“And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth
to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem,
because he was of the house and family of David,
to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.
While they were there,
the time came for her to have her child,
and she gave birth to her firstborn son.
She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger,
because there was no room for them in the inn.

Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields
and keeping the night watch over their flock.
The angel of the Lord appeared to them
and the glory of the Lord shone around them,
and they were struck with great fear.
The angel said to them,
“Do not be afraid;
for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy
that will be for all the people.
For today in the city of David
a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.
And this will be a sign for you:
you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes
and lying in a manger.”
And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel,
praising God and saying:
“Glory to God in the highest
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”” – Luke 2:4-14

It was Christmas night, 1992.

It was snowing when we left my aunt’s house in Parsippany, New Jersey at the end of our Christmas family gathering.  I was finishing the sixth month of my first pregnancy. My husband Jerry had to work that evening. He delivered contracts and other papers to real estate offices throughout the state of Connecticut. He would be driving his van through the night and into the next morning. I decided to ride along with him. I didn’t want him to be alone on a snowy Christmas night.

I had packed snacks and water for the ride, knowing that most businesses on the route would be closed for the holiday. I had also packed a book that I thought I would read out loud to him as he drove. When I would ride with him, I would always bring something to read to him, books, magazines, trivia questions, things that would make the night seem to go by more quickly, things that would help to keep us awake. The book I brought that night was titled, I believe, “A Book of Angels.” It was filled with stories two or three pages long, stories of miracles, things unexplainable except for the intervention of a loving God, who in these particular instances, seemed to use His angels to do His work here on Earth.

The night seemed sacred as we sped along from sleepy town to sleepy town. The world was hushed and tucked in as the snow fell. For most of the night, the only light as we travelled were the headlights of our van. As we pulled into many small-town, main center squares, we would happen upon live Nativity mangers, the frosted breath of sheep and other farm animals greeting us in the cold winter night air. The animals never seemed surprised or alarmed by our unannounced presence there in their gentle silent night.

I read my husband incredible angel story after angel story. Finally in the night, I finished the last story. As I closed the book, we sat quietly for a while. Then in the stillness, he called my name, and as I looked over, he said, “I love you, Reg.” “Of course,” I said. “I love you too.” “No.” he said, “I mean, I really love you.”

I sit here alone tonight, my husband gone now over three years. In the dark here, I hold up these words, this memory, in my hands, like the most valuable of jewels, more valuable than any diamond, any other Christmas gift he ever gave me.

Tonight, after over twenty-seven years, I have a new thought about this memory. As I am pregnant in my memory, and on a journey with my husband, surrounded by love in our van full of stories of God’s angels, I am reminded of another journey taken by another pregnant woman and her husband more than 2000 years ago, this the most sacred of journeys, a journey made by the most holy of women, Mary, pronounced by the angel Gabriel as full of the grace of God. The child she carries is Jesus, the One and Only Son of God. His birth fulfills the prophecies of the ancient Biblical prophets. His entrance into this world on this Eve is announced by a mighty angel to shepherds in their lonely fields. After the angel proclaims the birth of a Savior, the night is filled with the joyous song of a multitude of angels, singing Glory to God.

I am trying to imagine the extraordinary sound of many angels singing “Glory to God in the Highest.” Sometimes I will hear a choir, and I am struck with such emotion at the beauty as they sing. I can’t begin to know how this wondrous miracle of joy sounded to the half-drowsy shepherds on this night.

I have felt many emotions the past few weeks leading up to Christmas. I can’t pretend that I haven’t felt sadness and even anxiety as the days were counting down. I would have thought that maybe I was on my way to healing after these few years. But the holiday memories cause pain.

Tonight, though, is different. Tonight, as I remember love on a Christmas night 27 years ago, I am thinking of that Night when God, with great Joy, gave the world the Immeasurable Treasure of His Only Son Jesus. I am visualizing Earth, in a cloud of God’s Peace and God’s Love, as He holds up His Son in His Hands, the most valuable Gift He would ever give, and angels are filling the world with the most beautiful song of Joy. As in our van, Earth is surrounded with angels proclaiming God’s Love.

Thank You, God, for the Gift of Your Love, Jesus.

 Amen.

Merry Christmas.