The Accidental Christmas Eve Tradition

While I have some vague remembrances of Christmas Eve as a child, they are mostly family gathered by the tree, my father reading the Christmas story from Luke 2 and heading off to bed with great anticipation of what the following day would bring. I don’t recall our Southern Baptist Church ever having a Christmas Eve service.

Even after I became a minister, neither of the two churches in which I served had Christmas Eve Services. So, Myra and I had our own traditions of always being home on Christmas Eve, enjoying a BIG Christmas Eve dinner, driving around town to see Christmas lights, allowing the girls to open one gift, and reading the Christmas passage from the Gospel of Luke. For our last Christmas in Memphis and for the first time, we attended a Christmas Eve service at First Evangelical Church, where Myra taught Precepts Upon Precepts (a women’s Bible study developed by Kay Arthur). The following year, I was in seminary in Fort Worth, and our church also had a Christmas Eve gathering. Little did I know my next pastoral posting would come with the expectation that I lead that annual celebration of the Light of the World.

Upon arriving at Crest Baptist Church in August of 1994, I found the membership had various denominational backgrounds, with most having had some experiences with Advent, the four-week season in the Church calendar dedicated to anticipating the arrival, or “advent,” of Jesus of Nazareth, the long-awaited Messiah and King. I was the ONLY “cradle roll” Southern Baptist. I soon discovered that the celebration of Advent and a Christmas Eve service were expected responsibilities of my ministry. While I had no theological objection to this expectation, they were out of my wheelhouse from previous church leadership roles. I searched for resources to guide me in discovering the themes of Advent and colors of each candle in the Advent wreath. Ultimately, I found this addition to my Christmas celebration, merging my family and church family traditions, very fulfilling.

However, as much as we tried to continue some of the family traditions we began in Memphis, we discovered the realities of an Iowa climate changed things. Having had a busy schedule and no chance for Christmas shopping, we were planning a late shopping trip to Des Moines on Monday, December 23, 1996. We awoke to an ice storm and could not make the 60-mile trip to the malls. The girls were devastated at the idea of no presents under the tree, but I assured them we would leave before dawn on Christmas Eve and go to the early opening stores before going to the mall.

The following day, at 7:00 a.m., we found Best Buy, Kohl’s, and Target essentially vacant and were at the Valley West Mall when they opened at 9:00 a.m. Around 10:00 a.m., I took up residence on a comfy couch by the escalator and was the touchpoint for Myra and the girls to bring their loot as they continued their forays into other shops.

After completing our shopping by 11:30 a.m., we had lunch and returned to Creston. The afternoon was filled with the busyness of gift wrapping by Myra and the girls while I made the last-minute preparations for the Candlelight Christmas Eve service. The feeling of accomplishment after finishing our shopping and the anticipation of the upcoming service filled us with a sense of satisfaction and joy.

What seemed like a huge risk in waiting until the last minute to do the bulk of our gift buying became a point of family bonding as we went on an adventurous trek in the dark of Christmas Eve morning. It was a tradition that we maintained for the rest of the years that our girls were in Iowa for Christmas.

So, when Anna told me last night that her family was going shopping at 7:30 a.m. this Christmas Eve, I thought I’d pass and sleep in. However, I was awake and ready to go on the shopping adventure. Happily, I treated the Harrison family to Cracker Barrel brunch at 11:30 a.m. as we rekindled some of our special Christmas Eve memories.

A Christmas Eve Memory

It was shaping up to be a stress-free Christmas. For the first time ever, my wife, Myra, had prepared most of the Christmas dinner and fix-in’s ahead, so it would just be a matter of warming things up on Christmas day. All the shopping was finished and presents were laura-age-8wrapped. My parents were spending the holidays with us (a rare treat). It looked like we were going to have a wonderful Christmas celebration on Wednesday, December 25, 1991.
However, our youngest daughter got sick on the way to her piano recital on the previous Saturday and by that evening, she was showing classic symptoms of appendicitis. I took her to the hospital emergency room and after several tests, she was diagnosed with a urinary tract infection. I stopped at the all-night Walgreens on Park and S Highland on the way home and immediately got her started on the antibiotics.
The next morning while I was at church with the other girls, Myra said that Laura had some excruciating pain and then it subsided. She continued to be lethargic, however, and worsened the next day. A call to the nurse at our pediatrician resulted in an encouragement to be patient and let the antibiotics work.
On Tuesday, Christmas Eve, Laura did not move off the couch. She had no appetite and no energy. My brother-in-law, an ER doctor in Little Rock, called that evening to check on her. He insisted that we return immediately to the hospital. Fortunately, my parents were there to care for the older girls while Myra and I bundled up Laura and headed to Baptist East Hospital in Memphis.
A pediatric surgeon was at the hospital that night and informed us that we had a “very sick little girl” whose appendix had likely ruptured (on Sunday morning), and she needed immediate surgery. Of course, we consented and at 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve, she went into surgery. The appendix had ruptured, necessitating a longer than normal surgery. However, by 4 a.m. on Christmas morning she was in a room, and I went home to play “Santa” to the older girls. We opened presents. Then, with homemade sweet rolls already made, we had our traditional Christmas breakfast. My mother was given  instructions on all the dishes to warm up for dinner, and the girls and I took Laura’s presents to the hospital for her to open.
It didn’t take us long to realize that in God’s providence, He had helped even this stressful time to be a little less chaotic as the Christmas meals were prepared, presents wrapped, my parents presence to take care of our other daughters and the pediatric surgeon ready to go. Most importantly, my brother-in-law’s phone call on Christmas Eve may have saved our precious little eight year old’s life.