It’s All Good / Patti Lamb

This year, Christmas will be alive in all those who believe

“The kids in Room 207 were misbehaving again. Spitballs stuck to the ceiling. Paper planes whizzing through the air. They were the worst behaved class in the whole school.”

That’s the beginning of one of my favorite childhood books, Miss Nelson is Missing, by Harry Allard. I stumbled upon it recently in the children’s section of a bookstore when shopping for a Christmas book for my godchild.

I distinctly remember the plot. Miss Nelson was a mild-mannered and kind-natured teacher, and her disrespectful students misbehaved and refused to learn.

As I glanced at the cover, a line from the book flashed into my mind.

“Something must be done,” Miss Nelson said, as the students repeatedly talked over her and made poor choices.

The next day, Miss Nelson didn’t show up. Instead, a substitute who looked like a witch took her place as teacher. Miss Viola Swamp was strict and mean and gave the children loads of homework. Miss Swamp showed up day after day. The kids greatly missed Miss Nelson and regretted their wicked behavior. At the end of the book, Miss Nelson returns and the students rejoice and treat her with the respect and dignity they failed to give before.

That afternoon in the bookstore, my jaw dropped as I stared at the cover illustration.

A thought occurred to me.

“Are we the kids in Room 207?” I asked myself.

Is the current state of affairs in this world the way it is because “something must be done?”

We’re living in a pandemic, forced to social distance, and even isolate in some instances, making this Christmas one like never before. Most of us can’t spend it with those we love most. No Christmas parties. Nativity plays and choir performances have been cancelled. Hugs are prohibited. Masks are mandated to cover our faces, preventing us from the simplest kind gesture of sharing a smile. Warm hugs and handshakes feel like things of the past.

I thought back to this time a year ago. Apparently, those were the good old days, and how I regret taking them for granted. Last Christmas Eve, our church was packed so full that many were standing and those lucky enough to be in a pew were packed in like sardines. The choir sang, the children put on a lovely Nativity pageant and we hugged at the sign of peace. All those things that enriched the celebration of the Eucharist are now simply not allowed.

This December, it feels like Christmas is missing, but it’s not. And seeing one of my favorite books in the bookstore that day reminded me precisely why it’s not.

More than 2000 years ago, God looked down at his troubled world and said, “Something must be done,” so he sent his only Son to teach us about love, service and mercy. He allowed his son’s blood to be used to seal a new covenant.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life” (Jn 3:16).

By his life, death and resurrection, Jesus opened the gates of heaven for us. Each December, we celebrate the birth of our Redeemer, who won the victory for us. That’s why we proclaim “joy to the world!”

While this year’s celebration may look different from years past, it’s every bit as meaningful and worthy of celebration in our hearts. Even without turkey and tinsel, Christmas is not missing. It’s alive in the hearts of all who believe.
 

(Patti Lamb, a member of St. Susanna Parish in Plainfield, is a regular columnist for The Criterion.) †