Several years ago I began writing Christmas stories that were told in church services with candles and soft music in hopes of making one less sermon more touching and meaningful. So, in light of yesterday's look into Luke 2:9,10; here is one of those stories...
Tragedy comes and shows no favoritism to the time of year. Whenever Joyce would hear of other people’s unfortunate experiences she would usually express her concern upon hearing the bad news. Her words were always the same, short and to the point. “That’s too bad. I’m really sorry.” After all, what more could she say? If the truth were known, she would have to admit she couldn’t understand the extent of another person’s pain. To understand what someone else is feeling you need a point of reference, an experience of similar kind, a problem to which you can relate. However, Joyce wasn’t in the habit of dealing with problems. Having come from a loving home, she married her High School sweetheart who turned into a wonderful husband and gave her two beautiful children and a great home with good schools. She never lacked for anything. In fact, friends called hers, a “charmed” life.
Joyce wouldn’t call it a problem, but it is always something of a chore to take the children shopping with her. Matthew who is four and a half is full of energy and curious. Natalie, who is two years old isn’t as much of a bother as her double wide, fully equipped, industrial strength, triple axle stroller; complete with changing table and bottle warmer... Set up and teardown takes eight and six minutes respectively.
However, in her usual manner Joyce prepared for a daylong excursion. This was a much-anticipated trip to shopper’s paradise. Having carefully selected many of the gifts she intended on buying, through diligent research of catalogues and newspaper advertisements, her itinerary was set. So, with diaper bag packed, both children bundled in down jackets and mittens, Joyce grabbed her wallet and list, buckled both children into their car seats and backed her four-wheel drive SUV down the driveway and toward the mall.
Upon arriving, she quickly noticed the parking lot was already full of eager Christmas shoppers. And though she knew the prospects of finding a parking place close to the entrance to be slim she drove up and down the lot a couple of times only to find a spot still a good walking distance to the door. While she began to unfold the stroller, there must have been three or four cars that drove up waiting to see if she was coming or going. They quickly sped off upon realizing that the wait wasn’t worth the wait.
Finally inside the mall, shedding jackets and mittens, Joyce began her mission. The morning went well finding all but two of the things on her list. Lunch provided the usual stop at the food court then it was back to shopping. Midday brought a stop at the cookie place; a reward because the children were behaving quite well. Then back for one final round of shopping.
It must have been the sugar from the cookie and the absence from his afternoon nap that made Matthew a little more restless than usual. Joyce knew time was running out and she needed to wrap up her day of shopping bliss. So, as she was deciding between a Cashmere sweater and a lace blouse for her Aunt Charlotte, she noticed that Matthew was no longer beside the stroller. Now, Matthew had a habit of getting inside the circular clothing racks and hiding in the hollow center. Although it often annoyed Joyce, she usually found the impromptu game of Hide-and-Go-Seek somewhat amusing. However this was not one of those times.
She began to call out his name. Pulling back pants and shirts and jackets she began to feel a little churning in her stomach. Trying not to panic quietly she searched the entire store. When she did not find Matthew the churning became a rumble and she began to have difficulty breathing. For the first time in her life, Joyce was terrified, truly terrified. Walking up to the clerk at the overly busy cash register, Joyce who would always politely wait her turn blurted out, “Missing!” deep breath, “My son is…” another gasp, “Missing.”
Not knowing how to respond, the clerk stood silent until a person standing at the counter said, “Are you sure?” The look in Joyce’s eyes was confirmation enough for the clerk to call security. After dozens of questions and a complete recounting of the day’s activities Joyce maintained her composure. It wasn’t until she was asked by the local Sheriff’s department to lend a photograph of the young boy that she broke down. She had a favorite picture of the little boy his sister called Mah – Hew. Big grin, cheeks bulging with candy as he wore a pirate costume on Halloween two years ago. Seeing that photo brought on a realization of what she was doing. Asking people she didn’t know to find a boy they never met in a world that displays a child’s picture on milk cartons and postcards in hopes that other strangers will recognize the face. Then the words of the deputy came with a chilling affect. “Go home Mrs. Nelson. We’ll call you as soon as we know something.” “Go home.” She thought. How could she? What kind of mother just drives away leaving her child behind? Then she realized, she hadn’t even called to tell her husband what had happened and it was well beyond the expected time for her return. She called but the phone was busy. Perhaps the best place was for her to go home.
After more than a dozen assurances from the deputy that they would notify her as soon as anything developed, Joyce headed for the car. Only this time after quickly outfitting Natalie, she somehow forgot to put on her own jacket and mittens. The stroller full of shopping bags just seamed to find it’s way into the back of her car and soon she was in her kitchen crying in the arms of a stunned and speechless husband.
Then the doorbell rang. In a near footrace Joyce was the first to get to the door. Anxiously opening the door, she saw a little boy standing before her wearing an oversized olive drab coat with a fake fur collar and patches on the shoulder. And though in her mind she was speaking eloquently, in the elation of seeing her lost son again, all she could muster was the sound of a faint squeal as she grasped him in a way that said she would never let him go.
As her husband attended to the Sheriff’s deputy account of what happened, Joyce remembered the looks on the faces of those standing in the check out line. It’s as if they were saying, “That’s too bad, I’m really sorry”… What she would have given for one of those people to step out of line and start looking for Matthew.
That night after Matthew and Natalie were safely tucked in bed, Joyce was reminded of another announcement that a Son was found. Held in a manger and proclaimed by an angel, the words were delivered to shepherds who were as the Bible describes… terrified. But the angel said, “Do not be afraid for I bring glad tidings of great joy.”
Joyce, lay awake most of that night thinking about what a wonderful gift she had been given that day. Certainly, not once in any of the stores she had walked through had she found anything quite like it.
