It’s early morning on Christmas Eve. Early yet, the house is quiet but for the strains of One Small Child coming from the holiday music channel on the TV. It’s dark but for the Christmas tree. The cats are curled up in two balls on the couch, and the dog snuffles quietly in his sleep in front of the fireplace.
It’s early yet. Our granddaughters (and their parents!) won’t be here until the 27th to celebrate Christmas with us. Under our tree there are no presents. Not yet. For now, it’s “one small child in a land of a thousand.”
Not quite 3, the oldest granddaughter will, for the first time, meet the nativity set with the bean-bag-bottomed figures I sewed for her mommy and uncle. A favorite memory of long-ago Christmases is watching her uncle play out the Christmas story while watching it on a video. “See the shepherds kneeling before Him. See the kings on bended knee.”
She has her own wooden nativity set at home, of course. And I have another set, a porcelain set that she may look at, but not play with. No hands-on “see Him lying, a cradle beneath Him; see Him smiling in the stall” with this set until she’s a little older.
Besides, it’s early yet. The cradle is empty. Until Christmas evening, there is simply “one small dream of a Savior tonight.”
But in reality, He has come and gone centuries ago. In reality, He lives forevermore, no longer merely “one small child in a land of a thousand” but “one King bringing us life.”
What’s under YOUR Christmas tree? Just a pile of gifts? Or “One small hand reaching out to the starlight? One small Savior of life? Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh. . .”