Two weeks prior to December 25, the dialogue between a mother and son went like this.

Jeff: I am NOT going to celebrate Christmas this year.

Mother: Oh? Why not?

Jeff: I’m too old.

Mother: You are 14. Have you thought this through? You do realize what the consequences will be, correct?

Jeff: Yes.

Mother: Are you sure? Are you positive that this is what you really want? No tree trimming, no special foods, no family day trips…

Jeff: That’s right, and no secret Santa and NO church!

Mother: I see. So, this might actually be a bigger issue than just Christmas, is that what you’re saying?

Jeff: I don’t believe in it, mom, or anything else. So, I’m going on permanent cancel mode. This is what I want.

Mother: I’ll be sure to let your sisters know (long pause) and your dad.

Jeff: He will agree with me. He knows I’m old enough to decide for myself.

Mother: Hey, you’ll get no grief from me. One less present to wrap and one fewer place to set at the dinner table.

Mom left the room pretending to be calm and cool, on the outside at least. Later that evening, the conversation between Jeff’s parents showed their serious reservations and concerns.

Dad: I guess the old standby “because I said so” won’t work?

Mom: Hasn’t for years.

Dad: I think he’s going through a phase.

Mom: I wish I knew that for sure.

Dad: What do you think we should do?

Mom: I don’t know. Maybe we should give him some latitude (sigh) but not so much where he can get into trouble. I’d like to draw the line about missing Mass. I was hoping we’d have a few more years before that bridge had to be crossed.

Dad: Will we still be doing the family gift exchanges this year?

Mom: We will, but leaving his name out. Do you want to tell the girls or shall I?

Dad: I’m sure Sharon won’t mind. She’s 17 and doesn’t pay much attention to Jeff anyway. Why don’t you tell her and I’ll talk to Carol? I need to keep in practice with how the six-year-old mind is thinking.

On Christmas morning just before mom, dad, and the two girls were leaving for church, they encountered Jeff meandering down the staircase.

Dad: Oh Jeff, do you have a second?

Jeff: What for?

Dad: Carol has something she wants to give you.

The six-year-old approached cautiously with a folded sheet of construction paper in her tiny grasp. Some glitter was falling to the floor from a few globs of glue that hadn’t dried yet.

Carol: I know you ain’t coming with us, Jeffry. But I want you to have this for Christmas anyways. Daddy said it might be okay.

The little sister had to stand on her tippy toes so her handmade greeting card could reach the brother who had grown too tall for her to hug like she used to. Jeff opened the card and read the crayon scribbled, misspelled wishes.

2 mi big borthe Jefe who I luv 4 alwaz. Mary Chritmis. Xxx Car.

Dad: Thank you, Jeff.

And before the adolescent could reply, the father quickly whisked his younger daughter into his arms, kissed her, and headed for the door.

Dad: Ladies, we’re off to wish Jesus a happy birthday.

Jeff: Mom, Dad (pretending to have some foreign speck in his eye to wipe away)… Would it be okay if I come along with you guys?

Mom: We’ll wait for you.

For Holy Homework:

Fold a piece of paper in half and create a personal birthday card for Jesus. Let it sit in the center of the kitchen table for the entire month or at least until December 25 has passed.

Merry Christmas.

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