Christmas Peace
By Christina Berry
As Children's Ministry staff at Immanuel Presbyterian Church in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Christina provides programs and services for children and their families in the congregation and the community. Christina is in the process of becoming an inquirer for ministry in the Presbyterian Church , USA. She frequently serves as a consultant and trainer to other churches.

I've been taken by surprise again. It happens every year, and every year I forget until it happens again. Like the deep spell of a recurring dream that wears off as the day wears on, the memory is gradually worn away until there is not even a kernel of conscious awareness of it -- until it returns.

About the first of December, after the Thanksgiving turkey is a carcass made into soup, after the boxes of Christmas decorations have been dragged in from the garage, a sense of urgency pervades my heart and my house. I cannot imagine how I will get everything accomplished. I mentally prioritize and discard any extraneous plans. Do we really need to have a tree this year? Will our friends notice that the cookies are slice-and-bake? Can that client wait until after the holidays for the marketing plan? What's the deadline for….

Even though I think I am fairly well organized, there is always some forgotten task that demands to be accomplished at the last minute. The newsletter! The year-end report for the client!

This year, it was angel wings. How in the world am I going to get ten sets of angel wings ready by 7:00 on Christmas Eve? What would be better, tulle or gauze? I hope I can staple the gauze and the staples won't catch on anyone's hair. Will the glitter end up all over the choir loft? What if I don't have enough wings for everyone? There are only six angels signed up, but I know that when the wings are produced, the rest of the heavenly host will appear, as suddenly as they were there with the angel that spoke to the shepherds. Will any prospective angels agree to be shepherds at the last minute? Not if I know the heart of a seven-year-old girl they won't. One look at those wings, and there will be a free-for-all. Better make twelve sets.

And then, it happens. The annual surprise that shouldn't be a surprise at all. As I stand holding the wings of an angel, it creeps over me. No sudden apparitions, no annunciation, no host of heavenly beings. Just a still, quiet awareness of the peace of Christmas. All is well. The Christ child will be born again this year, in the stable. The shepherds will kneel in awe while the angels sing. Mary's heart will be full, her spirit open to God's voice. What needs to be accomplished will be accomplished. There may be no room at the inn, but the baby will come anyway. The angels will don their wings and climb into the choir loft. Their halos will shift around on their shining hair, and they will nudge one another as they try to see their parents in the congregation below.

As the candles are lit, the angels will sing, but I will be silent in the inexplicable peace and ineffable stillness. I am touching the wings of an angel. The glitter will fall to the pew cushions in a silver shower. I will arise with the shepherds, and we will say to one another, "Let us go now unto Bethlehem and see this thing which has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us!"

May the Peace of Christmas fill your heart.

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