As with most people in America, my wife and I love to spend
Christmas with our family, and we have always been fortunate enough to do
that. Well almost always. The first ten
years of our marriage we lived in sunny California and our parents couldn’t wait
to spend the Holidays with us, getting out of the Midwest’s cold and snow. Later, we had a great time sharing our son
with his grandparents every year. We always made a big deal out of every bit of
Christmas with the family every year, except one.
For our fourth Christmas together, neither set of parents
could get out to be with us. So it was
just the two of us that year. We had
moved to Pasadena, California on the first of December and we didn’t really
know anyone there. Because we were at a loss to know what to do with ourselves,
on Christmas Eve we went to a big mall.
We had no shopping to do, because we had mailed our presents to our
family weeks before. Instead, we slowly wandered the mall, looking around and
generally getting in the way of all the last minute shoppers. Then, we went home and took the dog for a
walk while looking at the Christmas lights in our neighborhood. Our TV was on the fritz, so we listened to
the radio. The L.A. stations had radio drama
specials on that night—three different productions of “A Christmas Carol.” Tina went to bed after the second one, but I
heard all three sitting in the dark looking at our Christmas tree.
The next morning we got up early and opened our
presents. That was fun, but with only
the two of us it didn’t take very long.
We decided to go out for breakfast.
There was a little café around the corner named Tiny Naylor’s. It was an interesting place that
morning. The first thing we noticed was
that we were the youngest people in the place, by about 30 years. The next thing we noticed was that almost
everyone was sitting alone. There were a
few other couples, but a lot of the tables had just one occupant. We ordered and watched the people. The waitresses
were extra cheery. They seemed to understand
that their customers were lonely folks.
Instead of feeling resentful that they had to work, they realized that
the folks they were serving needed someone to be nice to them. Everyone took his or her time eating
breakfast. I think most of them had no
place else to go. Tina and I felt very
lucky, because even though it was just the two of us that morning, we had an
invitation to dinner with one of the families in our new church, and my wife’s
parents would be with us in a couple of days.
I’ll never forget that morning because it was the first time
I realized how lonely Christmas can be for people who are unattached. Those folks were lonely … and quiet. I have always wondered what was in their
thoughts. I’m sure some were mourning the
passing of a loved one or a relationship that had ended. Others were probably harboring anger and
bitterness toward someone. Still others
may well have been glad to be alone so they didn’t have to put up with the
people in their families that day. I’m
pretty sure that many of them just wanted the day to be over so they could get
back to their regular lives. Perhaps
there were others who, like my wife and I, were just biding time until they
could join a celebration with people they loved.
I still love the presents (both giving and receiving) the
music, the movies, the church presentations, the decorations, everything. But the memory of that breakfast at Tiny
Naylor’s keeps me sensitive to those who don’t enjoy the season the way I
do. It also helps keep the wonder of the
real meaning of Christmas the main thing for me. Whether or not we celebrate with family and
friends, and whether or not we enjoy the traditional celebrations, it is
important to remember that it is all about God’s Son being born to show His
love for us and to redeem us from our sins.
That, my friends, is cause for celebration under any circumstances—big
and brassy, or low key and quiet.
