Christmas
Talk 2015
Last
week, while sitting in sacrament, I was thinking about this week’s Christmas
program and about how amazing it was going to feel to just sit and enjoy the
Christmas program from the audience. This would be the first year I could even remember
not being part of a musical number.
Then, after sacrament, the bishop asked us if we would speak today. I guess there’s no rest for the wicked. I have to admit, I felt a little overwhelmed
when I considered all the final Christmas preparations I had on my last-minute
to-do list to which I would now have to add, prepare a Christmas talk, which to
me is a big deal. So, it has remained on
my to-do list and in the back of my mind as I have been marking things off of
my list all week.
Each
year at Christmas, my favorite tradition I do with my little family is that I
handwrite a letter to each of my kids and to Cameron (and to our parents) to
put next to their stockings to be read on Christmas morning. Being several years since I graduated from
school, I don’t hand-write many things any more so this tradition is really
taxing not only on my time but on my hand!
That’s a lot of letters to write!
But, of all our traditions, I love this tradition the most (even though
it requires quite a sacrifice on my part), because it sets the tone immediately
on Christmas morning as everyone begins the day by reading their letters as
they enjoy the treats in their stockings—it is a tone of love and gratitude and
it is a gift I can give to my loved ones that they can keep forever. As I was working on my letters for this year,
I was still contemplating the talk I needed to give and the thought came to me
that I should write a letter to my older brother, Jesus Christ, since He too is
a dear loved-one and it is His
birthday afterall. So, in lieu of a more
traditional format for a talk, I would like to instead share with you my Christmas
letter to Him:
My
Dearest Big Brother-
You
know, you are the only one I get to call my big brother, since I have no
earthly brothers. It sure is nice to
know that I have an older brother to protect me and to be such a good example
for me. You are, by far, the best big
brother a girl could ask for—literally! I want you to know how much I love and
appreciate you. There are truly no words
to adequately express the deep love I have for you. Yet, I know that you know me perfectly and
that, of all the people in my life, you are the one who truly does understand
the depths of my heart. So know this: that I love you beyond measure and earthly
expression.
This
year I have been thinking a lot about all you do for me and have been overcome
by the magnitude of your love for me. Being
that it is Christmas time, I’ve been thinking specifically about your birth and
about child-birth in general. Do you
remember when Ben was born? Remember how
strong the Spirit was in that hospital room?
Do you remember the angels that were there assisting me throughout that
horrible labor? I will never forget them. The nurses didn’t know how to describe the
Spirit they were feeling but it was so palpable that they couldn’t ignore it
either and every nurse that entered the room commented on the peace they felt. It was one of the most spiritual moments of
my life. Thank you for allowing me to
have that undeniable experience. It
gives me a small glimpse into what it might have felt like the day you were
born. I can only imagine the strength of
the Spirit in that stable and the numerous concourses of angels that were no
doubt there, helping Mary, your earthly mother through that labor, that literal
labor of love to bring you, love incarnate, into this world.
Being
that this is your season—Christmas season,—I have all my nativities set up all
over the house. They are my favorite
Christmas decoration. I love to see the
various renditions offered by each artist of your birth story. But, what I love most of all, is to watch as my
children set up the nativities. I love
how every character, every animal, every piece in the nativity is always facing
you, even if that means we cannot see any of their faces. It forces me to look at and focus on you too,
on you as a tiny infant.
I’ve
been pondering why we celebrate this particular point in your life—your birth—the
time in your life when you were a newborn infant. I shared this thought with my sister the
other day and she was telling me about something Elder Nelson had mentioned: about how it is interesting that Christmas is
a celebration of the only time in your life when you were entirely selfish—as
all infants are and must be—and how you then went on to live an entirely
selfless life. This is a really
interesting concept to consider. I can’t
help but think about how I too am a selfish infant—a spiritual infant—who must
learn to become entirely selfless. And,
as I pondered that process, I was reminded that it is only made possible
through your grace. Thank you. Thank you so much for your invaluable and
eternal gift of grace—both your saving power and your enabling power.
