Poinsettias were everywhere. The Christmas Tree was heavy with ornaments. Christmas music sung by the choir and accompanied expertly by the pianist was inspirational. There were candles lit and their mysterious flickering lent an aura of something special happening. The pastor began to preach about the birth of the baby Jesus. He spoke in the manner of Dickens’s time and his words impacted as if the Christmas Eve Service was being held in Victorian England. You could breathe in the expectancy of the event and feel the Spirit of Christmas sitting next to you on the ancient pews.

The old church was a magnificent structure. Stained glass windows adorned both sides of the sanctuary. The pews were full and folks were standing in the back. The organist was adept at her craft and the subsequent sound was heavenly. The angels sat on the crafted beams of the vaulted ceiling. In a moment Billy B felt the meaning of Christmas. He had searched for a church that kept Christmas Well…

Behind Billy B was a mother and father and their two daughters. They had felt alone for most of their time in the small city. Billy B could hear one of the girls’ coughs and noticed that she had a runny nose. The little family had decided at the last minute to attend the Christmas Eve service in a final effort to find the meaning of Christmas in a little town that seemed clannish and segmented among old friends and acquaintances.

The lights were turned off as each person’s little candle was lit. Smiles emanated from the forgotten family as the minister lit each of their candles and wished them Merry Christmas…

‘Silent night, holy night All is calm, and all is bright’

‘Round yon Virgin Mother and Child Holy infant so tender and mild’

Sleep in heavenly peace Sleep in heavenly peace…’ Silent Night

Tears of joy streamed down Dad’s face. Mom grabbed his hand as well as her daughter’s hands.

No longer would they be…alone…