Angel Nightgowns

The two girls twirled around in their new “angel” nightgowns as Christmas music was playing in the background. The white twinkling lights on the fancy Christmas tree seemed to be dancing along with them. The Christmas tree was beautifully elegant – it looked like it was out of a designer holiday magazine. The two dancing girls were innocent and naïve – too young to know of anything else but the light heartedness that always accompanied the Christmas season.

My sister and I grabbed hands and spun around in circles until we fell over. I remember lying on the floor, breathing hard, just taking the whole scene in. The whole moment seemed magically perfect.

But now I’m 21 and my sister is 18. We both came home from college and are practically living out of our suitcases for the next few weeks. We don’t get new nightgowns every Christmas Eve, nor do we dance to Christmas music when the Christmas tree lights are on. We no longer pretend that we’re in the angel choir announcing the Savior’s birth. And, we definitely don’t wake up early on Christmas morning to open presents anymore.

The wonder and awe of Christmas is still more or less the same though. The excitement of seeing lights, singing Christmas carols, reading the Christmas story, decorating the tree, building gingerbread houses…yeah, it’s still there, just expressed differently. The reality of it all has changed.

The Christmas Eve service at Cedar Grove was as wonderful as always. I played guitar and from my corner of the stage I could see the whole sanctuary. The decorations, the candles on the walls, the families, all the emotions… When I’m on stage, I usually try to make eye contact with a few people. It’s the same few people I always try to find…but they weren’t there tonight. Neither was my family. Everything is just a little different this year…


The house is quiet and I’m sitting alone on the floor wrapped in a blanket by the fireplace gazing at the tree. And I’m still wearing my outfit from the church service. Something in me wants to wake up my sister and twirl around to Christmas music in the living room by the tree. I miss those moments…

I’m feeling joyful, but there’s a hint of sorrow that goes with it. I’m older now. I’ve traveled around the world and have seen people in desperate situations and living in poverty. I’ve held children in a third world country who are no longer living because they did not get the simple medical care they needed. How about the oppressed and marginalized people in America? The kids and broken families in Cabrini Green and other Housing Projects…what about them? My view of “it’s all good” has been tainted. My heart is heavy and light.

There’s a strong desire to go back in time and experience life and Christmas like a child…but we can’t go back. We’ll never be children again.

My “cheerful Christmas blog” turned a little depressing…so I’ll end it on a good note.

Hope. That’s what Christmas is. We may live in a filthy and dying world, but that’s why Jesus came – to save us – to bring us the gift of hope.

“And I, I celebrate the day that You were born to die so I could one day pray for You to save my life.” – I Celebrate the Day by Relient K



Written with Love,
Andrea Rose