It all started as a joke–a joke of which my husband did not approve. David and I were Christmas shopping in the hill country town of Fredericksburg the weekend after Thanksgiving. It was in a little novelty/toy shop that I spotted the Pink Velvet Jesus. He stood about a foot high, and his purpose was to give anybody who shook him up and then turned him upside down the answer to any question. I was charmed. I recalled the old “eight ball” fortune telling toy of my childhood. I shook the ball, turned it over, and there was the answer as to whether I was going to pass my geometry test, or if the boy who sat next to me in geometry liked me. The eight ball knew all.
And here I was, some forty years later, with an opportunity to get my answers from something far more impressive than a magic eight ball—I could ask the Pink Velvet Jesus. As I dug out my debit card and David rolled his eyes, I knew just the person who would want this Jesus for Christmas. Our 27-year-old son at age 17 had stopped believing in Jesus. He now hung out with atheists, attended the Dallas Fellowship of Free Thought, and refers to himself as an agnostic. He is a good boy. He works hard as a package handler at UPS, and has participated in a number of very “Presbyterian-like” ministry activities (although he does not call them that) in his new-found spiritual community.
Christmas Day came and we had our usual wild house of adult children and grandchildren and dogs. Our family draws names at Thanksgiving, and it is great fun after Christmas dinner to see who your secret Santa is. I had not drawn our son’s name, but as his mommy, I still put something in his Christmas stocking every year. This year his stocking was bursting with the Pink Velvet Jesus. Needless to say, it was the most popular gift in our house that day. We all shook Jesus and asked him a question, turned him upside down and found our answer on the bottom of his feet. The answers were partly serious, such as “Pray harder” or “This is not righteous!” Others made us laugh, such as: “I died for this????” or “Don’t know, but I will ask my Father.”
Finally, everybody either left or went to bed, and it was only my son and me, picking up wrapping paper in the livingroom. We sat down on the couch and stared at the Pink Velvet Jesus standing in the middle of the coffee table. My son picked Jesus up and I urged him to ask him at least one more question before we called it a day. He shook Jesus hard and said: “Ok, Jesus, anything else you want to tell me about my life?” He then turned Jesus upside down and we both eagerly read the response….”I love you.” We were stunned. Perhaps someone else had seen that response, but all day long neither of us had. We both became quiet for a few brief seconds and my son hurriedly tucked Jesus under his arm and mumbled something about being tired and needing to get to bed.
“Good night” I said to him as he headed up the stairs. As for me, my heart filled with a gratitude I could not explain as I watched my son go. And through eyes which on rare occasions we are given by the Holy Spirit that we might see more clearly, I swear I saw the Pink Velvet Jesus wink.