Friends, here’s a nice little story for any time during the Christmas
season. The origin is unknown.
Bass


Henry Carter, a pastor and an administrator of a home for
emotionally disturbed children, tells of an encounter he had one
Christmas Eve that gave him a new insight and perspective. He
was busy with last minute preparations for the worship service,
when one of the floor mothers came to say that Tommy had
crawled under his bed and refused to come out. He followed her
up the stairs and looked at the bed she pointed out. Not a hair or a
toe showed beneath it. So he talked to Tommy as if he were
addressing the bucking broncos on the bedspread. He talked about
the brightly lighted tree, the packages underneath it and the other
good things that were waiting for Tommy out beyond that bed.

No answer.

Still fretting about the time this was costing, Henry dropped to his
hands and knees and lifted the spread. Two enormous blue eyes
looked out at him. Tommy was 8, but looked like a 5 year-old. He
could easily have pulled him out. But it wasn't pulling that Tommy
needed - it was trust and a sense of deciding things on his own
initiative. So, crouched on all fours, Henry launched into the menu
of the special Christmas Eve supper to be offered after the service.
He told of the stocking with Tommy's name on it, provided by the
Women's Society.

Silence. There was no indication Tommy heard or that he even
cared about Christmas.

At last, because he could think of no other way to make contact,
Henry got down on his stomach and wriggled in beside Tommy,
snagging his sport coat on the bedsprings on the way. He lay there
with his cheek pressed against the floor for a long time. He talked
about the big wreath above the altar and the candles in the window.
He talked about the carols all the kids were going to sing. Then,
finally running out of things to say, he simply waited there beside
Tommy.

After a bit, a small child's chilled hand slipped into his. Henry
said,"You know, Tommy, it is kind of close quarters under here.
Let's you and me go out where we can stand up." As they slid out
from under the bed, Henry realized he had been given a glimpse of
the mystery of Christmas. Hadn't God called us too, as God had
called Tommy, from far above us? With God’s stars and mountains
and God’s whole majestic creation, hadn't God pleaded with us to
love God and to enjoy the universe God gave us as a gift?

And when we wouldn't listen, God had drawn closer. Through the
prophets and lawgivers, God spoke to us in them.

But it was not until that first Christmas, until God stooped to earth
it self, until God took our very place and came to dwell with us in
our loneliness and alienation, that we, like Tommy, dared to stretch
out our hands to take hold of God’s love.

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Bass Mitchell, Hot Springs, VA
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