SAVING FACE

Grandkids sitting on Granddad (Thanksgiving 2007)

Grandkids table at Thanksgiving.


It's been too long since I've visited with you. I want to share the story I wrote last Christmas, hope you enjoy it and MERRY CHRISTMAS.

SAVING FACE

Just after Christmas last year I purchased a three-piece nativity set. It’s made of an off-white resin/stone mixture. I chose it because the figures look realistic and I like the way the fabric of their clothes seems to flow.

We positioned the set high on a large rock in our front yard. My husband, Craig adjusted one of our spotlights to shine so that the trio would be clearly visible to those who pass by. Ethne, our granddaughter, loves the figures. As soon as she arrives for a visit she says, “Baby Jesus, see it.” I take her hand to steady her as we walk over the large uneven river rocks of our desert landscaping. When we reach the little family of three she says, “Baby Jesus. Hold it.” Then she lifts the figure of the Christ child to plant a tender kiss on his face. This new ritual delights me and I pictured it as a permanent part of our family’s yearly Christmas tradition. But that was before the winds came.

El Paso wind can be vicious. It blew in, swept Joseph from his place of honor and sent him crashing headlong into the stones below. Joseph lost face; in fact he lost all of his face. There was nothing but a huge empty gap where his features used to be. I collected four jagged pieces of his shattered image then picked up my broken Joseph to carry him inside. I hid him. I couldn’t let a faceless man watch over Mary and Baby Jesus.

In a strange way, I hurt for the lifeless figure, wondering why he couldn’t have fallen backwards where the damage wouldn’t be so obvious. Gluing the back of his robe would have been so easy. No one would even notice that he’d been damaged and repaired. But this injury was apparent, from ear to ear and forehead to chin, the Joseph I had enjoyed was missing.

I didn’t throw Joseph away or seek to replace him. I knew what he needed—a surgeon with skillful hands. Luckily, I’m married to one. Craig went to work on our statue and glued the plaster back together. Now Joseph is restored. He’s not broken anymore. His scars are visible, cracks crisscross his face and there is a small gap near his hairline where a small piece of plaster is completely missing. It’s obvious he’s been mended. But Joseph has rejoined his family.

Sadly, it is not unusual for a man or woman to fall publicly and their image to break upon the rocks of sinful choices. Sometimes they are those in high places, other times they are our neighbors, friends or members within our own family. With no place to hide, their brokenness is apparent to all and often causes pain for others.

When I consider this, I think of my Joseph. The cracks in his face will remind me, year after year, that Jesus came to restore people. He can mend every person who has lost face. Bind up every broken heart. Heal every shattered family. Christmas whispers that there is hope and healing in the loving hands of the One who is a surgeon of souls.

So, come to Him this Christmas, as you are—needy, frail, and breakable—fashioned of dust. Give thanks that the roaring wind hasn’t yet blown through your life, or that though you bear scars, you have survived. For at the manger, you will find Jesus reaching out to lift you up in order to plant a tender kiss of mercy on your face and restore your soul.