We can all remember many Christmas times in our lives. I have had many, but the one that I think of every time I hear Silent Night being sung, is a story about my grandfather. Let me tell you about him and the reason I remember this particular Christmas.
He sat straight as a ramrod in his Captain's chair. His toothless mouth clinched a half smoked cigar, and his pixie face reflected an air of boredom as he listened to the young pastor seated across from him.
The Pastor, as tall as grandpa, sat on one of the caned kitchen chair. His dark wavy hair, pink cheeks and his deep set dimples made him look like a tall choir boy. He held a cigar in his hand, unsure rather to choke smoking it or to chance grandpa's sarcasm by merely holding it.
"Well Pete," said the Pastor, I would really like you to attend Christmas Eve service this year. I know you'd enjoy it. "
Although grandpa refrained from his usual colorful cursing, he let the pastor know in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of attending any service in any church.
It would take a miracle to get grandpa into church, we knew. Grandma had tried for years. First she tried with coy attempts, then with arguing, then with sweetness , and finally she had given up the idea.
For as long as I can remember I had tried to get grandpa to take the plunge. I begged him to come and hear the good choir, or to see the Christmas Pageant, our to see our new church, but my success had been no better than grandma's.
Christmas Eve was near again and I really did wish he could hear the choir sing Silent Night . It was important, because I sang in the choir and I was proud of the gift of singing God had given me. I shyly entered the room where the two men were talking and grandpa's eyes lit up, as they always did when I was around. He puffed a couple of times on his cigar, cleared his throat and sat forward just a little.
"I'll tell you what young feller, I'll come to your church if you will do something for me."
Pastor grinned and grasped grandpa's hand. "Of course Mr. Petersen, what would that be?"
Grandpa sat back with his big toothless grin and said, " Let my granddaughter sing Silent Night in Danish at your service."
Grandpa had come to this country when he was only seven years old and he could speak only Danish. As years went by English became the only language spoken in the Petersen household. When I, his first grandchild came along, he felt he must keep some small remnant of his native tongue alive. So, he taught me a few words and also taught me to sing Silent Night. Now he wanted to hear this song sung once more as he remembered it.
I wanted to sink through the floor. "Oh, no grandpa. My voice isn't good enough to sing alone and besides, everyone would think I was crazy if I sang something they couldn't understand."
The pastor's face was one of amused perplexity. God had finally showed him a way to get this stubborn sinner into church and he certainly couldn't refuse. "All right Pete, we'll let her do it and we'll expect to see you at seven Christmas Eve."
"Oh, dear God, why did you do it this way? " I thought. Of course, I wasn't sure grandpa would come. Nevertheless, I was still making a fool of myself. I dreaded Christmas Eve. Would they think I was showing off? Would my voice quiver so much I couldn't get a sound out? How would the director feel about this change of program?
The night came cold and clear, and even though huge snowflakes were falling d, I assured my dad I didn't want a ride to church. Actually, I was stalling for more time. I marveled at the brightness of the moon sifting through the lacy flakes and I felt very small and alone on this very silent night.
In this stillness I felt as if God were telling me to sing to His glory and forget myself. My short legs sped up and my heart was as happy as a child with a new discovery. I was going to forget what others thought and just do my best.
As the time drew near, I wasn't sure grandpa was going to keep his promise. I arrived early and sat down in a pew to have a word with God before the night began. The organ was softly playing, the scent of pine filled the warm, candle lit room and I felt completely at peace.
Finally the organ played the introduction and the choir hummed the harmony. My voice was soft and shaky at first, but as I sang a feeling of freedom came over me, and I forgot myself. It was then that I began to search the congregation for grandpa. Two rows back I saw him straight and tall, holding grandma's hand.
In that moment all my embarrassment was forgotten and I silently thanked God for this miracle, because grandpa actually glowed and tears ran down his wrinkled old cheek. As the last notes of the song were sung, the candles flickered, and God's presence embraced everyone.*
*From my book Get Out of Heaven's Waiting Room.
This will always be a very special memory for me. It still, after almost seventy years still brings a tear to my eye. I hope you all have had a very special memory of this blessed occasion and tell it to your children.
Have a very Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year.
Until next time,
Be kind to one another
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