He Has Done Great Things

The Lord’s work is beautiful. How could it be that the baby in the manger was Him? The Messiah, for whom His people had waited so long, and yet only a few would be given eyes to see at that moment in time? What He has done is truly a mystery.

What has He done for you? Perhaps, like Zechariah, we doubted and endured a time of silence during which we could only watch as He acted faithfully to His word.

If our mouths have been opened again, let us not voice more doubt. Let our mouths and our lives pour forth His praises.

Mary praised Him in a song that was reflective as well as prophetic, remembering what He had done for Israel and at the same time looking forward to what He would do through Jesus.

What He has done, He will do because He is unchanging. His plan interrupts our ritual offerings and our complicated rules with the simplicity of an unexpected answer. Do not overlook the many mangers He has placed in your life.

Think about what He has done for you, and praise Him!

“The Mighty One has done great things for me – holy is his name. ” Luke 1:49

What the Teddy Bear Knew

All right: deep breath! This is the only children’s story I’ve ever completed. Sharing it makes me nervous, because I actually care about it! I wrote it in high school, basing the characters on the ornaments on our tree. I have been tweaking it occasionally over the years. Constructive criticism is welcomed; destructive criticism will be tolerated. *Smiley*

The sleeping house snuggled under a blanket of snow, drifts pillowing against its dark windows. In the living room, the purposeful ticking of the mantle clock melted Christmas Eve into Christmas Day. The tree stood silently waiting for morning. Presents tumbled from underneath its branches. If you had been a mouse in the room that night, you might have heard a whisper-soft sigh drift on the stillness. It was the teddy bear ornament on the back of the tree. He sighed again. The worn nutcracker hanging nearby was awake, too.

“This must be your first year on the back of the tree,” the nutcracker said. “That’s where they put you when they don’t want to look at you anymore.” Startled from his thoughts, the teddy bear listened as the nutcracker’s gruff voice continued: “I remember when they dropped me. A sloppy job with the hot glue gun, and my days on the front of the tree were over. Now They don’t care what happens to me.”

The bear inspected his chipped paint and missing ear in the shiny red bulb on a nearby branch. His little tummy heaved in sadness as he remembered the days when They used to lift him from his box and smile at him.

“What do you think will happen to me? He asked timidly.

“Eventually They forget about you and leave you in the box, or…They throw you away,” the nutcracker said.

The teddy bear gasped! Was this true?

“Christmas is over for us ornaments as soon as we become old and broken. It has no meaning after that,” the nutcracker said bitterly.

Just then, the voice of a crystal angel tinkled above them. “But you are mistaken, for I am the meaning of Christmas!” She sang. “I announced the birth of Jesus on Christmas Day! I appear on Christmas cards every year, and I have been sung about in carols for generations. I am the meaning of Christmas.”

“Just wait,” scoffed the nutcracker. “Just wait until someday They drop you and break you. Then you won’t believe that anymore.”

The angel said nothing, but smugly turned up her nose and returned to her harp. She was a vain angel because she knew how the tree lights sparkled in her crystal.  She was always hanging where everyone could see her.

Suddenly a robust chuckle rang in the hollow bulbs. “HOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOO!”

The teddy bear peered down through the pine needles. Somewhere below him, a bloated plastic Santa Claus was laughing. “Now just a minute!” he laughed. “Stop joking – everyone knows I’m what this holiday is all about! Who do you think stuffs the stockings? And puts presents under the tree? Angels are nice, but they don’t make the season magical like I do!”

By now most of the other ornaments had been awakened by the loud conversation and were arguing about the meaning of Christmas. The stained glass church was sermonizing the bell. Angels and Santas on every branch had joined sides. On one branch, the meaning of Christmas was Giving. Another branch favored Tradition and Family. Many ornaments on the back of the tree were rallying around a rebellious rocking horse with a mane of tattered yellow string who claimed there was no meaning in anything.

The straw women clustered together were discussing the lamentable state of discord into which the tree had fallen, and on Christmas Eve, no less!

“Those angels!” exclaimed one.

“They claim to be messengers of peace and goodwill,” said another.

“You know, I heard they started this whole thing!” whispered a third.

The nutcracker grinned in satisfaction as the fighting grew louder, while the teddy bear fiddled with the remaining button on his overalls and thought to himself, There must be some reason for me. There must be some reason for Christmas!

Then – a hush! The tree shook gently as a golden glow spread slowly to every branch. What was it?

“It’s the Star! We’ve awakened the Star!” squeaked a tiny mouse in a stocking cap. The littlest angels climbing the wooden clock trembled. The people in the small glass bells quaked nervously. Ting. Ting. Ting. The teddy bear’s stomach somersaulted, and even the nutcracker ’s wooden joints clacked.

“Quiet, all of you,” the Star said. “All of you are wrong. Christmas is not about any of us. It is not about giving or songs or traditions or family. Christmas is here, but it is on the back of the tree.”

In silence, the ornaments swung on their stings or strained their eyes to see what the Star was talking about. Christmas – on the back of the tree? Where all the rejected ornaments hung?

Through the branches, the Star’s light shone on a wooden nativity hanging on the very bottom branch on the back of the tree. Its paint was peeling, and the wood cracked and colored with magic marker. Here the faceless figures of Mary and Joseph huddled around the tiny baby Jesus in the manger.

The rocking horse had the best view; he passed the news to the crocheted snowflake with the coffee stains, who told the cowboy boot, who told the snowman. Soon, even the smallest angels climbing the wooden clock knew the meaning of Christmas. The ornaments stopped fighting then, because the Star has spoken, and the Star was revered for its wisdom.

The news reached the Santa Claus, who laughed; the crystal angel, who turned up her nose; and the nutcracker, who refused to listen. But when the teddy bear hear it, his black eyes twinkled. He didn’t mind staring at the wall anymore.

The stairs creaked. A bathrobe brushed too close as someone plugged in the Christmas lights, and soon the sounds of Christmas morning filled the house. The people surrounded by their piles of presents and wrapping paper did not think about the wooden manger. Perhaps they purposely hung it where they would not be reminded of it, or maybe they had only hung it because they always did. They did not know the true meaning of this day,

but the teddy bear knew, and he secretly smiled.

The End