I’ve
been thinking about the miraculous and symbolic nature of mortal life—how it
allows us to witness and experience this life cycle that begins in infancy—and about
how much and how naturally we love infants and how we sacrifice all for their
well-being. We not only risk our
physical lives, give our blood, and endure extensive amounts of pain (both physical
and emotional) in order to give these infants mortal life and to love and
sustain them, but we sacrifice our individual desires and identities so that we
can dedicate our entire lives—our time and our intents—to raising those
infants. That’s what your parents did
for you. And, it’s what you did for me,
isn’t it? You not only gave your life,
and your blood, and endured unimaginable amounts of pain, but also dedicated
your mortal and eternal life to raising me—raising me up to your eternal glory—to
give me, a spiritual infant, eternal life, didn’t you?
An
infant does not have the skills to live and support itself in the world. An infant’s action cannot save him. I am realizing that I too, in my own
infantile state, cannot save myself no matter how hard I try. Thank you for your gift. Thank you for giving your life to me—for using
your Godly heritage to live it perfectly—so that you could give it to me again
in Gethsemane and Golgotha, so as to satisfy the demands of justice allotted to me—to save
me from the fall and from myself. Thank
you for saving me by that saving power of your grace. Thank you for saving my parents and for
saving my children and for saving my husband.
Thank you for being my protective older brother so that we can all be
together again.
Thank
you for not only protecting me, but for teaching me and molding me by your
example—for changing me with your enabling power. When I hold darling little infants in my
arms, I am reminded of how little they know, of how much growth and development
they have ahead of them. I too have so
much to learn, so much growth and development ahead of me. There have been so many times in my life when
I have stumbled, with you always there to catch me and help me try again—to
teach me how to walk through this mortal journey. There have been so many times when I have
been stubborn and thought that I could do it on my own. I am sorry for all the times I have pushed
you away. Thank you for always staying
nearby—for always being there, ready to help when I realize I can’t do it
alone. There have been so many times when I know I could not have done what was
required of me by my own efforts—that it was your enabling grace that made
those things possible. I think that when
you said, “suffer the little children to come unto me,” you were referring to
me—a little spiritual “child”. I am
learning to come unto you. I am seeing
your handiwork in my life. I hope I can
always remember that just as Mary’s agency was required to allow you to be born
into mortal life, that it is my own agency that is required to allow you to be
born into my heart, to allow the transformed “me” to be born into my own
eternal life. Thank you for changing me
and molding me and transforming me into the person I want to become so that I
will feel at home when I finally return home to you.
My
dear, sweet brother, you have taught me so many things. It is truly overwhelming to consider all the
symbols of the season as I contemplate your birth and life and death and
companionship. I want to thank you for
all the things you are teaching me as I rededicate myself to transforming into
the woman you are molding me to become.
I love that we celebrate your infancy as we usher in a new year. As we usher in this new year, I hope to also usher in the new being within myself—to
commit afresh to changing by way of your enabling power—to recommit to
transforming from my selfish infantile state into a selfless eternal
being. Thank you for teaching me to
honor the Sabbath—for providing a day, set apart, to partake of the sacrament. I love that the Sabbath ushers in the new
week—a time when I can partake of the sacrament and remember my baptismal
covenants to be reborn, committing again to begin afresh with the new week. As I remember you being born on that
Christmas night, so too will I commit to being reborn this Christmas season as
my gift to you.
I
love you so much and am so grateful to have you in my life,
Your
loving Little Sister
Brothers
and Sisters, this letter is my testimony of our Savior this Christmas
Season. I know that he is the true and
literal son of God and that he is our true and literal protective older
brother, not just a nice story passed down through the generations. And, that it is through his mortal birth and
life that we can gain our own spiritual birth and eternal life, because of His
grace. I say these things in His name,
amen.
