I was looking forward to midnight services at my Little Brown Church, and what happened there was magical. Not only did we have a candlelit ceremony in the 1939 log cabin (where Ronald and Nancy Regan were married), there was a baby dedication that charmed everyone present.
Our pastor, Russ Willoughby, started the service by telling us that the baby dedication listed on the bulletin — apparently a ritual of the church’s denomination — would not take place because of the stormy weather. But just then, the family burst into the church with their baby bundled up.
Pastor Russ explained that, in seminary, the happenstance of Christmas eve and a baby dedication is something ministers only dream of. And I could see why. As we warmed up and the old pine doors closed against the storm, the baby’s mother came to the altar with her gurgling infant, Sophie, in an adorable puffy white christening dress adorned with a shiny red sash. The whole congregation was transfixed as Russ joined us in wishing her a good life and future — and Sophie laughed and smiled.
Later came a reading by a fellow congregant, Rick Hall. He told of an early 1970s Christmas, when his uncle was mortally injured and he learned from his father — who lost his brother that night — what it means to be a man, on his family’s midwestern farm. Everyone in the room including Pastor Russ, Rick Hall, and even the baby were in tears — but joyful ones.
After Rick Hall spoke, they turned off all the electric lights, and we all lit candles and sang “Silent Night.” A pretty woman who’d sat next to me, my age exactly, told me she felt at home and wanted to come back after this first visit. In the rests, you could hear the baby gurgling happily. People lingered, and didn’t want to blow out their candles. It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.
There’s a church in the valley by the wildwood,
No lovelier spot in the dale;
No place is so dear to my childhood,
As the little brown church in the vale.
Hi Blair,
I’m really enjoying your blog. It helps to open my eyes to other things out there, besides the “industry”.
(You know what I mean).
Peace for the coming New Year!
The Toast
by Virna Sheard
A toast to thee, 0 dear old year,
While the last moments fly,
A toast to thy sweet memory –
We’ll lift the glasses high,
And bid to thee a fond farewell
As thou art passing by!
A toast to those who reaped success
In this good year of grace;
A toast to every one of them –
Come! Give the victors place!
Come, wish them well with right good will –
The winners in the race!
And one toast more! To those who failed
Wherever they may be;
With faces white they fought the fight,
But missed the victory;
So here’s to them – the ones who strove –
On land and on the sea!
Fair dreams to thee, 0 grey old year,
Thy working time is done,
And gone for thee the silver moon,
And golden noon-day sun;
Yet sad old year – and glad old year –
We’ll know no better one.