I love how the Christmas narrative in Luke starts with this phrase. As if we are stepping into the story in the middle of the action. (All editors tell writers to do this.) God stepped into the middle of all history in that moment. He hit pause long enough to slip a fragile baby into the world while no one but angels and shepherds were looking.
Those four words make me hold my breath for a second each time I hear them. I can almost feel the shiver in Heaven as the Creator of the Universe prepares to be born.
I’ve never heard these words spoken more beautifully than during the first Christmas with my future husband’s family. As his eighteen-year-old fiance, I was the newcomer. More of a mystery to everyone than the newest grandbaby. She, at least, had a family resemblance.
As we gathered in the church sanctuary, someone placed a chair before the altar and then led Wendell’s grandmother to that seat facing the congregation. Grandma-Great was mostly blind and had been for years. But she had memorized much of the Bible. And in a voice that trembled with age but rose with faith, she began.
“And it came to pass in those days …”
Years later, when Grandma-Great had gone home to glory, we found ourselves with little cash for Christmas presents. Wendell was struglling through a grueling hospital internship of 36 hours on and 12 off. We had four little kids and a Grinch-sized mountain of student loan debt. Several members of his extended family would be coming through our city at the same time, so we decided to have an improptu Christmas gathering. But I had no gifts to give. Especially nothing worthy of the man who was working so hard.
Then, I had The Idea. Once we had gathered around the tree in our tiny rental house and covered all the small talk, I told everyone that I’d like to give Wendell my present first. He liked it so much that I’ve been giving this present every Christmas for the past thirty-five years. In case you don’t have a Grandma at your house this year, I’ve recorded it here. Feel free to borrow: