Just ten years ago in a small town halfway between Baltimore and Washington, I celebrated Christmas Eve services with my new parish of four months. As you know too well, maintaining these quaint old church buildings can have its own charm and headaches. In the fall of 2001, a plague visited on that little church in Laurel Maryland was a plague of squirrels. In a quaint mill town with lots of century old hardwood trees, a squirrel could find a lot to love. But when the weather turns cold, the little critters first try to find someplace warm to spend the winter. And the Episcopal Church on Main Street with a little hole in one of the ventilators welcomed them. Dozens of them.

A few weeks before Christmas I learned how someone years earlier had tried to save on heating costs by installing a small piece of steel flashing to cover the inside hole from the ventilators at the peak of the roof. It was a high ceiling church like this one. In the middle of the early service Eucharist, the sight of little bits of insulation falling to the center aisle near the back of the church caught my eye. An octogenarian usher thought such stuff should not be left in the aisle so he bent over to pick up the bits of pink insulation. Somewhere around “Do this in memory of me” came the horrible sound and sight of a two foot square piece of steel crashing on its side about a foot from the poor man’s head. The sound was like a marching band cymbal clanging. I really thought we would have several candidates for CPR at that moment.

After church that Sunday the crew came in to green the church in time honored tradition. Laurel was named for the indigenous mountain laurel plants that grow around the area. They are also evergreen, and the plants were woven into sixty foot long strands of green to be hung from each major roof truss. Everything was green and lovely. During the week before Christmas, in my custom to pray in the quiet of the church, I could occasionally hear the sound of the squirrels in the attic. I brought binoculars one day to confirm my worst fears. There was a direct opening through the ventilator shaft from the attic space into the ceiling of the church.

There was not time to bring in the pest exterminators before Christmas. They were all tied up with holiday cheer and much bigger clients. I prayed, I fretted, and I dreaded the possibilities. Imagine a full church on your first Christmas service with them and the cousins of Alvin and the chipmunks poking their heads into the ceiling and saying, “Hey guys, look at the forest in here.” The scene rolled around in my head like a low budget version of Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation.

The blessed hour came with the midnight mass and holiday spirits in fine shape. No visitation of the blessed church rodents. I went home and collapsed, thanking God for the gift of Jesus and for the separation of church and squirrels.

Isn’t that what everybody does around the holidays? We always manage to find something that grabs our attention and we obsess about it. The perfect party. Getting all the right gifts for people. Making sure the cards go out. Getting lights on the tree and around the house. In my case I obsessed over squirrels in the attic.

But take a minute to step back from the holiday trivia and look at the big picture. The unimaginable being who created the universe, set the planets in motion, and who gives life and breath to every living creature. That being chose to become human in the form of a baby. Completely dependent and vulnerable in every way just like any of us. It is scandalous. It is crazy. And it is true.

This unimaginable being whose name we don’t even know wants us to love creation and other people with the same love as we are loved. We are to forgive as we are forgiven. We are given a beautiful life. Every day of our life is a gift from this creator. We honor what we have been given by sharing the love with others. Traditions, religions, creeds, and doctrines will ultimately all fall away before the big picture.

We were known and loved before we were knit in our mother’s womb.

Take a moment to ponder the immense size of the universe and the even greater love that is there for each one of us. Then in another breath consider this all came into focus in the form of a tiny baby long ago in a remote back country village.

It kind of puts squirrels and holiday madness in perspective, doesn’t it?

2002 started off with a bonus for the local critter control company. Before Epiphany they came out and over three days trapped sixty eight squirrels. At $25 apiece, their year was off to a good start.