The memory is deeply etched in my mind as the Christmas season comes into focus. The event took place seventy years ago and yet many of the details are as clear as if they took place yesterday. I recall as a young boy my mother and I embarked on our annual Christmas excursion to Philadelphia. Even though the city was just nine miles east of our suburban home, it seemed like we were traveling to a foreign country. The trip was necessitated because we were in search of Christmas presents and wanted to enjoy the elaborate Christmas decorations which merchandizers had bedecked their stores to entice the seasonal shoppers. In that era, the major department stores were in the cities and not “anchor stores” in shopping centers and malls that would later spring up in the suburbs. In fact, I do not even remember the word “mall” being a part of our vocabulary as a child. The most exotic shopping alternative other than downtown department stores was the Sears catalogue that arrived in our mailbox several weeks before Thanksgiving. That catalogue to young children was the catalyst of major cravings for gifts that likely would never materialize but nonetheless stoked fantasies.
Mom and I walked to the trolley station to take us to 69th
street where we would catch the subway to center city Philadelphia. The only
time we traveled on the subway was when we visited my Grandmother in north
Philadelphia. That journey would bypass the stops of center city. For this
excursion we would exit the subway at one of those stops, climb the steps, and
emerge in the land of tall buildings and crowds of bustling people. It was a
world unlike the place that I called home. The first treat of the day was to
stop at the Horn & Hardart Automat. It was a rather novel arrangement for
the time – sort of like a variation of today’s fast-food establishments. Mom
gave me coins to put in the slot to get prepared foods displayed behind small
coin operated glass-doored windows giving me access to my selections. Mom’s
careful eye made sure my selections were not all the dessert variety!
Next, we walked along Market Street and looked at the storefront
windows. Many had mechanical figurines depicting Christmas themes like Santa’s
workshop, nativity scenes with mangers and shepherds, and other wintery
depictions of ice-skaters and snowmen builders. Alternate windows would display
enticing suggestions for Christmas gifts. What I wanted to see the most was
inside the stores where toys were on display, large electric train layouts, and
of course a line to see the jolly man in the red suit! I still have in an old
trunk faded photos that a photographer took for my mother to remember the special
occasion! If it gave me an edge with Santa, I would be willing to sit still for
the photo even though it was against my nature to do so. At Wanamaker’s department
we stood amazed at the light show and organ recital that filled the grand marble
court soaring several stories high. Not something you see back home!
Then came the boring part. My mother went through rack after rack of clothes
looking for just the right gifts for people that were both appropriate and
affordable. The crowds of people, the hot environment, and the lack of interest,
sapped away my excitement for our excursion. Soon the whine, “Are we soon
done?” was repeated over and over again. Finally, when my mother had heard enough,
she somewhat briskly sat me in a vacant chair and told me not to dare move.
After fidgeting in the chair for a while, another boy caught my eye. We decided
it would be fun to play hide and seek in the circular racks of coats, dresses
and assorted finery that had no appeal to us except for the fine hiding places
they provided. The game continued until suddenly we realized we had wandered
from our original perches and now were thoroughly lost. The other boy a bit
older than me ran off looking for his mother, and I was in a panic as to what
to do. I realized I was in trouble like usual and was not too sure if I even wanted
to find my mother. I walked around and tried to figure out where I was, where
the chair I abandoned was, and ultimately where Mom was. I did realize I was far
away from the chair where I was to “not dare move.” After a third trip around
the salesclerk’s desk, a pleasant looking lady asked me, “Are you lost?” To
that question my quiet and sheepish reply was, “I think so.” I didn’t realize I
was lost until I was.
She took me by the hand and led me to a bigger desk and announced to a
man behind the counter, “This boy is lost.” Fear settled in and I wondered, “What
would happen to me.” “How would I find Mom?” “How will I get home?” Then the
bigger question arose, “How much trouble am I in with Mom?” That last question
was the one that bothered me most!” They sat me down and asked me my name,
where I lived, and where my Mom was when I last saw her. I was able to give
them my name, but the other questions were as much a mystery to me as to the
inquisitors.
Suddenly from the corner of my eye, I saw a sales lady leading another
lady. It was my Mom! I was found. Now I was sure the scolding would come
swiftly and sternly. Instead, she ran to me, scooped me up in her arms, and
hugged the life out of me! She thanked everyone for their help, got a firm grip
on my hand, and out the door we headed toward the subway. She seemed relieved,
not mad. Her silence was killing me. I could take a tongue lashing, but the
pain I had caused her broke my heart. Even the snow flurries falling outside
did not brighten my troubled spirit.
I have often thought at Christmas time about the way God’s love sent his
son, Jesus, to look for his lost children. Afterall, that is why Jesus came at
Christmas. Jesus said, “The Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which
was lost” (Luke 19:10). The process started in a manger, finished on a cross
and an empty tomb, and eternally impacts those he came to find. Jesus dealt
with lost children the way my mother dealt with me. Jesus said on another
occasion, “God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but
that the world through Him might be saved” (John3:17).
I was glad my mother found me in that department store. I am eternally
grateful Jesus found me, loved me, and made a way for me, a lost child, to find
my way home to be with Him. Thank God for His search mission of love.
