June 1973

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Kit Walvoord Copyright © 2003 [Kit's Silver Age Comics]. All rights reserved. LAST UPDATED 06/22/05 12:02 PM Howard "followed his rainbow" when he goes to live on St. Benedict's island in the Caribbean. When he returns he says, "I guess I just followed it to the wrong end. My pot of gold is right here in Mayberry."

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and
peaceful experience.  I had cut back on nonessential

obligations -- extensive card writing, endless
baking,
decorating, and even overspending.  Yet still, I
found
myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious
family moments, and of course, the true meaning of
Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year.  It
was an exciting season for a six year old.  For
weeks,
he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter
Pageant."  I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd
be
working the night of the production.

Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with
his
teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal
the morning of the presentation.  All parents unable
to
attend that evening were welcome to come then.
Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the
compromise.

So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in
10
minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor
and
sat down.  Around the room, I saw several other
parents
quietly scampering to their seats.  As I waited, the

students were led into the room.  Each class,
accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on
the
floor.  Then, each group, one by one, rose to
perform
their song. 

Because the public school system had long stopped
referring to the holiday as "Christmas," I didn't
expect anything other than fun, commercial
entertainment
-- songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and
good cheer.  So, when my son's class rose to sing,
"Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its
bold title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates,
adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright
snowcaps on their heads. Those in the front row --
center stage -- held up large letters, one by one,
to
spell out the title of the song.  As the class would
sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the
letter C.  Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on,
until

each child holding up his portion had presented the
complete message, "Christmas Love."
The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly,
we

noticed her -- a small, quiet, girl in the front row
holding the letter "M" upside down -- totally
unaware
her letter "M" appeared as a "W." The audience of
1st
through 6th graders snickered at this little one's
mistake.  But she had no idea they were laughing at
her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W."

Although many teachers tried to shush the children,
the
laughter continued until the last letter was raised,
and we all saw it together.  A hush came over the
audience and eyes began to widen. 

In that instant, we understood -- the reason we were
there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first
place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose
for
our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message
read loud and clear:

CHRIST WAS LOVE.

And, I believe, He still is.

E-mail from my cousin Shaun (Author Candy Chand)