When I look back on previous Christmases, memories flash through my mind as snapshots. Family cinnamon bun baking. Christmas cookies. Prepping peanut butter cups before pouring chocolate over top. Opening my digital SLR. My daughter’s joy at seeing Christmas lights. Decorating our first Christmas tree as a married couple. And more…

 

But today, I’d like to reflect on a different sort of memory.

 

I remember the moment in that constructed way we do; in pieces that create a personalized whole of the experience. It was a quiet moment. The fireplace cast warmth over the room as we lounged in various places around the basement. White Christmas was playing on the TV – A family favourite.

 

Some might look at us and see an idyllic picture of post-christmas bliss, but if you were to look closely, you might see that while we were draped about the basement in Christmas pajamas, a phone was placed within easy reach and blankets were clutched tightly. Our repose would begin to show signs of strain. All the while, the sultry baritone of Bing Crosby crooning his iconic Christmas melody drifted through the air. 

 

It had started as a very typical Christmas. Hors d’oeuvres for dinner. Opening pajamas around the tree. Christmas stories before bed. Into bed with the giddy anticipation of waking early to rip open our stockings. It was also a special year, because it was one of the years where our paternal grandparents were there. In fact, they lived in an ensuite in the house. Everything glistened and glowed. It was all going as planned and filled with joy.

Until it wasn’t.

 

We aren’t sure the exact reasons, but it boiled down to a miscalculated medication by my grandpa. He was not well. In fact, he was unwell enough to need to go to the hospital at 4am. Instead of waking to the excitement of Christmas morning activities — stocking, breakfast, presents, etc –, we woke to panic and pandemonium. The morning was put on pause, an ambulance was called, and grandpa, mom, and grandma went to the hospital. The visit turned out to be a precaution and everything was okay, but we didn’t know that at the time, so in our Christmas pajamas, we hovered awkwardly, not knowing what to do next – except to worry.

 

In that moment, my dad suggested we go to the basement to watch a Christmas show. I remember being unsure about this… the breakfast was unmade, the presents still in paper, and nothing was right. As a kid, routine can be soothing and familiar. What was happening was the opposite. 

 

And yet, we all piled downstairs with cozy items and settled in front of the TV with White Christmas. 

 

I’m going to pause my story here and tell you that Pastor Sandra told me my topic was “most memorable Christmas ever” and I mulled over that prompt for so long. And you’re thinking, “Colleen, how could this possibly be the ‘most memorable Christmas’?!” It isn’t. Not in the way you might expect. While I considered the many memories I had, I couldn’t meet the superlative or “most”. I’ve had so many that I enjoyed – beautiful memories that live like an Instagram feed in my mind – but I needed to tell this one. It was memorable, and it also showed me something.

 

While in the quiet basement with my dad and siblings, I remember some of the stress and strain of the worry melting away and being replaced by a beautiful feeling of peace. In a moment where panic and concern and worry could have taken over, this unlikely peace was present. There was this quiet sense of calm despite everything. 

 

Reflecting on this memory, I’m reminded of the angels greeting the shepherds. The shepherds were startled. Things were going along as planned. It was quiet. Sheep were munching on grass. It was just a normal, routine night. Then all of the sudden an angel appears and fills the sky with light. Talk about out of the ordinary! And the angel says, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people” (Luke 2:10, NIV). I’m not sure about you, but the first thing that I would have thought to be in that moment was afraid. When the out of the ordinary or out of routine occurs, we often react with fear, concern, worry. The angel addresses this immediately. And then, despite the shock, the surprising news, and the glorious chorus, the shepherds pause their ordinary night in a conscious effort to notice the extraordinary. They even leave the field to go see Jesus (Luke 2:8-16, NIV).

 

In that quiet moment in the basement, I was able to pause a busy yet routine morning and savour the peace we felt together – a sense of comfort in what was a nerve wracking situation. I will always treasure that moment with my dad and my siblings. There was just something perfect in that moment, despite how it came about. Later that evening, all back together with guests, we celebrated Christmas. Years later, I don’t remember what gifts I had or what we ate, but I remember that moment.

 

Christmas can be hard. Sometimes we are faced with the unexpected, the sad, or the difficult, but I hope that in this season Christ will give you peace. That you will feel a calm moment within the chaos of tradition and busyness. 

 

Jesus’ words in John 16:33 (NIV) are a reminder to us that his peace is with us: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

 

Wishing each and every one of you a Christmas of new, beautiful memories, and moments of reflection and peace.