The Best Christmas Present of All

The Best Christmas Present of All

Sorry to all my tBlog friends; I've been working my tail off to gather funds for my upcoming study abroad trip and have had nil time to myself the past little while. That is why your kind comments have gone unanswered and this blog has gone unupdated. This is also why I would love your donations which can be taken by the little PayPal button in the right panel. Hehe, had to get that in there, ya know.

I'm sure if you bothered to look at the title of this blog you probably put my general blogging history, my screename and that title together to figure this post is going to be some sentimental mush about the gift of Jesus. That's partially true, but mostly not so. Now that I've got your curiosity heightened, let's get some background to this Christmas tale. 

The best Christmas present I received this year was from my grandfather. He's a rather quiet old gentleman and doesn't usually have much to say, except when he feels rather strongly about my grandmother's cooking. So most of what I know of my grandfather I have either observed by his actions or learned from my grandmother's blabber mouth. My grandmother tells me that he grew up on the Texas/Mexico boarder learning Spanish as his first language. I think that alot of his quiet comes from that; being a bit stuck between two languages. Don't get me wrong; he's very fluent in English, but one never truly understands a second language like he does his first, in my opinion. His family always claimed Catholocism, but again, according to Grandma, they weren't much for actually practicing the faith beyond all the pomp and ritual of the church. As a result, Grandad hasn't exactly put faith on the top of his priority list. 

Fast forward to the present. The past two years or so Grandad has made a point to attend church with his family; the actual service, I mean. (He's been coming to all the parties and pot lucks ever since I can remember.) Now, he never has gone to Sunday School with Grandma nor does he stay one minute after noon nor does he attend any other service but Sunday morning. (He says that he's got his "Jesus quota" for the week with that one event.) But he's in church with his family these days and we consider that a blessing.

Now skip to Christmas Eve last week. My family hosted my mom's side's Christmas party which always bumps right into if not over the candle light service at church. Myself and Grandma particularly enjoy that service, so we always excuse ourselves from the party to attend. Grandad and my sister joined us. Grandma and I were rather giddy that we would have company this year. We arrived a wee bit late and so sat on the back row because the room was mostly dark since this was the candle light service. Grandma led the way down the row--the half blind woman leading, this really sounds like the beginning of a really bad joke-- with myself and sister following along behind and Grandad bringing up rear and taking a seat on the edge of the row. We all sang Christmas carols and listened to the Christmas story be read aloud and then came the concluding Communion service. Grandma beckoned Grandad to come sit on the other side of her near the center of the row. (She asked him to because where he was sitting on the edge of the row he would have to take the communion plates. Grandad never takes communion I knew, but Grandma told me later that he actually never even wanted to touch the plates. I suppose that's because he felt it some vile tradition that he not need take part in, seeing as how he doesn't practice the faith anyway.) Grandad complied with her wish because he doesn't argue with Grandma over details-- no one does anymore because she's too stubborn and refuses to see anyone's side but her own. When the plates made it to our row, I took the plate and my communion portion and then passed it down the row to the rest of my assembled family. Lo and behold, when Grandma tried to hand the plates back to the usher, Grandad took hold of those plates with a passion and took his communion portion too. 

Grandma spent the remainder of the service in tears for decades of answered prayers. I was rather awestruck and couldn't hardly even sing the last carol which was ironically befitting: "O Come, All Ye Faithful." Shout your praises to the heavens, you bloggers of faith! A new name has been written down in the Book of Life!

See, I told you this wasn't totally about Jesus being the best Christmas present!