There’s so much about Christmas that I love. For many years the lovely decorations in our church have been a huge part of all that … the Chrismon tree, wreathes hanging on doors with red ribbons, candles at windows.
The people of the church that decorate the sanctuary do an amazing job decorating with poinsettias. In years past, when we had a robust congregation, members would purchase a poinsettia through a program that funded charities or church missions, leave them at the church through the holidays and take them home after Christmas. They were abundant. Walking into the church during the Christmas season the sight of numbers and rows of the red-flowered, green-leafed plants lining the altar, sitting very close together on the rails leading from the pulpit to the sanctuary floor and spilling beyond throughout the church would take your breath away. Regardless of what was going on or how I felt, I ALWAYS have been determined not to miss church and that breathtaking sight during the Christmas season.
As the members of the congregation have aged and left for nursing homes or for lives with adult children, or simply just left their lives and moved on to what comes next, our numbers dwindled, but not the beauty of the poinsettias in the sanctuary during Christmas. That remained constant … a reminder that the heart of the church continued beating to the rhythm of the season.
COVID changed all that. Our first Christmas on ZOOM was still lovely but there was no substitute for the first sight of those lovely poinsettias as we walked into the narthex at the beginning of the Christmas season and the vivid red of so many poinsettias overwhelmed all our senses as we looked into the sanctuary. What a loss.
When we returned to church in-person and in masks, our numbers had dwindled farther as the dark cloud of COVID and the reluctance to wear masks lay heavily on most churches.
In true Christmas spirit, that second COVID Christmas a few donated poinsettias decorated the rails and floor of the area surrounding the altar. While the numbers of plants were fewer, they in their beauty, were there as a reminder of the “before times” when the beauty of so many plants was overwhelming.
The post-COVID world has impacted so many businesses and organizations and clubs and churches. Numbers have dwindled, yet in our church we have a special group of people that attend regularly. We have gone from simply being members of the same congregation to a select number of people that have grown closer as friends. We have become so much more like family and we look forward to Sundays to see each other and renew those friendships over and over as we share this unexpected journey through our new normal.
There is a lovely woman among those of us that attend regularly that sees to it that the altar is decorated to enhance the season or in recognition of the special celebrations of the church; communion and All Saints Day. She does this out of the goodness of her heart and love for the church. At the beginning of this Christmas season, she brought two of the largest poinsettias I have ever seen to church and placed one on each side of the altar. Although not dozens flanking the floor and hand rails and every window, they are amazingly beautiful. For the first time in quite a while I did a quick intake of breath when I first saw them. It was like coming home to a warm fire and Christmas music on a snowy afternoon.
Today was the fourth Sunday of Advent and my husband and I were to light the fourth Advent candle. When we walked into the sanctuary those two enormous poinsettias were visibly drooping … wilting … begging for water. A friend assured me they had just been watered. The rest was in God’s hands.
Christmas is not only a time for shopping and carols and toys and good cheer. I believe it is also a time of miracles.
As the service began, we enjoyed singing traditional Christmas carols. My husband and I lit the Advent candle. Our minister read from the Christmas story … traditional words that reminded me of my childhood … songs that took me back in my mind to visions of the multitude of poinsettias that adorned every corner of our long-ago Christmases in the sanctuary.
And then I noticed something truly stunning … the two gigantic poinsettias on either side of the altar were changing visibly. Their lovely leaves and flowers were perking up. By staring at them you could almost, but not quite, see them growing stronger and brighter before your eyes, the drooping changing quickly with renewed life. While we sang Christmas carols and our minister told the age-old Christmas story the poinsettias were “responding,” going quickly from wilted to revived and rejuvenated.
By the end of the service, not quite an hour, those two enormous poinsettias were healthy and lovely and shedding their red bounty on all that were there … as though they responded to the presence of all of us; the familiar music, the story we all know by heart and the love of the season they represented.
99.9% of people, if asked, would tell you the transformation of those lovely poinsettias was due entirely to the watering they received just before we arrived and the service began. I’m sure that had quite a lot to do with it but I also prefer to think it was a Christmas miracle witnessed during the Christmas service, shared by good friends who could think of no place on Earth they would rather be.
I wonder if I could have been the only person that realized the profound change in the poinsettias, throughout the service, at just the right time to be considered a Christmas miracle. I wonder if I could have been the only person that appreciated the change in those lovely plants as they responded to the Christmas story and the lyrics of special carols? I’ll ask our minister about that … ask him if he noticed.
Plants are living things. It is proven that they respond to good care, soothing conversation and music. You will never convince me that those two giant poinsettias did not respond to Christmas and the memory of the beauty brought to our church by their predecessors and the appreciation we have felt at the beauty THEY have brought to us each Sunday during this Christmas season.
It was probably just the water, but maybe not entirely.
Merry Christmas!

