When Dr. Haley first asked me to be a part of the Holiday Assembly and share a Christmas memory, I knew almost right away what I wanted to say. And yet, as the days went by, I found myself becoming more and more scared of actually saying it. This happens to me quite often. When presented with the opportunity to speak from the heart, finding the words is easy, but finding the courage to do so is such a struggle. And so forgive me if my voice shakes a little
Today I’d like to tell you not only about my favorite Christmas memory, but also about my favorite Christmas story, and how they relate to one another. I’ll try to keep it short.
My favorite Christmas memory isn’t perhaps so much of a memory – as in…it isn’t a specific moment in time – but rather more of a feeling. Or a thought. Or a belief.
To me, what makes Christmas the most beautiful time of year, is the fact that it exists in the realm of childhood. Christmas is magic, but magic exists only in the heart of children, because children haven’t seen enough of the world yet to know how dark it truly is, and so they just believe.
When I was a child, knowing as little as I did about darkness, I believed that somewhere in the universe there was a secret magic that made all bad things go away, even if just for a day. And I called that secret magic Christmas.
When I was a child, I believed that for one day of the year, nothing bad could happen. Wars couldn’t be fought, children couldn’t go hungry, people couldn’t die, hearts couldn’t be broken.
That’s incredibly naive, isn’t it? Silly even. That childish hope in a hopeless world. That innocent belief in the unbelievable and the impossible.
And yet, how hopeless is it really? And is there truly anything impossible in this endless universe?
My favorite Christmas story is a true story. It’s a story about hope in a hopeless world. It’s unbelievable and impossible, and yet, it really did happen.
It’s 1914. World War 1 is in its first months. In the beginning everyone thought the whole thing would be over quickly and that soldiers would be back home in time for Christmas. But war is never that kind.
It’s now December, and British and German soldiers are across from each other in no man’s land. They have been fighting and killing one another for a long time now, and they’re starting to realize they’re not going home anytime soon. Maybe they’re not going home at all. Hope is fading away.
Then it’s Christmas Eve, and after days and days of only hearing the sounds of guns being fired and lives being lost…suddenly, you hear singing. That’s all it takes. German soldiers start singing a Christmas song. And before you know it, everyone’s singing. German and British. They stop fighting, even if just for a moment. They meet in the middle and they sing and shake hands and exchange gifts. They tell stories, they bury their dead together, they play football.
I mean it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Unbelievable. And quite possibly the most beautiful thing that ever happened in this world. Kindness in the middle of war.
How often did that happen in history? Not often at all. But something only needs happen once for it to become undeniable proof that it can happen. That’s called hope. It’s the secret magic of the universe.
And so maybe children aren’t that silly, are they? Maybe there’s something to it. To the childish hope in a hopeless world. To the innocent belief in the unbelievable and the impossible. Maybe the darkness isn’t absolute. Maybe this world really can be a better place.
And so that’s my favorite Christmas memory. The childish/naive belief that somewhere in the universe there is a secret magic that makes all bad things go away. And although I don’t call that Christmas anymore, Christmas is still the time that helps me remember it.
As we grow up, as we grow old, there are certain things about childhood we shouldn’t leave behind. This is one of them. Hope.
Thank you.
