December Sunday School Scribbles
A/N: Two afternoons before Christmas, one of our young adult real life kids tore 3 ankle ligaments (playing soccer on her old elementary school playground) which required casting, and triggered serious maternal concern/care so my Christmas stories may not be posted right on time. After 24 hours, a new second cast was required; the first was rubbing her ankle raw. A Definite Holiday Bummer!
Early December Sunday mornings at St. Matthew's Catholic Church in Washington D.C. meant a variety of things to the parishioners, depending upon their ages. For elementary school students, it was a time of frenetic activity during Sunday School classes each week. Not only did the teacher need to cover the theology lesson specified for that particular date, but the kids had to complete successive portions of their Advent season artwork gift projects to ultimately delight proud parents on Christmas morning. The last step was wrapping these gifts, which became more successful as the wrappers matured. Some early efforts were downright humorous on Christmas morning.
The volunteer catechism teachers had worked out a rotating schedule for each age group so that different items were presented from year to year. The added bonus of this was that if there were multiple children in a family, the parents would eventually have similar gifts from each child to privately compare, cherish, and publicly admire. Since Booth had attended St Matthew's ever since joining the Hoover FBI staff, Parker, Christine, and Hank each went through the same religious curriculum as they grew up.
From Parker's first crookedly-cut, green-scribbled simple isosceles triangle Christmas tree, to Hank's newly-completed cotton-ball trimmed, red construction paper Santa Claus figure kneeling at the manger, the agent treasured each one. And while Brennan didn't hold any belief in God, nor profess any religious affiliation, her maternal heart thrilled with each new addition to her children's Christmas art collection. When Hank's pre-school class began, she decided to purchase an artificial Christmas tree to allow plenty of room for displaying their child-made ornaments. Booth, of course, argued for a second live tree, but finally accepted her logic that coniferous sap and resin might damage their treasures.
As the young members of St. Matthew's congregation grew up, some began to regard Sunday School as babyish and boring, even as their teachers worked hard to keep them interested. But making Christmas gifts for their parents was one activity they never disdained. Some kids realized it saved them money, others enjoyed the crafts, still others saw the tradition they were creating. This latter group was smaller, mostly comprised of children who were middle or younger siblings like Christine. She noticed how proud her dad was of Parker's and her creations, knew he was sentimental about Christmas, and shared his exuberant love of the season.
Once the students reached middle school age, they spent more class time preparing for the Christmas program presented each year on the last Sunday of Advent. Songs and music were practiced, lines were learned, available costumes were examined and enhanced. Later on as high schoolers, the kids would herd and rehearse with little sheep and baby angels, and decorate the church. Some also helped teachers minimize spilled glue and glitter overflow from the little kids' artistic efforts.
With five years between them, Hank and Christine made Christmas gifts together for three years, when he was 4, 5, and 6; and she 9 to 11. His wobbly work was an adorable contrast to her more skillful creations. Being older, Parker treasured the Christmas mornings he was around to witness these gift presentations, remembering his own such activities while opening gifts with his father and the broad smiles and bear hugs they elicited.
By the time Hank finished grammar school, the ornament tree Brennan had suggested was nicely adorned each year, with ornaments spaced evenly upon its branches. She knew in years to come that grandchildren's offerings might begin to crowd the tree, but just as there was always space for more love in one's heart and guests at one's dinner table, a Christmas tree was never too full of lovingly-created childish decorations. If need be, she could display the 3-D ones and archive the flat ones, rotating them yearly.
Putting it up from year to year, she enjoyed regaling her children with stories of the art projects she and Russ had concocted at Christine's kitchen table all year long. Being on the run hiding from enemies unknown to their kids, Max and she had to make holidays special without the magic of grandparents and relatives. So they made salt crystal figures, drew intricate spirograph designs, colored on paper with markers and diffused the dye with sprayed water, spun watercolor or food dye pictures to spread the paint outward. Their science teacher dad had endless ideas for such projects, their mom supplied ample materials, and the formica kitchen table was easily cleaned afterwards.
Booth's such experiences were more limited to a few early years with his mother, and later once with Grams. Both parents reveled in the fact that their children never faced the jolts they had experienced as youngsters. As time went on, that Christmas ornament tree came to represent so much more than just construction paper, markers, and paste. It symbolizes the security, safety and love of family. It was a scrapbook of their 30, 40, and possibly 50 years together.