Janice Crow

December 07 Reflections

Twenty-five days to go, twenty-four, twenty-three...when you're a kid, the wait until Christmas morning seems like an eternity. Every day seems a week long. You ask again and again, "How many more days?", and it seems like the answer doesn't change much. You analyze the gifts under the tree and compare size, weight, shape, and count how many have your name versus your brother's. You repeat this exercise daily--for weeks--until finally the day arrives.

Or at least that's what is supposed to happen. My little sister, Sheryl, had other ideas. Picture 1959 and a curly haired three year old. She had walked around the Charlie Brown styled Christmas tree for weeks. She had poked, prodded, tugged, and sniffed at everything under the tree. She had asked, "When can I open my presents?", and heard, "not yet" at least a hundred times. Finally, one night the anticipation and frustration were simply too much for her, and she blew! She bawled until I was certain the neighbors would be sending the police any minute. She cried and shook and "snubbed" until Mom couldn't take it anymore
and my mother did something I never saw her do before....she caved in. My Mom, the rock, gave in to a screaming three year old and let her open a gift. It was a big, stuffed Collie that Sheryl promptly straddled and rode off to some happier mental place. I remember thinking, "How come she gets to open one and I don't?", but I was so relieved that the screaming had ceased, I never asked. Waiting was clearly not her strong suit.

However, for some people waiting poses no problem. Fast forward about 13 years. I was playing piano for the original Sunday Edition. One morning early, Sandy, the baritone's wife, called to ask a question regarding the performance schedule. She awakened me out of a near-coma sleep state. I talked to her incoherently for a second, then went to retrieve the
information she was inquiring about. After checking the schedule, I immediately crawled back into bed and picked up dreaming almost where I left off. About three hours later, I woke up and began to come to life. I walked through the living room and noticed the phone off the hook, still lying on the gossip bench seat where I had left it. It was all coming back to me. I had never answered Sandy's question. I grabbed the receiver to hang it up, but for some reason placed it to my ear first. I could hear children chattering and a television. I said, "Uh.....hello?" To my amazement, Sandy said, "Yes?" I couldn't believe it. She had sat there and waited for me three solid hours. I was embarrassed and in disbelief: not only that I had left her dangling, but that she had actually stayed on the phone. I apologized profusely, and she just said, "Oh, that's okay." She was totally unflappable. I gave her the
info she called for, and we said goodbye. That still amazes me thirty-five years later.

With Christmas coming, we will all do our share of waiting....waiting in the cashier's line, waiting for a parking place, waiting for a table at a restaurant when our tired shopper's feet have screamed "ENOUGH!!", waiting for catalog orders to arrive, waiting for the kids to go to bed so gifts can be wrapped, waiting for soldiers or college students to come home, or just waiting to get some rest. It's a season of hustle and bustle, yet seemingly endless waiting. Christmas is truly a season of "hurry up and wait."

Unfortunately, I am not a good waiter. I have been guilty of asking things of the Lord that I'm sure He gave me out of season, before His perfect time, because of my frustration and impatience. I wonder how my life would've been different had I just made my request, then patiently held the royal telephone, and waited for Him to answer in His own good time. This Christmas season, while we wait in line, maybe we can spend that time reflecting on Isaiah 40:31, and learning to wait upon the Lord.

Have a wonderful Christmas,
Janice Crow