Jarrod Jones

This was a video put together by a good friend, Grace member, and Marine, Carey Abbott, for our Christmas Ever services. Heart-moving… Enjoy.

Music: “Welcome to Our World” by Chris Rice

I’m officially stepping into the personal Vlog/Youtube world. What better way to begin than this…

“Now in those days there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that a census be taken . . . .”  Luke 2:1

Caesar Augustus was the Roman Emperor at the time of Jesus’ birth.  The Latin meaning for Augustus is “exalted one.”  Literally his name was “Caesar the exalted one.”

A few verses back an angel declared to Mary that she would name her son, Jesus.  Just Jesus… not Jesus Augustus, or even Jesus “the exalted One,” although He is the exalted and most High Savior and Lord.  I thought that was interesting. Jesus, God, the babe, not the Exalted one.

But I, we, know that Caesar “the exalted one” doesn’t take center stage at Christmas.  We don’t sing Caesar carols, or say “Merry Caesar-mas.”  But my Christmas’ do tend to lean in the direction of Target-mas, or Gap-mas, or Wii-mas, instead of CHRISTmas?  I catch myself wondering if I’m really focused on Jesus Christ or Stressed Augustus?  Know what I’m saying?

Just pondering….

Volunteered to be a guest reader of a book at Josiah’s pre-kindergarten class today (Friday).  I was nervous. But thought maybe I’d get a Christmas sticker out of the deal.  Josiah (and Titus) would be impressed with dad having a sticker.  Anyway, my father-n-law, Steve, is from New York and staying with us for a few days. He went with me for support and protection.

Into the building we walked.  The smell of animal crackers and throw-up in the air. Now into the classroom we stroll. “Heeeeyyyyyy everybody!” They all looked at me as if I was a martian. “Hey lil’ buddy!” I said to one of the little boys. “Hey sweeety, aren’t you cute!” I said to one of the little girls.    Blank stares.

 ”I’ve got the perfect book for you to read to them,” said the teacher. Over against the windows was a white rocking chair with a floral pattern cushioned seat. “Nice,” I thought. She handed me the book. I took my seat.  The children gathered. I rocked in the chair to feel the moment.  Smiled ear to ear. Cleared my throat. Held up the book, and like a good little daycare teacher, I belted “WHO IN HERE WANTS TO READ A BOOK!?”    Blank stares.

The title of the booK:  Merry Christmas Big Hungry Bear! What confused them, and me, was the picture on the cover. It was of a mouse, not a bear.  A little boy asks the million dollar question: “Where’s the Bear?”  I answer, “Just you wait my man, he comes later. And he’s gonna be a-w-e-s-o-m-e.”       

My reading prowess was flaky. I was way too over-the-top animated. They didn’t buy it for a second. And to top it off, with every page there were pics of presents and the mouse, but no bear. Then I did what no daycare guest reader should ever do unless threatened with torture and death (or unless you know how the book ends)— I improvised.  Rambling away, I said,  ”And the mouse had all these presents. He needed to share the presents. but he didn’t want to.  Children? Should he share His presents with the bear?”  More blank stares. Then a little girl asks, “Where is the bear?” I answer, “Oh we’ll see him soon. And he’ll be  a-w-e-s-o-m-e!”

The following pages showed the mouse dragging presents through the snow to the bear’s cave.  Page after page after boring page—mouse, presents, snow.  Then the presents were left at the cave. Still no sign of the bear. Next to the last page shows the mouse in the bed with a smile on its face and fewer presents. Again, I improvised. I had no choice but to improvise now. It was sink or swim… and the water was at my eyelids: “See how happy the mouse is? He’s so happy because he shared his presents with the bear, I think.  Now… who’s ready to see the bear!?!?”  ”Meeeeee!” they cry. Louder I say, “Are you ready to see the happy bear!?”  ”YEEEAAAH!” they shrieked as they began getting up on to their feet. I say, ” Well get ready, because the bear is going to be so a-w-e-s-o-m-e!”

I turn the page.     “The End.”  

Hear that? That’s the needle being ripped off the record.

 All of the air sucked out of the room. I whispered to myself, “The End? Where’s the stinkin’ bear?”  I slowly lifted up my eyes. Their little eyes and minds were in shock and searching. Awkward silence. Frantically I turn the very, very, last page, the page with the cardboard back. Again nothing. Nada. Not a Bear anywhere. 

The children were traumatized. I was traumatized.  They moaned, “ But wheerrre’s the Beeaaarrr?”  In a panic I said: “The bear was shy.”  And the teacher lost it—laughing and stomping her feet lost it.  My father-n-law felt for me, so he said, “yeah, the bear was hibernating!” I said, “yeah, it was in hibernation.”  

I closed the book and just stared at the children.  They stared back at me. More awkward silence.  So I clapped my hands together and said, “Well this was fun!  Ready to go, Josiah???”  Children slowly get up and mill about the room in a daze. I felt like I had just sat before them and barbequed Barney. The Teacher said, “Everybody thank Josiah’s daddy for reading to us.”  And…. blank stares.

I helped Josiah gather his things. Thanked the teacher. Nodded at Steve. And we made a break for it.

But at least I got a sticker.