Getting on the elevator after a doctor’s appointment this week before Christmas, I was followed in by a young father and his little girl. The father was smiling.
As the doors closed and we started to move, the little girl looked up at me and asked, “What’s your name?” I told her mine and asked her the same and she told me hers. I glanced at the father, and he was smiling.
Then she held up her hand and showed me the “prize” she’d gotten at the dentist. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was – some type of bright plastic toy – and I said, “That’s wonderful. I went to my doctor just now but he doesn’t give prizes.” I glanced at the father, and he was smiling.
As we walked into the building lobby – the little girl leading the way as she pulled on her father’s hand – I told the father how his daughter brought back a memory of when I was her age and my dentist had a treasure chest his patients could select from. The father, still smiling said, “That’s fun, have a good day.”
I went from there to Wilshire to begin helping set up One Starry Night, our Bethlehem village that will be open to the community on Friday evening. As we worked through the day, I thought more about that encounter in the elevator. I thought about the excitement of the little girl, but also about how the father smiled through it all. It was a pleased, proud smile. It seemed he was enjoying the boldness of his child drawing out a stranger, bringing me into her world of joy and wonder, and reminding me of long forgotten prizes and treasures.
It was a small moment, but it felt like a Christmas moment: A baby was born into this world, lived as a child and an adult among us, called his people by name and invited them to share the treasures and prizes of this life and the world to come. And all the while, the Father was watching and smiling.
The Christ child of Christmas is still among us. The prizes and treasures are still ours to have, not as we expect but just what we need. And the Father is still smiling.