I was no older than the first grade. The most enduring memory of that Christmas season is one downtown shopping night. My hometown is located at the confluence of two rivers: the Ohio and the Tennessee. In winter, they make the downtown crosswinds positively icy. The coldest corner was Fourth and Broadway, the location of the Paducah Dry Goods (a twin of the Higbee’s department store in A Christmas Story).
As Dad dropped the three of us off at the store, cold air funneled up from those rivers to chill us. After parking the car a few blocks away, he rejoined us inside. The fourth floor, home of toys, was also the home of Santa’s red velvet throne. The highlight of this Christmastime memory is sitting on Santa’s lap, telling him my toy needs, and realizing that his beard was real. That beard convinced me he was the real thing.
Eventually, my parents bundled us up and moved us down four floors and to the front of the store. Things get a little hazy after that. I do have a vibrant memory of my mother holding my hand as the three of us stood at the curb waiting for Dad to return with the car and drive us home. We waited, and waited.
And waited.
Dad never returned that night.
That is the end of that memory: the three of us standing there, getting colder: watching, waiting, wondering.
An unfinished Christmas.
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There is, of course, more to this memoir.*
But what if there weren’t? What if that was all we could ever know? How strange to feel there must be more, but be unable to know how things turned out.
That’s what’s happening with King Ahaz in this week’s Isaiah passage. It must have seemed odd to hear Isaiah tell about a virgin conceiving a son whose name would mean "God with us" and then—nothing. Ahaz lived and died without ever experiencing the fulfillment of that prophecy.
It was like that for all the people of Israel year in and year out, century after century, as they waited for the Messiah, waited to learn the rest of the story. All they had heard was the beginning. Prophet after prophet delivered a cliff-hanger but never finished the story.
We, too, have been waiting on God all these centuries, ever since Jesus came to us in human form. And … God has been waiting on us. While we’ve been patiently waiting on God to return, God has been patiently waiting until more of us are ready for that return.
It’s the story of a Christmas that had its beginning more than 2,000 years ago and has remained open all this time—waiting on us.
An unfinished Christmas, indeed.
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* For the rest of the story about my dad, the fuller version of that Christmas memory can be read at: http://steveorr.blogspot.com/search/label/02Memoir-An%20Unfinished%20Christmas?m=0
PHOTO and Info about my hometown of Paducah, Kentucky:
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We’re deep into the Advent season and Christmas Day is almost here. Friday morning at 8:00 is our last opportunity in 2025 to join together at DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast. As always, we will gather on Zoom** and at Our Breakfast Place for tasty food, filling scriptures, and nourishing discussions.
Blessings,
Steve
**Zoom link (Zoom allows you to mute the camera and the microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.)
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89947678414
READINGS FOR
FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT (DECEMBER 21, 2025) AND THE COMING WEEK
Find them here:
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts/?y=17134&z=a&d=4
Print them here:
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/wp-content/uploads/pdfs/Ax_FourthSundayofAdvent.pdf
Isaiah 7:10-16
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-25
