Sunday, November 19, 2006

My dear God,

I've been sorting through all my Christmas decorations. I had no idea what I really had. Since I wanted to "unclutter" more of my life, I am putting aside all items I do not use so I can give them to a local shelter.

As I went through the Christmas tree ornaments, memories flooded my mind. Olive wood Christmas bell from Israel, wooden church from Russia, ceramic snowman from Maine, a very small wooden St. Francis from Italy, wooden camels from Egypt, all places where I have traveled. Not to mention family favorites...Salt dough Raggedy Ann and painted by a friend from the 1970's, colorful wooden Mrs. Santa my mom gave me, Santa clothespin I made in the 1960's, a Nativity scene, a wooden sleigh with Santa atop from Grandma H, and various angels I've been given.

But there are three very special ones. The first one is a red shiny ball with a snow scene, the words "Silent Night" lettered on the front. This belonged to my parents. It was Daddy's favorite. Every year when he put up the tree he placed this ornament right on the front. I am sure it is forty or fifty years old. Maybe less. Because Daddy loved it, I kept it out of all the ornaments they owned. I remember him placing it on the tree year after year. I can see his form, his face smiling as he pulled it out of the box. I like having this special decoration on my tree; it brings Daddy home to me once again.

The second one is a green resin Christmas tree with lights, a snowman face peering out with a brown sign that reads, "Christmas play tonight 6:30." Diana gave me this several years ago. A church member, she had been charged with fraud. I stuck like glue to her during those days. She was terrified, living with a husband who couldn't work, sick and trying to do the best she could. I don't know whether she was guilty or not. She was found guilty and spent three months in a downtown jail. I visited once and she asked me not to return. She had to go through a body search each time she had a visitor. She couldn't take it.

A couple years later I invited her to participate in an Advent play. She actually processed a real live camel into the sanctuary. She wore royal clothes as she played one of the wise men.

She was so thrilled to be asked to be part of our Christmas drama. Her self confidence bolstered, she gave me the 1999 ornament and wrote, To Andrea. Love, Diana. I will always remember her.

But the third ornament is probably my most favorite. Wanda handmade it for me.

Wanda showed up at our church years ago. She was homeless, with a little boy tagging along beside her. She was in trouble, her eyes filled with fear and despair. Her husband was an addicted drug dealer.

Wanda was one of five children. Her mother was a schizophrenic. Her father left the family early on, leaving this sick mother to care for her children. They were all taken away and placed in her grandmother's home. She could hardly stand the children, making all of them sleep and stay in the wet basement because she wanted her home perfectly in order. Wanda slept nearest the coal stove and frequently woke up with blisters on her arm.

One near-blizzard day their uncle stopped by to see the kids. The grandmother said they were outside playing with other children. He didn't believe her so he went looking for his nieces and nephews. When he opened the basement door, he was shocked to see the condition of the children and their sleeping quarters. He reported her to authorities and the kids were placed in a children's home. Wanda ran away with her husband-to-be at age 15. The rest was history. He dragged her across the country, living in one shelter or street corner after another. She gave birth to a baby boy on Christmas Eve and was taken by cab to a shelter where she spent Christmas Day.

All her siblings were sick human beings. Two were fried on drugs. I think one was dead. Only one sister seemed capable of a relationship and she lived far away.

I welcomed Wanda into our church. Within a few days she found lodging in a crappy apartment in town. One efficiency room that served as bedroom, living room, and dining room. All three of them lived in the tiny space. Wanda found a job, reluctantly leaving the boy with his father, so she could work, bringing home money for food and rent, and little less.

That first Christmas, cold and wintry, Wanda wore just a sweater to work. She didn't own a coat. Some friends at my church and I bought all kinds of gifts for Wanda and Sean, her son. We gave her a purple coat. She was so proud to wear it. She had never owned such a beautiful coat, she told me. Tears welled in her eyes as she bent down from her 6' frame to hug me.

The next Christmas she kicked out her husband and began a new life. One day she came by my home, walking, of course, she didn't own a car. She gave me a carefully wrapped gift and urged me to open it. It was a purple felt coat Christmas ornament, complete with white pearls for buttons and a white dove with red hearts. She had handstitched the ornament. Now tears formed in my eyes as I looked at the beaming woman whose life had been transformed. She had gotten her GED and learned to drive. She was later given a used car and found a job at a county hospital. Then she moved to be closer to her work. No ornament could be more valuable.

Today I thought of Daddy, Diana and Wanda. I felt the warmth of Christmas love as I remembered these three precious people from my past. I suspect the boy in the stable had something to do with it!

Wondrous God,
symbols of Christmas
bring out the best in me.
You have woven lives with mine,
exemplifying the glorious gift of life,
relationship, and love.
The ornaments on my tree
will be more than adornments;
they represent human lives
who have made me a better person.
I will sit alone before the tree
on Christmas Eve night,
white lights glowing,
and remember
the glorious gifts
you have brought me.
A shimmering ball,
a Christmas tree
and a beautiful purple coat.
Emmanuel.

Love always, Andrea