This past Christmas found me pondering more than one biblical miracle. Of course, most of us are plenty familiar with the obvious one, the miracle of Jesus’ birth. But Feeding the Multitudes? What was that all about?
Each year during mid-December, the management at Maggie’s assisted living center hosts a lovely and festive holiday party. Folks gather together to eat, sing carols, and greet one another with words of cheer and goodwill. This year was no exception. The place was filled with friends, neighbors and families. Maggie enjoyed it immensely. So did I.
When I was a child, my family was all about Christmas Eve. Anyone who didn’t have someplace else to go was invited to our house. Come one, come all. Now, as an adult, although we tend to focus more on Christmas Day, the rule still holds true. All are welcome. Friends of friends, in-laws of in-laws. It doesn’t matter who. Much like the well-know marine mantra, when it comes to celebrating the holidays at my house, no one is left behind.
Usually, I carefully avoid mingling my work and personal lives. However, it was Christmas Eve, and although Maggie is a client, she is without family, and I was determined she would enjoy some holiday hoopla. Gathering up a small loaf of pumpkin bread, some punch and my three teenage boys (much to their disgruntlement,) I headed off to see her. In as much as it was to be a treat for Maggie, the promise of homemade bread was used to entice my boys to be a bit more agreeable. In my experience, I have found that nothing lights up an older person’s face like that of seeing a younger person’s face.
As we arrived, I suddenly identified with the miracle of the five loaves and two fish with which Jesus was reported to have fed the multitudes. I had mistakenly thought there would be a celebration of sorts going on, and our festivities would go unnoticed. Instead, approximately eight other residents, without the company of family or friends, were sitting in the main room when we walked in. Much to my alarm, it occurred to me they now had visions not of sugarplums dancing in their heads, but those of pumpkin bread and punch.
Discretely, I dashed the boys’ hopes of getting even the smallest portion of the culinary delight. If questioned about why they weren’t having any, they were instructed to say they prefer water and popcorn (which is always in abundance at the facility.) “Yeah right, like they’re gonna believe that Mom,” my fourteen year-old taunted. With a raised eyebrow, I suggested it would be in his best interest to be very convincing.
Praying for yet another Christmas miracle, I divided up the food and drink, and although there was not a crumb or drop to spare, there was enough for all to enjoy. I was humbled, as were my children, at our new friends’ appreciation of such a small celebration. Although the refreshments were meager, it was clear to me, the healthy side-serving of compassion and companionship was much more satisfying than the main dish.
In retelling the story to a friend, I said I was certain my children learned a lesson about the importance of giving simple gifts that day. After a brief pause, she asked if her family could come along next year. We both laughed as I promised her kids would be all for it. “Can’t wait to see you there,” I said, “plan on bringing some bread.” With that, the number of children’s hearts and minds nourished by taking part in a small act of kindness will double. Feeding the multitudes …
Copyright © 2011 by Carol M.W. Bagazinski – All Rights Reserved.
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