For some time I had wanted to have a “Blue Christmas” service for those who were suffering during the holiday season. After an aborted attempt in 2017 due to blizzardy weather, I tried again the next year. I announced the Dec. 20 service in the newsletter, the Sunday bulletins, flyers and on the church sign.
Without a doubt people would be sad that Christmas. Death had claimed mothers, fathers, sisters, husbands and, saddest of all, two families had buried sons in the past couple of years. Dementia was slowly stealing away a mother, a father. There were people with no family and those whose family members would be far away at Christmas. I knew of people with health challenges and addictions. And there were those heartaches unknown to me. A Blue Christmas service could be a source of comfort and strength for many.
I arrived at the church midafternoon to prepare for the 7 p.m. service. Twenty bulletins would be more than enough. But even if only five people showed up, it would be good to do this.
Around 5:30 I heard someone rattling the church door. I went to the entrance and found three boys at the door. “Is something going on at the church tonight?” one boy asked. “We were walking by and saw the lights on.”
“Yes, there’s a special service tonight for people who feel sad at Christmas,” I said. “Do you ever feel sad at Christmas?”
“Sometimes,” he answered. “I know someone who is sad because his dad died.”
“Well,” I said, “this service is for people like that. You can come, too, if you want. The service starts at 7.”
“Maybe we’ll come back,” I heard.
I chuckled to myself, knowing how unlikely I’d see them that night.
After I finished setting up, I practiced the unfamiliar hymn I’d be introducing that night. “Each Winter As the Year Grows Older” speaks of death, grief, short days and the coming of the Child who brings light.
The first candle related to loss through death. The second was about loss of relationships. The third related to depression and addiction. And the fourth candle was for hope.
At 10 minutes before 7 the organist and her husband arrived, but no one else showed up at 7. The couple were heading home when an older member arrived. “Ruby” was recovering from knee surgery. I greeted her and suggested that the two of us have a private devotional time. We were sitting in a pew, alone in the church, when I suddenly heard a young voice: “Hey! Where is everybody?”
Coming up the aisle were two of the boys from earlier, along with a younger girl. “Only one person came,” I told them. “But now you’re here so there are five of us!”
We’ll call them Trent, Dustin and Bella, Dustin’s sister. When Bella asked if she could be Mary, I told her, “We’re not doing a play, we’re doing something else.”
I led them up to the altar area where there were two mini-pews in the chancel with room for two people each. Ruby and I sat on one side while Bella tried to fit in with the two boys, but there wasn’t room. When I said, “Let’s have the girls sit on this side and the boys on that side,” Bella happily sat between me and Ruby.
We had a reading for each of the four Advent candles. I read while the kids took turns lighting the candles. The first candle related to loss through death. The second was about loss of relationships. The third related to depression and addiction. And the fourth candle was for hope.
After we sang a verse of “Oh, Come, Oh, Come, Emmanuel,” I read Luke 2:6-11 about the birth of Jesus, the angels and the shepherds. Then we sang “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Next we gathered around the votive candles, where I invited them to light a candle for something they felt sad about at Christmas. Dustin was sad that his friend had moved away. Trent was sad when his dog died. The kids loved lighting the candles and began to name other sad things: children who are hungry, people who have lost their homes and so on.
We sat down again and prayed together the Lord’s Prayer. As the rest of us sang “Silent Night,” Bella stood in front of the altar facing the pews and signed the words to the hymn.
This wasn’t the Blue Christmas service that I had planned. But it was a special service indeed.
Your little ones, dear Lord, are we, and come your lowly bed to see;
enlighten every soul and mind, that we the way to you may find.
Oh, draw us wholly to you, Lord, and to us all your grace accord;
true faith and love to us impart, that we may hold you in our heart.
(Lutheran Book of Worship, 52)
