For the first time, Stani Moss performed in the church where a year
earlier he had begun his own journey to meet the Christ Child. On the night of their return to the farm,
Pastor Mike had asked if he would consider playing at the Christmas Eve service
and he had immediately agreed. Now, as
he sat with Emily and John in a pew full of friends who had been strangers a
year earlier, he knew he had completed that journey. Watching the cherub choir, now under the care
of Sara McConnell, seated around the crèche just as they had been with Emily
that night, he felt the same tingle of anticipation. Glancing at her candlelit face beside him, he
saw much the same emotion shining in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth
were turned up in that sweet, tranquil smile he so loved. Beyond her, James and Penny sat hand in hand,
their eyes meeting briefly as if to confirm the step they had taken together
such a short time ago.
At the rear of the already crowded church, a whispered commotion could
be heard. Turning, Stani saw that Jack
had arrived and was ushering in a group of late arrivals. Leading the way down the aisle, he was
followed by Bobby, walking slowly and leaning heavily on a cane. Next to him, Ruthie carried little Emily, who
gazed down on the faces along the way, her eyes bright with curiosity. Three little boys followed, Robbie Joe
bringing up the rear. Stani watched
their progress, as Jack brought them straight to the front of the church, where
they filed into the pew directly opposite.
From his seat on the aisle, Robbie Joe looked across at Stani and smiled
his brightest gap-toothed grin. As he
turned to leave, Jack laid a hand on Stani’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, son.”
The organ began to play, as the last of the congregation filed in, and
when Pastor Mike took his place in the pulpit, a chill touched the back of
Stani’s neck. “This is the night of
brilliant stars and heralding angels.
This is the night of humble shepherds and watchful wise men. This is the night of our Savior’s birth. Let us worship God together, on this night of
miracles.”
Stani listened to the scriptures and carols, Emily’s hand tucked
securely in his. At the appointed time,
he rose and took his violin to stand near the manger. Aware of the wide-eyed cherubs, watching from
the other side of the crèche, he smiled.
Then closing his eyes, he played.
What Child Is This?, a tune as familiar as his own breathing, tonight
infused with a new spirit. When the
choir joined him, the music soared, swirling within the little church to draw
in every listener. In his mind’s eye, he
saw Emily, her eyes glistening in the candlelight, her hand resting lightly
over their unborn child. His heart
swelled in his chest, filled with more love and longing than he could ever have
imagined a year ago, when he had stood at the back of this church and for the
first time recognized the voice of God speaking so clearly.
When
he returned to his seat, he met the gaze of the little boy opposite, a gaze so
full of awe that he felt another shiver of emotion. For a long moment, he stared at Stani as if
seeing him for the first time. But when
Stani smiled into the dark eyes, Robbie returned an adoring grin and darting
across the aisle, threw himself into Stani’s arms. Wordlessly, he gathered the child to him,
momentarily overwhelmed by his own response.
This boy, so earnest and open, would never understand the power of his
simple gesture. But for Stani, who had
yearned for the courage to show the same kind of gratitude to the man he most
wanted to please, Robbie Joe’s arms, tightly hugging his neck, were the finest
Christmas gift he could ever receive.
No comments:
Post a Comment