Willa isn’t scared of much. Things happen to her, around her, near her, because of her, and she doesn’t blink an eye. More often than not in our house, we find the younger comforting the older.

We only knew this Willa until the fireworks started earlier in the month. The first illegal explosions rumbling through our house had her sitting straight up off the toddler-sized mattress screaming one long, ear-piercing scream. Ray immediately sat up and mirrored her tiny sister’s reaction, just louder. We ran in the room to find two girls staring at each other screaming, one with purpose, the other just because apparently it was screaming time.

The Madang Music Festival has been in full swing all week just across the street from us in the soccer field. It’s been mostly frustrating with bands blasting everything from Christmas music to traditional PNG music to American rock songs. Sometimes the house bumps and shakes with the effort of their speakers. Sometimes we can only hear muffled talking. Always there is the sea of umbrellas as people listen intently to what’s happening on the stage while the sun beats down on the field. It started inauspiciously for us at 11:45pm Sunday night. We were enjoying the silence we’ve gotten used to. The kind that’s interwoven with the sounds of bats screeching or cars speeding. Then our ears were accosted by soul jarring rock music that vibrated every piece of our house. Eventually Brian put in earplugs while I went to the girls room where it was a bit softer. We were sure we wouldn’t be able to hear them through the noise if they woke up frightened.

All the frustrating bits of this festival aside, Wednesday night the girls were blessed to witness their first real fireworks show courtesy of the politician sponsoring the festival. We heard him give a rousing speech, but we only started paying close attention when we heard statements like, “This will be the biggest fireworks display Madang has ever seen!” …wait, what???… “Get your cameras or your cell phones because this will be amazing! We have professionals here to show you what fireworks can do!!” …ummmm , really?!?… “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4” …hurry and get the girls, get the girls!!!

Since Willa has been struggling so much with the fireworks, I thought this would be a perfect time to show her what those loud noises do. I ran back to their room to collect them around “4” and found it to be a fairly easy task considering they were already busily occupying themselves with eluding sleep. We ran down the hallway where Daddy had already opened the front door, and all squished on the small square concrete that is our front stoop. The show was more than promised. For ten minutes we watched grand finale after grand finale. I don’t get emotionally charged by fireworks, but this one was breathtaking.

It was relieving to be able to point and say, “When you hear the loud bangs, this is what they produce. Isn’t it beautiful?” Ray was mostly sold. Willa was skeptical. She cheered, but her heart wasn’t in it. After the show, we shuffled back into the house and tucked them in bed all over again, hoping to still get in our little bowls of ice cream before we went to sleep.

As I settled them back down and tried to sneak out of the room quickly, Ray stopped me to process her general feelings about the experience. She loooooves the fireworks. They put stars in the sky. But she’s scared. I sighed, let the ice cream dream slip out of my mind for the moment, and got down with her to talk.

“When I was a little girl, I got scared of the loud noises the fireworks make too. But then I got bigger, and I learned there was nothing to be afraid of. They are big noises that make beautiful flowers in the sky.”

“Flowers? No, stars. They make stars.”

“Yes, okay. They make stars.”

“Your Daddy hold you tight too? Like my Daddy?”

“Yes, he did. Your Poppie is my Daddy. And he held me tight and told me why I shouldn’t be afraid.”

She processed some more and started talking through other issues she was having, clearly hoping I would camp out for some time. As I was figuring out how to best encourage her to settle down alone, someone shot off an illegal firework nearby. Willa was content on her mattress, but before the crackle left our ears she had rolled straight onto the floor and glued every piece of her body to my body, quivering. Immediately Ray leaned over and wrapped both arms around Willa, touching her soft cheek to Willa’s chubby cheek. She pulled back a little to stroke her sister’s hair and encourage her. I could hear what she said as she “whispered” into Willa’s ear.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid because I’m here. Jesus will take care of you. God is bigger and you don’t need to be afraid.” She paused for a second and then continued, “When I was a little girl, I was afraid of fireworks too. But then I got big and learned they aren’t scary.”

Christmas has started to mean two things for our family. The first is all about celebration, love, God’s grace, and the specialness that is this time of year. The other is the imminent arrival of our Branch’s annual meeting. It’s a tough time for Brian particularly, but for all of us generally. He is preoccupied and concerned, but we try to balance the two sides of this time of year well. That balance between focusing on Christmas and family while preparing for what is ahead is sometimes hard to find. It has become the time of year when all four of us need to come around each other and whisper, “When I was a little girl, I was afraid too. But then I got big. Don’t be afraid because I’m here and God is here.” We will all help Willa face the fireworks. We will all help Ray face the night. We will all help Mommy face Pre-K homeschooling. We will all help Daddy face the meeting. And we’ll do it by reminding one another that God is bigger.