Scripture Reading: 1 Timothy 1:1-7
For me, Christmas is part of a faith tradition handed down from generation to generation. But some Christmases are more memorable than others. The Christmas of 1989 holds a special place in my family history. I was 15 that year and living in Middleburg, Florida. There was an exchange student from France living with us at the time, and I remember looking forward to the trip to my Grandparents’ home in Lake Station, Indiana. The two-day car ride, while cramped and crowded with wrapped gifts, was uneventful, but the days ahead would be full of events.
I spent those days sledding down the hill in the public park, visiting with my Father’s family, trading baseball cards with my cousin, sharing meals, watching Christmas specials on television, going to the mall for last minute gifts, and playing video games on my cousin’s Nintendo. Everything was going well until the night of the snowstorm.
The French student, my cousin, and I watched with excitement as the weatherman on television gave the forecast for several inches of wet, heavy, lake-effect snow. As soon as dinner was over, we put on our warmest clothes and layered ourselves with wool hats, scarves, gloves, and snow boots. We ran out of the front door into the front yard and divided up. We built forts and supplied ourselves with piles of snowballs. Before long, snowballs were flying through the evening sky. The snowball fight shifted from a stationary battle to a moving battle, with each of us running around the house, snowball in hand, trying to get close enough to plaster the back of someone’s head.
My cousin was taking the brunt of the snowballs and retreated to the front porch. He rang the doorbell and my Grandmother opened the door to let him inside. At that exact moment a big, wet snowball exploded on the storm door window, spraying snow and ice all over my Grandmother and onto the carpet of the living room. All of nature went silent. I stood, frozen, in the front yard. I only moved after I heard my Aunt yell for us “to get inside right now!” We went into the garage, took off our wet outer layer, and sulked inside. Through it all, we knew our grandmother would continue to give us the love and support we needed to be warm and accepted again.
The Apostle Paul exhorts Timothy “to rekindle the gift of God that is within you” that “lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice.” I am grateful for the gift of faith that lives in me. The gift was passed down by my grandparents to their children who in turn passed it down to their children.
Prayer: O God, Giver of all good things, rekindle the gift of faith within us.
About the Contributor
Reverend Jason Loscuito serves as the Converse College Chaplain and is a member of FPC.