A = Advent. The word is from the Latin, “adventus,” and means arrival. Think about any time when you have waited for your child to come home from college; for the visit from someone you have not seen in a while; for a baby. Of course, there is excitement and apprehension. One busies one’s self with all kinds of preparation. Often we do so much and are so focused on the big moment of arrival that we fail to enjoy the journey to the big day. Advent re-minds us to pay attention and enjoy all the details and all the preparation and pause to ask, “Why am I doing this?”
B = Baby. Of course, at the center of the Christmas story is a baby. One of the congregations where I served as pastor had a tradition that as part of the Christmas Eve worship service one of the children would be selected to serve as a kind of mini-Mary and bring the Baby Jesus to the manger and then let the celebration begin. For this congregation and the parents of small children, this was a big deal and significant honor. I never really knew, and never wanted to know, how the child was selected; I just knew the kid dressed in a blue bathrobe, with a white towel tied with a blue sash upon her head and asked to carry the ceramic baby Jesus and lay him in the manger was the centerpiece of Christmas Eve worship.
Little Angelina had the honors. She was all of three years old and, trust me; the grandness of the occasion was lost on her. Properly adorned, she kind of trudged, kind of lumbered up the aisle swinging so strongly the ceramic baby Jesus that he was dangerously close to becoming unswaddled. The congregation was in silence save for the “oohs” and “aahs” as Angelina stomped up the altar steps, approached the manger, and with both hands grabbed the ceramic baby Jesus and threw him into the manger. This hurl of the heaven-sent resulted in a loud clang and echoing thud. I’m sure there was some deeper metaphor that should have come to me, yet, all I had was laughter.
C = Cookies. Other than making cookies for a wedding, this is the season when family and friends gather to make some dough….cookies that is. As a kid, I remember my Aunt Jean coming over and with my Mom making incredible homemade nut rolls and snowballs. I still fondly recall being given a spoonful of the rich nut filling and how the first cookie from the batch always tasted the best. Part of the joy of the season is gathering together to make cookies and then putting together cookie trays to share with friends and family. Trust me, Saint Nick isn’t the only one appeased by a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.
D = Dolls. Say what??? Yep, dolls. When my father’s sister would come by at Christmas time bearing gifts for her three nephews and two nieces, every year I hoped my gift would be something…anything… different. My brothers always got great sports-stuff: footballs, great games that involved baseball cards, etc. I don’t recall what my sister got, yet, every year my aunt got me… a baby doll. I’m talking a big, two-foot tall, dressed in lace and finery baby doll. My parents raised me to be polite, so I always said thank you, sat the still-in-the-box-doll down and went to play with my brothers’ stuff. For all I know, there may still be a never opened doll in the attic.
sj;