A Christmas Present to Remember...Noel!

The French word for “Christmas” is “Noel,” which was derived from a Latin word meaning “birthday.”  The carol, “The First Noel,” was traditionally sung on Christmas Eve to celebrate the bringing in of the yule log (a very hard log that was burned in the hearth during Christmas).  The carol focuses on the birth of Christ, and the chorus, which features the repetition of the word “Noel,” is the equivalent of saying, “Happy birthday!”  When the three wise men came to meet Jesus, they brought to him precious gifts to honor and celebrate him.  Here’s a little excerpt (I dare you to read it without having to sing it!):

Then entered in those wise men three, full rev'rently upon their knee, and offered there, in His presence, their gold and myrrh and frankincense.

Then let us all with one accord sing praises to our heav'nly Lord, that hath made heav'n and earth of naught, and with His blood mankind hath bought.

Noel, noel! Noel, noel! Born is the King of Israel!"

It’s funny how God works…He allowed his holy, perfect Son to come to earth as a baby, grow up under his parents’ instruction, and later to become sacrifice to save us all.  You’d think that God would be so busy with various famines, wars, and tragedies that He wouldn’t have much time to deal with the little things in life.  Yet He does.  And perhaps because Jesus walked this earth just like all of us, He understands how painful the little things can be. 

My beloved Corgi, Mandy, died this past June as a result of cancer.  She was 13.  Losing her broke my heart.  I don’t think even I, a sappy animal lover and sentimental schmuck, was prepared for how much losing her would hurt.  After about 4 months I could start thinking about finding another dog, but had to enter that pool one toe at a time.  By early December I decided I was actually ready to seriously search for a dog to adopt.  I thought I found one on Craigslist, but it mysteriously fell through.  I knew that a puppy would be a summertime-only endeavor, what with the potty training, but I was open to adopting an adult dog as well.  “The right dog at the right time,” became my mantra.  I even prayed about this canine quest.  And I felt rather silly about that.  I mean, does God really have time for my dog woes?  Really?  But despite my doubts, I put my trust in the ever-faithful, ever-surprising God of Grace. 

On Christmas Eve I went to the Kootenai Humane Society to help out with the cats.  I love volunteering at a place where the people love the animals as if they were their very own pets, and where every effort is made to love, care for, and find homes for animals in need.  It feels good to help clean cages, fill food dishes, do laundry, and generally love on animals.  The quality employees, many of whom I consider friends, are the cherry on top. 

Dogs pass through the cat area all morning long, as the workers move dogs outside so that their kennels can be cleaned.  As I was finishing up a cat cage, I turned to see Mary walking through the room with a dog on a leash.  I don’t know what made me take a second look, but when I turned I realized that Mary was leading a Welsh Corgi through the room.  “Wait, is that a Corgi?” I asked.

 “It is!” Mary replied.  

“Is she up for adoption?” I asked.  (There’s no way, I thought, that this corgi is a stray…).

“She is,” said Mary, “but I think there’s a hold on her.”

“Can I put my name on the list, just in case?”

Mary replied that I could get my name in line, and that she’d be right with me to make that happen.  I moved on to the rabbit cages, almost certain that nothing would come of it.  But then Mary came around the corner, “Heather, there are no holds on this dog!  Come on!  Let’s get her processed and she will be yours!”

I squealed like a school girl as I dashed to the adoption counter.  Within minutes “Sammy” became ours.  I couldn’t take her home with me, however, because she was scheduled for a spay surgery that day.  So the day after Christmas I came back to claim our new family member, an eight month old Corgi cross (the jury is still out on what other dog DNA she is carrying around) with an adorably substantial overbite and a calm, quiet spirit.  She is very sweet, very desirous of being a good girl.  She is a cuddler, loves kisses, and enjoys playing with other dogs.  Once she stops chasing our cats she will earn her gold star of perfection, and that (I am sure) is in due time. 

This Christmas Eve, as I left the shelter and thought about this little “Christmas miracle,” I was struck with the realization that this dog was in fact a gift to me from God.   Everything led perfectly to a dog that is a perfect fit for our family.  There may not have been a bright red bow on her head, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that God picked out this animal just for me.  I suspect He had a smile on his face as I received this gift.  I decided to name our dog “Noel” to commemorate her entrance into our family. 

So I encourage you to have faith that all things, including the little things, matter to God.  Did your car break down?  God cares about that.  Do you have a big test or project coming up?  God cares.  Are you rattled with little, nagging worries?  Give them to God and He will take care of things.  Suffering from the flu or a broken heart?  God is right with you, covering you in His presence and Grace. 

Leave it to God to flip everything on its head:  Wise men from the east bowed and offered gifts to a little baby from a little Podunk town called Bethlehem.  Christ offered his perfect life for the sake of flawed, struggling sinners.  And God gave me a Christmas present on His birthday.