Christmas 1976

I had barely turned 18 and graduated from high school when we packed the car with all the things a freshman college girl would need. I arrived in Rexburg, Idaho at the end of the summer, just months after the Teton Dam broke and flooded the entire area. The place looked a bit war torn, and most people were left homeless. I remember seeing a piano and other pieces of furniture sitting out in the middle of a potato field. My boyfriend and soon-to-be fiancé at the time was a former Ohio missionary from Rexburg. His home and his father’s taxidermy business were badly damaged, so during the next few months his parents purchased an old church building in St. Anthony to start life over.

I spent a lot of time in that old church. It was quite the novelty to push the door into the "Ladies" restroom and have my pick of any stall, and, with plenty of sinks and mirrors to go around, I had lots of room to set up camp with my makeup and hair supplies.

In the basement, Bruce and his dad were constantly shoveling coal into the furnace. It didn’t help much because the old place was still as cold as perpetual winter. No wonder I was plagued with colds and strep throat that entire semester.

Bruce’s mother cooked all the family meals on a wood burning stove. She had a conventional stove in the kitchen, but still preferred feeding the fire. It was probably the only way she could stay warm! The foyer and bishop’s offices served as a waiting area and offices for their business, while the chapel was converted into a very large living room.

Early that December, Bruce and I decided to drive up into the mountains and find the perfect Christmas tree for the living room. After we found one tall enough, Bruce chopped it down and together we dragged that thing up the mountainside and finally managed to get it into the truck. That huge tree looked amazing in the chapel, all trimmed and lit.

But that tree did not compare to the sight that met my eyes when I returned home to Ohio. I remember I got in late on a cold snowy night. I walked in the door and as I entered each room I noticed that my mother had the entire house lit only by candle light and had dressed everything up for Christmas. The living room, dining room and kitchen were filled with a quiet, peaceful light. And in the family room dad had a fire going in the fireplace. With each candle, the light shone in the darkness—a sight that I will never forget.

I’ve thought a lot about that night and why it has stayed with me all these years. I’ve wondered if the candle light would have been similar to the light in that dark stable where the baby Jesus lay in the manger as the travelers who came to honor him, held their candles close to see His face. All I know is that that Christmas in 1976 felt familiar and warm and wonderful to me and I was grateful to be back home.