Christmas Past And The Pitiful Wretch

The Pitiful Wretch

This story doesn't really qualify as a Christmas story but it has Christmas implications. I have been sitting and thinking about what I could write that would express what Christmas means to me. Sometimes it is hard to capture in words what I feel inside with any cohesiveness. This story answers the question of when I first realized that "God loves me!"

I was probably around seven years old. I had got myself into some kind of hot water with my parents. I have no memory of exactly what I had done to get sent to bed early but just for fun lets say it was calling the meatloaf dog food that earned me my exile. As a child I was a quiet drama queen. I say this because the drama was there yet the drama usually took place privately, alone in my room or a closet or any suitable place away from staring faces. I do not like witnesses to my dramas.

As I lay on my bed contemplating my exile I let all pathetic thoughts have free reign. They went something like this: Oh....sob...they don't love me...sob sob. At this point my eyes were flooding with tears. My breathing had taken on what I call the sup-sups. You have all heard this effect when a child cries hard. I was working my way through a box of tissues. Well...that is not entirely true because I was letting the snot mix freely with the tears because this seemed to better express my emotions. I told you I was a quiet drama queen. About at this point my thought process took a new and more pathetic twist. Oh...sob...sup...hiccup...I bet they would miss me if I was gone...if I got really sick and died...they would be sooo sorry!

I had noticed that it was raining outside. I like it when nature matches my mood. At this point I decided that maybe I could make myself sick. Yes...whine...sob. I had an outside door leading into my bedroom because the previous owner of the house was a doctor and my room was part of his offices. In order to preform the "lets get myself sick so everybody will be sorry activity" I needed to avoid being discovered at all costs. I quietly took my drama outside into the rain. Oh...nobody loves me...sob sob sob.

The rain was pouring down washing away all of the tears and all of the snot as well. I was having such a glorious drama all awash in rain and tears and pity. My hair was plastered to my head and my nightdress was soaked. It was at this point that I believe I heard the voice of Jesus.Yes... you read that correctly. I still believe this today. This was not an audible voice but a like a whisper that reverberated through each cell in my body. This was a gentle voice...full of humor yet serious at the same time. The voice simply said "But I love you."

This sums up what Christmas means to me! "But I love you." God sent his son to earth because of my wretchedness . "But I love you." He didn't wait until I had my act together. As a matter of fact, I think that he could hardly wait to send his son to earth. There was such a celebration in the heavens. There were choirs of angels. There was a bright star bathing the earth with glory. There were shouts of proclamation.

In my Christmas past I was a pitiful wretch of a child. Sometimes I am still a pitiful wretch of a child and I still like my dramas private. God still quiets my emotions and He holds my head up when I am sad. To me Christmas is a time to celebrate. I celebrate what God told me in the past...that he love me and what he proclaims in the present...that he still loves me...that is why he came so many years ago.

As a footnote to the above story...I did not become ill and die. I did not even get a bit of the sniffles. I did go back into the house and change into some dry pj's. I no longer let my nose run down my face. I use copious amounts of tissues instead.

Christmas Past

My dad is on the far left. My mom is on the far right. Kent is in the bottom corner.
I am learning to knit.