The day itself

We drove into downtown Knoxville yesterday afternoon and we maneuvered into the parking lot at St. John's Episcopal Church and hustled against the December wind and found an entrance into the back of the church. The interior of the church was lit up and the there was greenery everywhere. In the corner, near the front of the church were three evergreens, stacked up against the wall. No decorations. Just the basic tree that St. Boniface cut to show the power of his God against the spirits and fetishes of the Germans to whom he preached.

At least that is the legend. But we came into the sanctuary and sat down near the front, taking up an entire row for our little family. We were early. People steadily entered from behind us and found a set of pews on which to sit. Some were dressed for church. Others were more casual.

Some bowed before the altar as they came to their chosen pew. I began to worry a bit about the rituals of the service. Would I know what to do when the time came? Would I embarrass myself in trying to fit in to the service? The thoughts took me out of my comfort zone. I kept looking around the sanctuary. I was finding little sanctuary.

But the service finally began and the beauty of the service took hold. Despite the strangeness of the service from the normal Presbyterian order of worship I was used to, there was a comfortable, historical feel to the worship. There were Roman Catholic elements as the priest began to sing the litany at one point. But there were also familiar elements: the Christmas carols, the choir, even the singing of the Doxology after the taking of the offering. Did they know that hymn was written by a Calvinist in Geneva?

But the service was finally over and we stepped through the series of doors back to the parking lot and our way to the car. Cindy's dad was staying to help Missy. I drove Cindy, Kate, Cindy's mom and myself back to the house. As we drove back through Montgomery Cove, we decided to drive around the neighborhood and look at all of the Christmas lights.

That evening we ate our Christmas Eve supper and watched Megan open her presents before Christmas came and her father herded her off to Rochester, New York and his new wife's family. Cindy and I had purchased English Christmas Crackers for the group. We all pulled on the crackers and wore our paper party hats and examined the little plastic presents contained in the crackers. We read the corny jokes inside as well.

That night we sat in the light of the dining room, safe from the darkness and rain of the evening, and ate and drank and enjoyed each other. As the priest had said, we were experiencing the incarnation of love. The next morning, we awoke to examine the goodies in our stockings at the dining room table and waited for the exit of Megan to planes, and New York. After Johnny had left with Megan, we settled into the living room, bringing the presents into the room, and attacked them with gusto.

I was amazed by the bounty. I was excited like the little child within me. The morning was bright and sunny and the temperature was quite warm. We could sit on the back porch in our new robes and enjoy the morning weather and the crisp blue skies. I found my favorite station on the radio and Cindy and I sat in the sunshine with Kate and Tex and enjoyed the Christmas morning.

Later we ate a large breakfast of bacon, sausage, grits and eggs. There was so little to do at that point and we decided to go to the nearby movie complex and watch a movie. When we arrived at the theaters, we found that apparently everybody else had the same idea. We seemed to park in another county. At least we got some exercise walking from the parking to the theaters. Dodging the patrons as they tried to find parking also provided a bit of exercise.

Now, it is the end of the day. I would say that my earlier sour mood has been replaced with one of happiness and a sleepy modicum of peace. Some kind of peace. Perhaps not what the angels sang about, but something near it.

Noel. Noel. Noel.