It was just about midnight on Christmas Eve and everyone was commenting on what a beautiful service it had been – with joyful Christmas carols, the telling of the Christmas story, a wonderful message preached, and the glorious service of candle lighting and the singing of “Silent Night.”

Everyone was happy.

Everyone except Hazel.

I was just a seminary student at the time and I don’t know why she picked me to complain to, but Hazel caught up to me out in the narthex of this big Methodist Church. She got right up in my face and I thought she wanted to give me a big Christmas hug.

Instead, she gave me a big Christmas piece of her mind.

“I want my swaddling cloths back!” Hazel said with great feeling.

I had no idea what Hazel was talking about. I, certainly, had not taken her swaddling cloths, and I could not even remember her ever having any swaddling cloths that might be taken away.

But then, it hit me! Hazel must have been referring to the fact that in the Christmas gospel lesson that night we had used a modern bible translation that changed the traditional words “swaddling cloths” to “bands of cloth.”

“Bands of cloth?” Hazel mused. “What the heck are ‘BANDS OF CLOTH’? And why would you wrap up a baby in ‘BANDS OF CLOTH’?”

And then, taking a deep breath, Hazel began reciting the Christmas story from memory:

“And in that region, there were shepherds in the fields keeping watch over their flocks by night. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared unto them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were sore afraid! But the angel said unto them, “’Fear not! For, behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy that will be to all people, for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign unto you: you will find a babe wrapped in SWADDLING CLOTHS and lying in a manger.’” – Luke 2:8-12

Then Hazel looked at me with a threatening glare and said, “Give me back my swaddling cloths, Mister!” And then she turned on her heel and walked away.

Later, thinking about that encounter with Hazel, I remembered that at the time of the first Christmas swaddling cloths – or swaddling clothes if you’re a fan of the King James – were a square of cloth with two bandages. A baby would be laid diagonally on the cloth, the lower corner pulled up over its feet, the upper corner folded under its head, and then the two side corners pulled firmly together over the baby’s chest and belly. Then, the whole apparatus was fastened together by the strips of bandage. The practice of swaddling babies can be traced all the way back to 4000 BC.

Medical studies today show that swaddled infants sometimes sleep better, they remain on their backs when asleep which is important with little ones, and they may feel more secure. Swaddling, it is believed, may also limit the startle reflex which means mom and dad might get a little more sleep at night.

But maybe the best way to understand the importance of swaddling is to remember those times in our own lives when some form of swaddling has brought us great comfort – like when you were a little kid and not feeling well and your mother picked you up, wrapped you in a blanket, and held you firmly in her arms and rocked you to sleep – or like that time your dad was teaching you to ride a bike, but you crashed, and the next thing you knew, dad was there, holding you tight and telling you it would be okay. There is a kind of bonding that occurs this way. Lives are joined together and we become one.

Swaddling comes to us in many ways – the big group hug of a family welcoming their soldier daughter home from Iraq – the long, intimate embrace of two lovers – even the experience of holding your cat on your lap and stroking its back. You hear the cat start to purr and you feel it kneading your thigh with its sharp claws, and you wonder just who is swaddling who here?

Swaddling is important to us throughout our lives!

When my mother was facing the last times of her life, one of the women in her church knitted her a prayer shawl. It’s simply a shawl that is made with prayer – that is, the person knitting it prays as she knits it, asking for God’s hope, peace, joy and love to rest upon the person who will wear it. That prayer shawl covered my mother when she was on a ventilator in the Critical Care Unit. And it covered her on the last night of her life. When she breathed her last and went home to God, our family swaddled her body tightly in that prayer shawl.

So I’m with Hazel. Let’s hold onto those beautiful words.

“You will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”

And lets hold onto each other!