As I watch the eyes of children bubble with delight at all the signs of Christmas, I'm flooded with my own childhood memories. The time I caught sight of my father in the gangway (only people who grew up in Chicago know what a gangway is), carrying a child's kitchen stove and refrigerator, made not of plastic, or tin, but corrugated cardboard. Yippee, I was getting my Christmas wish. Another Christmas memory involved a beloved book that had a green tissue paper Christmas tree in the inside cover. I loved opening that book and hearing the crinkle of the green tissue paper opening up the wonder of Christmastime stories. However, surpassing all other memories were the warm emotions endowed by the Angel that topped our Christmas tree each year.
Simplistic, yet ethereal, she was the embodiment of the Christmas season for me. She wore a blue dress and was kneeling on top of a glittering snow covered globe. There was a silver paper crown on her head, resembling the sun's corona, and silver paper wings that were stapled to her back. Her hands were clasped in prayer as she bowed in a humble, yet profound way to signal the birth of the Creator. Her presence on top of the tree seemed to assure that nothing would interfere with the celebration of Christmas. She was the protector of the holiday and nothing would move her. Christmas and all it's wonder and peace were unmovable under her watch. I don't remember what happened to her. Perhaps her wings became detached or she tumbled to the floor, breaking; or even maybe she was discarded for a more modern version. I don't remember. But recently she came back to me!
Of all places to find a memory of Christmas past was Target. Yet, there she was, my childhood Angel, with a few alterations. She is still kneeling in prayer on a white, frosted globe; though, now dressed in pale pink with a large crown of silver weave. Her silver paper wings have been replaced with wings of white feathers touched with iridescent glitter. Her demeanor is like my childhood angel, with an important difference. My childhood Angel was an adult; strong, steady, powerful, ready to take on anyone or anything that would interfere with Christmas. My Target Angel instead resembles a child. She is someone who is disengaged from daily battles and is pausing to pray. I believe that is the lesson for me today.
God sends us different angels at different times in our lives. He sends adult angels when we're children and need protection, and childlike angels when we're adults and need to be reminded that we should become more childlike, especially at Christmas. We, too, have to disengaged ourselves from the daily battles of work, traffic, and television news. If Christmas is to remain the turning point of human existence, really the turning point of our existence; we need to approach it like a child in prayer, humbly entreating the intercession of a Savior, like my pink, Target Angel.
Then he said to them, "I can guarantee this truth: Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3
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