Emil, a pleasant, somewhat shy retired man with sparkling
blue eyes, started coming to worship in our new mission congregation in a small
town in Manitoba, Canada. He soon began to worship regularly and would often
come to the church during the week to pull weeds, tend the flowers and water
the trees and shrubs.
Since our parsonage was near the church, our family saw a
lot of Emil. He had a soft spot for our part-husky dog, which the congregation
had nicknamed “The Vicar” because of his black coat and white collar.
Emil also loved it when one of our four children would stop
on the way home from school and visit with him while he worked to beautify the
church property.
As I got to know Emil better, I was more and more impressed
with his voice. I learned he had sung with a barbershop quartet for many years.
But now that his hearing was not good, he worried about his singing.
On the Sundays I was not playing the organ, Emil would sit
in the pew behind me. After worship, he never failed to ask if he was singing
off-key or too loudly, or lagging behind the rest of the congregation.
When the choir started up weekly practice in the fall, I
asked Emil to join us. At first he hesitated. Then he made me promise that if
it ever got to the point where he was not an asset to the choir, I would be
honest and tell him it was time to quit. I promised, and Emil joined.
His personality blossomed, and his sense of humor soon
surfaced. When one of the tenors complained that he couldn’t stand next to
those loud altos, Emil volunteered to trade places, saying, “If the altos throw
me off, I’ll just turn my hearing aid off on that side!”
Christmas Eve came. The church was packed with people
curious about this new congregation on the hill whose lighted cross was visible
across town. The tree some of the men had cut in the nearby forest drew every
eye to its newly made gold-and-pearl chrismons. The ladies had enjoyed making
these beautiful ornaments, with their letters representing Christ’s name.
Hundreds of tiny white lights sparkled; each represented Christ, the Light of
the World.
The Sunday school children portrayed the angels, the
shepherds, Mary and Joseph and the Wise Men, and told of the birth of Baby
Jesus. The adult choir added special meaning with singing. It was truly a night
to remember as our small congregation and friends filled the church and
worshipped with joy overflowing.
But for me, the best part of that Christmas came a few days
later. In the bitter cold, Emil appeared at our parsonage door, tears running
down his cheeks. And through these tears beamed pure joy.
As his story tumbled out, I learned that Emil had never
before been in a church on Christmas Eve, because he grew up in a family that
never went to church.
More tears flowed as Emil told of his later years, when he
always spent Christmas Eve alone, drinking away his sadness and wondering what
the fuss of Christmas was all about.
With a warm smile, he thanked me for asking him to join the
choir and for helping him be a part of the Christmas program. Now it was my
turn for tears!
Emil described the overwhelming happiness he felt as he
heard the story of Christ’s birth told by the children. He said Pastor Mel’s
heartfelt message on “Coming Home for Christmas” had brought great relief and
comfort. That night he learned of the forgiveness and love the Babe of
Bethlehem had for him.
For our family it was
sheer joy and thankfulness that Christmas, as God reached out and brought Emil
home.https://www.facebook.com/myfavoritechristmasstories
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