Is that a star?
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
Driving at dusk on the road between Ramona and Tampa I saw the Hajek house had their Christmas lights up. One tree out in front was twinkling and it seemed to me that the cows in the corral across the lane were watching it intently.
"What's with that tree?" the biggest cow said to me. "Is it on fire?"
"It's Christmas decorations," I said.
"If they want to put up decorations, they should be putting lights on this barn, not on a house," that cow retorted. "Isn't this where it all started, this Christmas business — in a stable?"
I had to think about that one for a minute or two. Yes, this Christmas business had all started in a stable, and no, I hadn't ever seen lights on a barn. It did seem like an injustice, but one has to be cautious when you find yourself having a conversation with a cow — even if it's the Christmas season.
Coming home from Salina the other evening, my mother was watching the Christmas sky.
"Pat, is that a star?" she asked of me in the back seat. I craned my neck and peered in the direction she was pointing.
I looked and then said, "I think it's the light on a radio tower."
"Oh," Mom said somewhat comforted by my pronouncement. I sounded so sure, after all. "It hasn't moved, but it seemed too bright to be a star."
I could imagine the shepherds having this conversation, "Jeb, what's that bright light over there? Could it be a star?" and Jeb would answer, just like me — probably because he was the oldest, "Nah, I think it must be a radio tower."
It wasn't! It was a star!
And then someone heard singing. "Sammy, if you don't turn down that CD contraption you're listening to, you are going to be deaf by the time you are my age, son. I can hear it clear over here!"
But it wasn't some kid playing his radio too loud, either. It was angels.
Now, folks, perhaps I've been too long in the country — talking to cows and all — but if you think my story is a strange one, just imagine the stories that circulated around A.D. whatever it was at the beginning of that era. Try explaining an angel or the wonders of an illegitimate child.
As the Christmas lights go up this year, I am reminded to let my light shine — whether it's spiritual lights, the light in my eyes, or the twinklies on my front porch.
After Mom saw the star, we started singing carols in the car. Three-part harmony filled the car and a certain peacefulness filled my heart as the words and the music tumbled out. It was part joy, part gratitude, part nostalgia.
To sing with my mom and my sister made me nostalgic for my daughters missing from this circle. To hear the parts, the harmony come so naturally, filled me with gratitude. And the joy came from being able to spend another day in the country.
