Christmas Moments for Mother

There were some moments this Christmas season that I simply counted extra special--

such as getting up early in the morning, while it was still dark outside, and discovering this quiet scene in the corner of the livingroom.

Or a daughter reading her Bible in another chair opposite on another morning, long before the eight-thirty sunrise on these late December days. 

Christmas Eve Sunday night was another special time, even though the snow, wind and ice the night before kept most people away that evening when our family had been asked to have several musical pieces.

We had gone to some trouble to practice, even setting up, tearing down, and setting up again my old vibraharp that is still intact nearly forty years after my father got it for me. 

And then only one brave native lady showed up to service besides the pastor and his wife and Tommy and us. 

I didn't mind, because we were a big enough crew to make half a congregation, and I loved the meaningful service that Mrs. Ambrose had put together, based on the "Beholds" of the Christmas story and beyond.

If no one else was there to enjoy this beautiful service, we did!

There were Scriptures interspersed with congregational singing of Christmas carols, some of which I had never sung before, such as "Bring your Torch, Jeanette Isabella," a song depicting someone hushing the noisy shepherds who came to worship Christ but really needed to be quiet and let the baby King sleep!

 

Near the end of the service, the verse was read, "Behold, the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world." 

And we sang, "Lamb of God," a song some of my children didn't think they'd ever heard before.

"I liked that song," Tim expressed, and his mom chalked up another meaningful moment, thankful that a son was touched by a simple but profound contemporary hymn about the Lamb of God. 

Mrs. Ambrose, upon hearing this, made sure we got the hymnal that had the song in it so we could make copies of the hymn.

We finished with a candlelight song, "Silent Night," and I wish I could have snapped a photo of the quiet, peaceful face of Susie, the native lady who was the only attendee that cold, icy night.

She is the only one in her native clan who attends church, even though her grandparents and great grands were godly people, as we were told. 

I wished to get a picture of that face in candle light, but the moment was sacred.

And so was a moment some time later, after we'd all had chips and dip and cookies together after the service in the basement. 

"Thank you, children," I said, as we packed up our musical instruments, "for being willing to sing for just one person besides the pastor and his wife." I didn't say anything about the dozens of cookies they'd helped to make to share with all the people who were supposed to have come for service that night but didn't dare brave the icy roads.

Rose spoke up. "We did it for Jesus!" she said.

And while I didn't say anything out loud, a mother's heart was glad. Everything we did, we did for Him, but it was good to remember that because sometimes in our busyness, we can forget that. 

Except when the mom in a needy family texts, "We had a rough two days, and when you bring food it helps more than you can imagine. The kids ate and loved it so now we can relax." 

And later when I texted that we were coming with more dishes for Christmas, she texted back, "Are you serious your making me cry nobody is this nice to us."

And again later, "Thank you, Anna you mean so much to us we are blessed with your friendship."

We know we did it not just for them, but for Jesus, as Rose reminded us.

Another special moment was when our dog Aspen got a new doggie bed for Christmas, and made herself comfy immediately! And then shared it night after night with Tim's dog Kate and even the kittty!

There were lots of games played on Christmas Day and during the week afterward, but this one between father and oldest son, who spends a huge amount of his life in Colorado keeping the business going that his father left behind.

So many moments to give thanks for.

Mom moments that, like Mary, I hide quietly and ponder in my heart.