On Thursday morning, Plum and I went to church together for the school assembly. Twice a year, the students from the local primary school come across the street for a term-end assembly in the church. Since I haven’t had a chance to visit the school since Plum was born, I thought that this Christmas assembly would be a good chance to reconnect. And maybe to show off the boy, too.
It was lovely. The youngest kids all had their nativity play costumes on, and the choir sang a few tunes. A small brass ensemble performed, too, and our minister told a story about the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt and how a spider helped them hide in a cave. The principal awarded the House Cup (which produced a Harry Potter-esque excitement) and everything was lovely and chaotic and special – the way Christmas assemblies and concerts and plays always are when school kids are trying their best in the last few days before Christmas.
But the best of the best happened behind everyone’s back.
It started when Plum got antsy. At five months, he’s fairly good at being in church. He likes to look up at the ceiling and and lights keep him interested, but there are limits. By the time the brass ensemble had taken the stage, it was definitely time for a little Mummy-and-Plum bounce-and-dance at the back of the church. That was where we found Hugh.
Hugh was also having a hard time keeping still. He often does. I’ve watched him before at school assemblies, kicking and fussing. His learning assistant is always close at hand to manage the outbursts and to reassure him as much as she can. During assemblies, the two of them often make their way in and out of the gym hall, trying to balance being present with the other children and being quiet. I think he’s about 8 years old. I’m not sure exactly how you would describe Hugh’s challenges, but I’ve watched how hard it is for him to make his body still enough for his mind to focus. Or maybe it’s the other way around.
On Thursday, Hugh was lying on the carpet at the back of the church, bouncing his legs up and down and saying he wanted to go back to school. His teaching assistant was rummaging through a large bag, looking for the another way to distract him. I stood near the door and swayed in time to the music. Plum chortled. Hugh looked up curiously and I looked into Plum’s face to see how he was doing. Plum’s eyes opened wide and he gave Hugh a mighty droolly grin. Hugh grinned back. He got up off the floor and came in close to take a look. And that was that. For the rest of the assembly, they were fast friends. The learning assistant offered Hugh plastic rings to play with and Hugh, grinning, offered them to Plum. Who took them one by one and then gleefully dropped them – one by one – on the floor. Hugh picked them up and offered them again. And again. And then more grinning. And more.
It turns out that Hugh has brand-new twin sisters at home. They were born in November and so aren’t yet at the play-stage. Plum opened his eyes to a different perspective on babies. Here was a person! A small, interested, shiny-eyed person who could grin and play games and be absolutely entranced by him. Who could really see him. Plum loved him in all his jostling, distracted, bouncy Hugh-ness. And Hugh loved Plum right back again. Fiercely and joyfully.
The assembly was almost over when Hugh asked if Plum would be there at the assembly next year. I said that we could do better than that. Plum could come to assemblies at the school in the New Year. And that made the learning assistant grin, too. She said that Plum had made her day – and her job much easier, too. She was just delighted that Hugh had met my little Plum that morning. It made it feel like Christmas.
I love it when I catch a glimpse of the ministry my kids do.
But, of course, this wasn’t just what Plum was doing. It felt bigger than that. There was something of the incarnation going on at the back of the church. Something of the word of God was being lived in the games and the grins between Plum and Hugh.
I don’t want to say that God worked through Plum to help Hugh through that long assembly. Nor do I want to say that in Hugh’s struggles, I saw something of the humbled humanity that God inhabited through Christ. These things are true in a way, but it’s all more complicated than that. What I can say is that when Plum and Hugh met, God was present. God worked through them, in them, with them. God played and grinned, too. Emmanuel in kids on the carpet. The Word made flesh. And it was beautiful.
Merry Christmas, my friends. May this season of the incarnation be a beautiful one in your homes and in your hearts.
