“Well, it’s gotta come off. All of it.”

My son looked resolved as he climbed into the car following practice. He understood his locks would probably have to come off if he intended to stay on the high school team, and a nod from the coach confirmed his suspicion.

We would not be going home just yet. The barber would be our next stop, instead. So we detoured into town and handed over the cash. I watched as weeks of growth landed on the floor and ears I had not seen in ages reappeared on the side of Dan’s face.

So did the tiny chicken pox scar only I would notice and memories of watching a very little boy grow ill — exactly 11 years ago this week.

The adventure began so quietly I wondered how many days the virus had been working undetected. But it was during bath time, back in 1995, that I had first noticed some bright red bumps at the nape of his neck. Alarmed, I sought the expertise of my husband.

“Looks like bubbles are forming,” he commented.

The moment our speculations reached the big sisters, the adventure began in earnest. They peeked. Analyzed. Scanned their own arms for old scars. Told exaggerated tales of itching. Hugged their little brother and offered him their sincere sympathies.

And there sat the little man of the hour, perched on the edge of the bathroom counter, looking slightly bewildered and annoyed with all the hubbub.

I made a list and swung into my act. There were friends to warn and school teachers to alert. Calamine lotion was quickly purchased, along with Q-tip swabs. We watched and waited.

Overnight it hit. The fever and the spots … oh, the spots. There was hardly a clear patch of skin to kiss. And the most important things to a guy the age of 4 — like hugging your parents, rolling cars across the floor and sitting on a lap to read a story — become challenging activities when itchy spots invade nearly every part of your body.

On the other hand, having chicken pox can be fun. Especially when your best friend surprises you with a Mickey Mouse popsicle, your doctor friend makes a house call and brings you a bath additive that smells like the oatmeal you ate for breakfast, and the neighbor kids make you a card and bring a toy to help you pass the time.

Never did I realize how unifying, in a funny sort of way, chicken pox can be. Why, I heard more pox stories that week 11 years ago than I could ever have imagined. Although a few lucky souls escape the experience, most of us dot calamine sometime in our lives and hope that pox on our cheek will not leave a scar.

I felt sorry for my little guy that week, but feeling feverish and itchy became a manageable and completely momentary obstacle in his young life. He doesn’t even care that there remains a pox mark on the side of his face to serve as a silent reminder of the event. But I remember that experience. I also distinctly recall sitting on the edge of his bed, praying that the chicken pox episode and all the others I knew would come his way would adequately prepare him for adulthood. That his life experiences would develop the character, strength, knowledge, confidence — and most of all the faith — for him to live life not as a victim but as a victor. No matter what came his way.

May we never be so smug, insensitive, or downright ignorant to think that faith will exempt us from painful and difficult situations. That somehow if we give enough away or talk the talk, God will reward us with wealth and good fortune —because we somehow deserve it.

What distinguishes people of true faith is their ability to incorporate God’s gifts (like prayer, hope, trust, courage) into every situation, knowing that it will be hard work but we will survive, grow, and eventually serve others by passing along the biggest message of all: God’s love can be experienced in all situations, no matter how painful or difficult.

As we pull caps over newly exposed ears to stay warm, bring down from the attic our holiday finery, wrap gifts, and cook those special dishes reserved for this time of year, let us also focus on the story of Christmas — the story of God’s great gift— with a new curiosity and a new vigor. How does this ancient story apply to us in 2006? How will an old story change our tomorrows when we may not be able to hold our children in our arms and make everything all right today? How do we approach this holiday season with any kind of enthusiasm if 2006 has been filled with desperate sorrow or experiences much tougher than a bout with chicken pox?

Let’s consider these questions next week.