Connecting at Christmas
My girls still speak of that Christmas when our goal kept us connected. It seemed like the busy season always scattered our family in activities and left us feeling disconnected from one another. As a Christian parent I felt it was my duty to pull us together – somehow.
In this effort three years ago, I was talking to my girls, Lynsey and Laura, about God’s gift to us of Jesus. I reminded them that our Father gave because of His love and expected nothing in return. But, I challenged, how could we respond to him who loves us so?
From that theology, I hinted at doing a special project to underscore the message of Christmas. Lynsey, then fifteen, popped up saying, “We can make a gift basket for one of the old folks at church.” Living with a teenager had taught me to seize and rally around any act of outward thoughtfulness, so I encouraged her suggestion. Nine-year-old Laura chimed in, “Yeah, we can put stuff together and give it to ‘em for Christmas.” Several names of senior citizens were mentioned, but we all agreed on “Mr. Paul.”
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Paul Untirkircher, known in our home as Mr. Paul, was cheerful and kind. Every Sunday he worked in the sound booth at church, recording the services for shut-ins. His wife had died that year. They had no children together and Paul’s only relative was his wife’s brother. We agreed it would be a tough Christmas for him.
Throughout the following weeks as our discussions were filled with parties, shopping, rehearsals, baking and gift-wrapping, we thought of Mr. Paul. While baking, we would set aside homemade goodies for him. On a shopping trip, Laura would say, “Mr. Paul will like this,” as we’d tuck her chosen treasure in the shopping cart. Lynsey made a Christmas card for him. Dad jumped in with gift suggestions. We each imagined Mr. Paul’s reaction to the gifts. Lynsey thought he’d cry, Laura said he’d laugh.
The time spent focusing on another person gave me multiple opportunities to remind my girls of God’s gift to us – how satisfied he was in giving us His treasure. As our basket grew along with the anticipation, the girls began arguing over which one would present it. We hurriedly put in our finishing touches.
The Sunday before Christmas arrived and we gently carried our gift into church. Mr. Paul was in his sound booth. Nearly stumbling over each other, Lynsey and Laura eagerly scrambled up the two steps to his tiny, glass-enclosed room. Hearing the commotion, Paul turned and his eyes fell on the basket. “Merry Christmas!” my girls shouted as they shoved it in his direction. With aged arms, Paul cradled the basket and tears welled up in his blue eyes. For a moment there was silence, but volumes were spoken through his grateful expression.
