Last Christmas I was asked to lead a devotional for a pastoral event. The first thing I thought of was how all of the guests already knew that “Jesus is the reason for the season”, and if I even once used a cliché phrase like "And that's what Christmas is really about", I'd probably never hear the end of it. With that in mind, I knew that Christmas is a time to share stories, so that's what I decided to do.
About five Christmases ago, my mother, my three younger siblings and I were all busily preparing for the holiday season. As a family growing up in Toronto, we loved having Christmas parties. We would stretch out this massive roll of brown paper across the kitchen wall, and on it we'd draw our December calendar, filling in as many dates as we could with Christmas events. My events would be decorated with snowmen, my sister's with Christmas trees - everyone had their own identifying symbol. We always wanted to get the most out of Christmas, and you can't do that without meticulous organization. This year, we were planning a particularly big Christmas party, where we'd be inviting friends from every corner of the GTA. Invitations had been sent out. We'd moved furniture to better accommodate the crowd we were expecting. My sister had prepared a tastefully classic Christmas playlist to fill our home with that good old Christmas feeling.
Then, three days before Christmas Eve, it came. The papers called it a "Catastrophic Christmas Disaster". A brutal ice storm had blown in from the east, blanketing the GTA in a thick layer of freezing rain. Sidewalks became skating rinks. The entire highway became one big game of bumper cars. Trees were so thickly coated that they tinkled and chimed in the wind as their ice-swallowed branches click-clacked against each other.
Our biggest Christmas party of the year - the biggest party we'd ever planned - collapsed almost instantaneously. Our friends sent their apologies and wished us well, but we were flattened. To me, it almost wasn't Christmas without good friends. But hey, at least the lights were still on.
Sunday morning - two days before Christmas Eve - the power went out across all of Toronto. Over three hundred thousand people watched the lights blink out and the heaters shut down. One of the city's officials called it "One of the worst storms we've ever had". The mayor's voice was broadcast across whatever televisions still worked, but if you remember the mayor in 2013, you'll understand why this brought little comfort to the family.
My mother got us to hunker down for one evening in our home - all of us sleeping with three or four blankets each, as well as wearing multiple pairs of socks. But when morning came and the power didn't, she decided it was time to try something else. Specifically, our grandparent's house.
Just outside of the silent frost-covered city lived my grandma and grandpa, electricity still contentedly humming through their home. And with three mitten-muffled knocks on the door, they welcomed us in. My grandfather was overjoyed. As the years have gone by, his memory has faded more and more, but he's never forgotten how much he loves people - particularly his family. Now my grandmother - well, she's a wonderful woman. She loves hearing about what's new in your life, and she's incredibly generous. She was happy to see us, but she had only married my grandfather some ten or so Christmases ago. Most of her life she had lived alone - and she had never had kids of her own. So when four teenagers stumbled in and brushed the snow off their coats and onto her welcome mat...let's just say that my mom did a smart thing taking us out for a few drives over the next two days.
It was crowded. My brother and I slept on a rollaway bed in the middle of the living room. My two sisters shared a bed in what was normally an office, and my mother slept in the guest room. There was one bathroom in that house. I don't think grandma had ever experienced such noise before 10 a.m. her life. I could tell you that we all got along beautifully and that there was not even a hint of tension, but when you're that close together, it's inevitable. And hey, our Christmas plans had been thrown out the window. We weren't used to this.
Now, every year, my mom has a tradition of watching A Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve. It's an old black and white version starring Alastair Sim. She and her sister - oh yeah, we have an aunt too, and she came to the house as well - my mom and her sister know every line. So Christmas Eve, we all cozied up on the one couch in the living room. Some of us sat on the floor, and my sister slid the DVD into the player. My grandmother isn't normally one for movies - they're a gateway to sin, as you know - but she made an exception this evening. Movies are harder and harder for my grandfather to watch these days as remembering the whole plot can be difficult, but those five Christmases ago he was able to track through the whole film - even tearing up at the end when Scrooge vowed to be a better man.
I think often about the family that my grandfather built, and moments like that wintry Christmas Eve where we were all together. I don't know all the steps that he took to get his family to where we are today, and it's become harder and harder to ask him. But I know that he has spent a lifetime investing in his daughters and grandchildren. He brought up for me a loving mother who is dedicated to God and fiercely loyal to those around her. He taught me the value of finding value in old things. He taught me that just because it ain't broke doesn't mean it can't use a tune-up. He even taught me how to whistle. He laid the groundwork for the family that I would become a part of without even knowing that I would ever exist.
And though my grandfather has on occasion forgotten one or two of our names as the Christmases have come and gone, he's never forgotten the jokes that he's made hundreds and hundreds of times. He still has the same warm, friendly handshake that he's always had. And he's never forgotten the words to "His Eye Is On The Sparrow". "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."
And so Christmas morning came, where we opened stockings and ate a big hearty breakfast of waffles, bacon, and eggs. And as if by the power of a Christmas miracle, the morning radio announced that the power had finally been restored to our neighbourhood. It was the best Christmas I'd ever had. And it came without our event calendar. Heck, it came without electricity. It's a Christmas that I hope to one day tell my grandchildren about. And it's that Christmas that reminds me that the foundation Jenna and I are building today will be for them tomorrow.
So this Christmas, with all the events and celebrations we've worked so hard to put on during this crazy season, I want to remind you that even when things go wrong, it's all good because they make great stories. And I want to remind you that you have no idea the impact your work might have for the next generation. Your hard work - your gifts - can change everything. That's what Jesus' gift did. He laid the foundation that's changed generation after generation all the way down to my grandfather, and then down to my mother, and then down to me.
And that's what Christmas is really about.
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If you liked this, check out some of Matthew's other Christmas projects.