(A dialog sermon with alternating voices.)
It was sunrise--Millie's favorite time to look out across the lake--the night blown snow glistened smooth in the morning sunlight--virgin snow she remembered her father used to call it--pure and perfect--waiting to receive the too common foot prints and tracks of human presence.
The three boys were headed for town--Christmas shopping was on their minds in this week before the big day--they headed for the lake shore knowing they could save walking at least a mile by cutting across the frozen water. A bright sunny day--their boot prints the first marks on the wind swept lake. They trudged through the drifts and boot skated across the icy clear areas. The village stores, houses and steeples with snow frosted roof lines were silhouetted on the far shore against the almost too blue sky.
Sitting in her favorite chair Millie could see the boys crossing her lake leaving a wake of trampled snow behind them--She watched as they crossed the frozen surface--passing not far from the old car the village parked on the lake each winter. She always disliked the intrusion of the old car--it didn't belong on her lake any more then the foot prints and tracks. Her husband had always said that the only reason they parked the car on the lake was to give the old men something to bet on when each spring the wagers were made as to when the ice would break and the car would vanish.
The boys passed the car--Art, the thinnest of the three, noticed it was a Ford this year--He smiled to himself remembering the year it had been a VW that floated almost to the old mill dam at the east end of the lake before it sank--That was the year the village board passed an ordinance requiring that only old American cars be used in the future--they sank quicker.
Millie spent the day cleaning the house, writing Christmas cards and putting up a few remaining Christmas decorations. She really didn't notice the wind building or the snow beginning again--December in Minnesota was one continuous cycle of storms that soon became the background for life's routines. The sunlight was now veiled by snow--Millie turned on the table light and began to unpack the box she always saved for last--the nativity set with the special stable her husband had build so many years before--It was special because he had wired it with a tiny light that glowed like a star above the manger. She always waited each year until all the other decorations were unpacked before she opened the box with the nativity set. Carefully she unwrapped each piece and positioned them around the manager--a shepherd, Joseph, some sheep, another shepherd, Mary--each piece had its place--a perfect picture of the Christmas story--each figure with its part to play.
The boys had had a successful time shopping--seen lots of friends--found most of the items they needed to complete their Christmas lists--Each of them had their shopping bag of boxes. As they were eating lunch at the drugstore they had noticed the snow begin again--at first it was rather light but as the afternoon waned a storm gray dark descended on the village. The boys decided they had best head for home. As they reached the edge of town by the lake the could see the wind blowing walls of snow off the tops of the lake drifts--for a moment they thought about taking the longer way home around the lake on the tree lined shore road--then a blast of artic cold swept them down the shore bank and onto the frozen surface.
Millie placed each figure carefully around the manger--She remembered the parts she had played in the Christmas pageants--the year she was an angel proclaiming the message to the shepherds--the year she almost played Mary--if only she hadn't caught the measles from her sister--the year she brought straw from her parent's farm to line the manger--And then all those years of helping as a Sunday school teacher--More then 70 Christmas programs--she knew the story well and yet each time she unwrapped the nativity pieces she found new feelings within her--While the figures by the manger remained the same she did not. This year she was setting up the stable alone--Carl had died a year and half ago. No one let her be alone that first Christmas--everyone had been so good--Carl was missed by them all. But now more than a year had passed--this was her first Christmas really on her own.
The storm had come up fast--The temperature was dropping fast--the wind chill even faster as the snow fury swirled whiteout blasts at the boys--This was no longer an artic expedition for adventure and fun--the gathering dark was beginning to confuse the boys as to where the other shore--where any shore--was to be found. About a half mile on to the lake Art began to think that maybe they had made a mistake--they yelled at each other above the siren wind--holding hands now to keep from getting separated--the snow was getting far to deep--they needed a place to rest--even a high drift might give shelter from the wind.
