You know those antidepressant ads that show the woman's depression as a bathrobe that sneaks up on her and slyly envelopes her whole body on occasion even though (we're lead to believe) she mostly keeps it at bay-- in her pocket, or hanging on the back of her chair? My fuzzy blue suffocating bathrobe is fear. Fear for the safety and health of myself and my family, fear of the dark, fear of the unknown, fear of rejection, fear of heights, you name it.
After I married J, and through the subsequent years of maturing in the Lord, I gradually began to learn how to deal with my fears (another, much longer post for another time) and now the blue bathrobe is almost always quite firmly shut into a closet and nearly never makes it as far as my shoulders...
But now and then events like last Friday suddenly give that bathrobe a new power and I find myself carrying it around in my back pocket again. Too close for comfort. I find my mind wandering, my heart suddenly clutching, my throat swelling and my palms sweating.
And then yesterday, the Lord appointed a Santa Clause to sit in the Costco dining area...
So, no. Probably not. But it felt a little like that.
There he is. A beautifully round old gentleman in khakis and a white polo shirt, sitting on his motor scooter, eating pizza and drinking coke. A plainclothes Santa. Incognito Father Christmas. But the beard, the cherry nose and the red hat were dead giveaways. There's no fooling five year olds in December.
"Look!" Judah stage-whispers urgently, "Look, Mama! Is that...? Is that... Santa??"
"Santa!!!" Even Jamie can tell. I mean, that beard-- curly mustache and all-- unmistakable.
We walk over. We say "hi," shyly. We say "... are... are you...?" In awe, "...Are you Santa?"
And he says, "Ho ho ho!"
Yes. Yes, he did. He said "Ho ho ho!"
And he said, "I'm just here to check and see how all the children are behaving for their mamas and daddys during shopping time! Are you being good little boys? Would you like to see something?"
He pulls out his billfold and shows them a picture of himself in a bright red suit.
"See that? That's me on Christmas Day! Next week I'll put on my suit...."
And then he digs around in his pocket and pulls out a handful of trinkets and hands one to each boy.
"Merry Christmas!!"
And we say goodbye and wave and walk along, and Santa goes back to his coke and pizza and somehow I find that my scratchy blue bathrobe is now firmly shut back into that closet. I am reminded that my children are still safe and happy and there are manymany adults who love them and love children in general and that it is ok-- right now. And right now, that is all I really have. Tomorrow and later and next year is in the Lord's loving hands and so am I and so are my children.
He came to earth a helpless, vulnerable child. How significant is that? This carol is my theme for this Christmas:
Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love’s sake becamest poor;
Thrones for a manger didst surrender,
Sapphire-paved courts for stable floor.
Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love’s sake becamest poor.
Thou who art God beyond all praising,
All for love’s sake becamest man;
Stooping so low, but sinners raising
Heavenwards by thine eternal plan.
Thou who art God beyond all praising,
All for love’s sake becamest man.
Thou who art love beyond all telling,
Saviour and King, we worship thee.
Emmanuel, within us dwelling,
Make us what thou wouldst have us be.
Thou who art love beyond all telling,
Saviour and King, we worship thee.
And the story of the writing of that hymn tells also of vulnerability, sacrifice, love, fear of parents for their children and the Lord's loving hands.
1 comment:
:)
Plainclothes Santa... love it.
Post a Comment