Everything has been different. And what a blessing it has been.

I hope for everyone who reads these words a Christmas that is about the child. Let it be about the baby. It will change everything. Nothing will ever be the same. And it will be a truly blessed celebration!

Merry Christmas!