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The
child’s eyes are big, blue question marks.
Everything he sees is a wonder.
It’s
funny how Christmas time can change the attitude of
America. (Or is that only a part of America?) I see
people bundled up in coats, smiling at a stranger who
jokes at the gas prices and then sends off a Yuletide
greeting to whoever may be close enough to hear. The
Christmas lights are more abundant than ever before;
in the windows of small gift shops and dangling from
the eves of every-other house in the town/city/nation.
The hearths are dusty with ashes - glowing flames lick
at the scent of pine and cedar. The companies diss on
homemade gifts such as fruit cake and tree ornaments
while my mom bakes homemade fruit cake and I build tree
ornaments with my sisters. A new bird feeder with a
thermometer and a digital display to show the temperature
is put up in front of a frosty window.
Every direction I look I can see a dozen billboards
"quicker","better", "cheaper"," more popular" items
of necessity that nobody knew about a year ago. I
listen to the radio in hopes of learning the weather
conditions, but there are so many advertisements and
the news reporters are talking about the Pokemon phenomenon
for the ninth time in the hour so I turn to a Christian
music station. It isn’t coming through very well and
at last I give up and turn the volume all the way
down.
People
who still have a few items on their shopping lists rush
and bustle in through automatic doors as thin Santas
constantly ring little bells in the cold air, only half-heartedly
hoping for a donation from someone who doesn’t want
to carry any pocket change around through the next ten
stores. Inside the store, I see dozens of cardboard,
snow-covered candy canes. The "Real Santa" is sitting
among them, talking to a bored looking elf who is playing
with his pager. All the kids are over on aisle 9 (toys).
I find a few boxes of Christmas lights and head to the
cashier.
In front of me is a mother who has done enough shopping
for three Christmases. Her young son is with her.
The little boy is grabbing at things and putting them
in his small mouth. He ignores his mother’s exasperated
remarks and looks all about him with the innocent
awe of a one-year-old. His attention is drawn to the
bright red sweater of the man who stands in another
line which isn’t moving quite as fast as my own. The
child’s eyes are big, blue question marks. Everything
he sees is a wonder. I think to myself about how with
age comes drab... if we let it. The Christmas lights
become another chore to take care of, the tree is
a pain to buy and lug into the living room, the birth
of a baby boy who would one day bring eternal life
to whoever was willing to accept it is remembered
by only a few and some remember only out of a feeling
of obligation. Yet, this child in front of me holds
every thing in his sight with wonder and excitement.
I pray silently that I will remain as the little child;
believing and watching with awe as I grow in Christ:
hoping that despite all the hustle and bustle I will
never cease to be amazed at the gift that came to
earth two thousand years ago. I pray that more people
will turn to Christ and accept the greatest gift of
all time. So many have rejected it while others have
never heard. And to think that all this time, the
answer to all life’s questions is celebrated every
year and can be read about in a book found in a cheap
motel room.
Written
Christmas of 1999.
This story has been writen, translated, edited,
corrected, and critiqued by Isaac Smith. All
rights reserved. Please send questions or comments
to lil_ol_me73@hotmail.com
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