A Christmas Journey: A Christmas Eve Service of Candles and Carols
Devotional
A Christmas Journey
A Collection of Resources for Advent and Christmas
Object:
Home Alone For Christmas
Those days in December had always been delightful. The expectation turning to anticipation as the children would migrate home for the holidays. First it was college that took them to distant destinations. That was bearable because breaks and summers guaranteed their frequent return. However, it didn't take a prophet to see that career and marriage would reduce those returns.
Then it happened: "I'll be home for Christmas" became "I wish I could, but...." After years of Christmases filled with children and presents, we were home alone for Christmas. At first, there wasn't any Christmas for the Grinch to steal, for it had all the makings of a blue Christmas. The well-wishers' "Merry Christmas" only intensified the feeling of loneliness. Maybe old Scrooge had it right after all!
There were no chestnuts on the open fire, but as the embers flickered their last, they sparked the thought, "untended fires soon die." Part of the pain of Christmas was not having family home, of being home alone. Would anyone venture into this world that was cold and gray instead of merry and bright? Would they see the tears or scurry away, embarrassed because of them? Would they see that there were only embers in the hearth of heart?
The cheer of "I'll be home for Christmas" came from unlikely sources. The teenager, with an infectious smile, bagging groceries. The store was a zoo, yet there was a serenity about him that touched my heart. The unexpected phone call from a friend from years gone by fanned the embers a little more. When asked what prompted the call, the reply came: "After all these years, the Lord brought you to mind. So I took a chance you might still be at this old number."
We went to the Christmas Eve service by ourselves, alone. At first it was tough to watch as families filled pews; a reminder of what was missing this Christmas. But that changed as we were swept up in the mystery and miracle of Christmas, the candles, and the carols working their magic. The memories of Christmas brought a smile. The last carol was sung by candlelight. And then we joined hands to pray. That's when we knew we were no longer home alone for Christmas!
Those days in December had always been delightful. The expectation turning to anticipation as the children would migrate home for the holidays. First it was college that took them to distant destinations. That was bearable because breaks and summers guaranteed their frequent return. However, it didn't take a prophet to see that career and marriage would reduce those returns.
Then it happened: "I'll be home for Christmas" became "I wish I could, but...." After years of Christmases filled with children and presents, we were home alone for Christmas. At first, there wasn't any Christmas for the Grinch to steal, for it had all the makings of a blue Christmas. The well-wishers' "Merry Christmas" only intensified the feeling of loneliness. Maybe old Scrooge had it right after all!
There were no chestnuts on the open fire, but as the embers flickered their last, they sparked the thought, "untended fires soon die." Part of the pain of Christmas was not having family home, of being home alone. Would anyone venture into this world that was cold and gray instead of merry and bright? Would they see the tears or scurry away, embarrassed because of them? Would they see that there were only embers in the hearth of heart?
The cheer of "I'll be home for Christmas" came from unlikely sources. The teenager, with an infectious smile, bagging groceries. The store was a zoo, yet there was a serenity about him that touched my heart. The unexpected phone call from a friend from years gone by fanned the embers a little more. When asked what prompted the call, the reply came: "After all these years, the Lord brought you to mind. So I took a chance you might still be at this old number."
We went to the Christmas Eve service by ourselves, alone. At first it was tough to watch as families filled pews; a reminder of what was missing this Christmas. But that changed as we were swept up in the mystery and miracle of Christmas, the candles, and the carols working their magic. The memories of Christmas brought a smile. The last carol was sung by candlelight. And then we joined hands to pray. That's when we knew we were no longer home alone for Christmas!