Millie had finished the nativity scene--she reached down behind the window table to plug in the special little light--nothing happened--only darkness where the star was supposed to be--the bulb must have burned out she thought--her nativity scene suddenly looked incomplete. She popped the small light from its bracket above the stable leaving a hole where the star was supposed to shine--she sat down in her chair and listened to the storm outside--a replacement bulb would have to wait for morning.
Art couldn't feel his toes--or his fingers--his face hurt with the cold. The three boys needed shelter and needed it soon. The wind compassed from all directions with walls of snow--the boys pulled in opposite directions trying to find their way. Suddenly Art stepped into a drift that held under his foot--another step and it held also--"The Shore?", he wondered--but he could hardly believe that they had walked that far that quickly--then his foot slipped and he saw the shape of a car door handle--it was the old Ford. He yelled for the other boys to help him dig the door clear so they could climb inside--at least they would be out of the storm--they could wait.
Millie prepared herself a simple meal--cleaned up the kitchen--then turned on the radio and settled into her chair with a book--this was how she had spent so many winter nights over the years. She looked around the room at the Christmas tree hung with familiar ornaments--the pictures of earlier times--the nativity scene sitting dark by the window with the storm on her lake as back drop.
It was cold in the car but at least they were out of the wind. The boys found themselves in a half buried car--on the wind ward side the windows were all clear while on the opposite side the snow piled high in a drift created by the snow fence effect of the car's shape--they could see clear through the wind shield but found the back seat a cave with all the windows snow covered. Every once in a while a drift would begin on the wind shield too but then an artic blast would sweep it clean. It was cold--really cold--Art had hoped there might be an old blanket or something to warm up with in the car but no luck--Then one of the other boys held up a coffee can--"Look what I found," he exclaimed. They called them winter survival kits--an old coffee can with candles, candy bars and matches. Arts fingers were almost too cold to hold the match--the first two wouldn't light but the third one burst to life with light and a flash of warmth. They lit the candle--poured a few drops of wax into the bottom of the coffee can and stuck the candle to the puddle of soft wax--all three held gloved hands to the quickly warming metal of the can. As long as the candle lasted they would have light and some warmth--but it was going to be a long night.
As Millie sat reading she kept pausing to look at the nativity set--Something did not seem right--She got up and walked over to rearrange the figures--Shepherds clustered together to see the child--Mary and Joseph the proud parents on opposite sides of the manger--"No," she though, "Joseph would be concerned about his young wife--he would be by her side" and she moved Joseph. Better, she thought, but it needed a light--a star. She returned to her chair--the storm gusted--then fell silent for a minute--she looked at the nativity set--in the hole where the light was supposed to be she thought she saw a light--the wind swirled around the house again. It must have been something in the room reflected off the window glass, she thought. She moved her head left a little--then right--no light--she settled back with her book--another pause in the storm--she looked up again and from her angle could swear there was a light--dim, but a light--shining through the hole in her stable scene--The light would have to be on the lake--but who would be on the lake in this weather--and where could there be such a light.
The candy bars were stale--but anything to get your mind off the cold. Each boy tried to assure the others that everything would be all right--their parents were probably already missing them--there was sure to be a search party out--none of them wanted to add the line they knew to be true--as soon as the storm let up. The candle was getting low--and when it was gone it would be dark and they would be cold--really cold.
Millie had now lost interest in her book--the light behind her nativity scene had her full attention. A light had guided the wisemen--the light of the angels had brought the shepherds--could it be that she was seeing something more then just a light. She picked up the phone and dialed the operator--she asked for the Sheriff's office--The young lady who answered identified herself and Millie thought she recognized her voice--she told her about the light. Told her about the light in the night--the light in the midst of the storm.
The last candle was burning low--the light
would soon be gone. Outside the car the cold swirled bursts of
snow against the windows--they huddled close against the storm--against
the cold--around the light. Suddenly the car door opened--and
they heard the a voice shout, "We found them."
Amen.