Spying the Marvelous: Go Tell it on the Mountain
Ask any of my former neighbors on 86th Street in Lincoln, Nebraska, about the Bruxvoort children and among their many stories would be a humorous rendition of the birth announcement the entire street received one cold morning in November of 2003. At 7:30 A.M. in a quiet hospital room just a few blocks from our home, the miracle behind the THUMPS finally arrived, all eight pounds, seven ounces of her. One look at Hannah Faith’s puffy pink face and dark blue eyes, and I knew I’d never be the same. Neither would my children.
By 8:00, my husband had dialed home “You tell them!” he whispered as he sat beside me on the hospital bed and placed the phone under my ear. With their new sister lying peacefully in my arms, I shared the good news with my preschoolers who had just sat down for breakfast. The excited squeals that followed were enchanting, but even more memorable is what happened as soon as my children hung up the telephone.
“I’ve got to tell my friends!” Lukas exclaimed as he abandoned Grandma and his half-eaten cereal and ran out the door to spread the news. Not wanting to be left out, three-year-old Elizabeth followed in a flurry. Soon, the neighbor boys were rubbing sleep from their eyes and giggling at the sight of my barefooted and pajama clad children dancing at their door. “We have a new sister! We have a new sister!” Lukas and Lizzy squealed as they passed out high fives and hugs. From one house to another, my tow-heads ran until they had rung every door bell on the block and spread the good news as far as their established boundaries would allow. Later that day as an assorted array of neighbors stopped by the hospital to meet the joyously proclaimed Hannah Faith, they all told their own version- some with tears, others with laughter- of the morning announcement they had received.
My children’s impromptu birth announcement reminds me that good news is sweeter when it is shared. Hannah’s birth would have been a miracle regardless of who knew of her arrival, but the entire neighborhood was blessed because two small children dared to share the joy. Perhaps that’s why the old Christmas tune commands,“Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere. Go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born.”
The gift of Eternal Life is a present that begs to be shared. You don’t need to be three feet tall to spread the news; a child-like heart will do. Pajamas and bare feet are optional; dancing and whooping are voluntary, but the real message of Christmas is essential. The people in our neighborhoods can’t celebrate the birth of their King if they don’t know He has arrived. A warm cup of cocoa for the frozen-toed mail carrier, a plate of goodies for the elderly shut-in, or a smile for the tired store clerk whose long hours have begun to zap her holiday zeal may pave the way for honest talk of the Hope we have at Christmas time and always. The Reason for the season was never meant to be kept under wraps. So, go ahead… become like a child again and spill the beans!
The Overflow: “When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.” -Luke 2:17-18
