Christmas Miracle Disguised

     She caressed the sparkling beads close to her heart as silent tears trickled down her cheeks. Missy sighed, “Why, why couldn’t my hopes and prayers been answered?” As she stroked the wondrous beads, she remembered her excitement the first time she saw them in the store window glistening brighter than the twinkling Christmas lights.

     Trudging through the blustering, wintry assault on her walk home from school, the blinking panes beckoned her to peek. The exquisite beads instantly captivated her. She imagined momma’s face on Christmas morning as she unwrapped the glorious necklace, joyously modeling it. Momma, who worked long hours at the diner to provide their meager existence, was always thrilled years past with Missy’s homemade Christmas creations. Her paper cup vase was inhabited by a bouquet of dried wildflowers on the kitchen table, her butterfly clothespin peg flaunted momma’s prized recipes, and her cardboard picture frame proudly displayed a treasured, handsome photo of papa taken just weeks before the accident that summoned him home to God. Missy promised herself this year momma would be unwrapping these resplendent beads. She would hoard her lunch money and ferret the sidewalks for coins until she had the $14.95 jingling in the pockets of her worn coat stuffed safely beneath frayed mittens.

     Everyday, Missy stopped by the magical window to admire the stringed baubles. Occasionally, she would wander into the store to run her fingers through them under the scrutiny of Miss Waltmon, the scowling proprietor, who through beady eyes routinely observed her daily ritual.

     And, every night Missy would pray and hope. Pray to afford this magnificent gift for momma. Hope to discover a gleaming nickel or dime on the snow packed sidewalks on her walk home from school. Pray for her very own miracle.

     Being Christmas Eve, Missy knew the store would soon be closing the glitter of this Christmas season. Her hope of surprising momma with this splendid present faded. She blinked hard to curb the trail of tears as she tenderly placed the beads back in their honored pose in the window. As she turned to walk away from her dream, Miss Waltmon flittered past her. “Probably going to count each bead to make sure I didn’t remove any,” Missy thought bleakly. As she rounded a counter heading towards the door, Miss Waltmon bumped into her nearly knocking her off her feet. The curmudgeonly proprietor managed to utter a blunt “excuse me” as she grabbed Missy by the coat until they both caught their balance again.

     Outside the door, as Missy reached into her pocket for her mittens, she felt it. Without looking, she knew without a doubt what her fingers had entangled. She spent hours fondling and knew every trace of that illustrious necklace. Her heart skipped as she cringed and waited for Miss Waltmon to come screeching through the door, “Stop, shoplifter. Stop, thief.” She rallied the courage to peep through the shop window but couldn’t spy the gruff, dwarfish woman. Her next notion was to run, run fast with this prize buried in her pocket. Then Missy thought of momma and knew she would never be able to present her with this purloined Christmas treasure.

     Hesitantly, she opened the door and approached the crusty little woman. “Excuse me, ma’am," Missy stuttered. “I, I discovered these beautiful beads in my pocket. I honestly don’t know how they got there. Much as I wanted them for momma, I could never sneak them," she pleaded. Raising an eyebrow, Miss Waltmon thrust her hand into Missy’s coat pocket. “She doesn’t believe me and is looking for more evidence," Missy piteously thought. It was at that moment, Missy witnessed her Christmas miracle…as the sweetest, most angelic smile adorned Miss Waltmon’s face. “Why, little miss, I have no idea what you are babbling about. The sales receipt is right here in your pocket," she sang.

     As Missy waltzed out into the wintry evening, she reached her hands into her pockets to gather thread barren mittens, only to discover a new pair of warm, fur trimmed mittens with the sales receipt tucked lovingly inside.

     And Missy realized, miracles are best not answered as prayed…but left for God to perform in His infinite wisdom.

By Kathleen

© Copyright 2002

Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus

By Kathleen

© Copyright 2002

Our Gift

The Hesitant Christmas Angel

It was Christmas Eve morning. The sun reflecting on the fresh carpet of snow outside cast a glorious brilliance throughout the family room. Anne bounced onto the sofa, as she sighed with relief. She closed her eyes in satisfaction, pondering the month of shopping, weeks of decorating and wrapping, and days of baking. A faint smell of gingerbread still lingered throughout the house. Anne mentally sifted through the pile of exquisitely trimmed gifts beneath the tree. One last count to make sure she hadn't forgotten to wrap a tucked-away purchase.

She admired her decorating skills shamelessly. The 9-foot tree, adorned in gold and red ornaments, twinkled with lights dancing on its boughs. Glass icicles mirrored each twinkle's spectrum. The porcelain angel posed atop the tree reached out her arms encompassing the season's splendor. Garland draped over the fireplace, reflecting the glittering lights, seemed to resemble that star-studded night so long ago. It sparkled over the centered, bare stable guarding the Christ Child, with Mary and Joseph hovering over our Miracle. Across the mantle, three Wisemen and hoards of adoring animals seemed to wait their turn to adore the Promised One.

Anne chuckled now, recalling the battles she fought at the toy store the day after Thanksgiving for those certain treasures sure to elicit squeals of delight from her children. The most coveted toys topping many a peer’s Christmas lists were hidden deep in her and Michael’s closet. The twin baby dolls that five-year old Jeanie had scribbled at the top of her list plus the remote control car and Lego set that seven-year old Jacob hastily added to his were safely tucked away. These were the most envied toys, advertised every 10-15 minutes during early Saturday morning and mid-afternoon weekday cartoons. From there, she had worked down the children’s lists, until the budget ran out. She promised herself that before next Christmas, she would discover a better hiding place for Santa’s surprises, just in case two little ones became overly curious.

Anne thought to herself how blessed she was: the perfect husband, two wonderful children, and tonight a gathering of family and friends that would fill the house with laughter and love. Then attending the ceremonious midnight mass to rejoice and praise the newborn King.

Christmas was Anne’s favorite day of the year, despite her struggles to stash a little money away each month throughout the year to pattern traditions and memories her family would cherish forever. Since the children were still quite young, she always took time to inspire them to create original gifts to present to dad and each other. Anne was sure Michael would treasure the picture puzzle that she helped Jeanie and Jacob design. Carefully, they each took turns cutting out a piece of the most recent family picture she had adhered to cardboard. Perhaps it wouldn’t fit together as perfectly as her family, but the gaps would be filled with love, as she envisioned her, Michael and the children spending wintry evenings reassembling the happy smiles captured in the photograph. Anne knew Jeanie would adore the paper doll family, complete with wardrobe and accessories that Jacob had lovingly drawn and cut out for her. And, that Jacob would challenge them all repeatedly to a game of checkers on the slightly crooked game board with food-colored green and red cotton ball game pieces, Jeanie had constructed for him. She wondered with anticipation what special keepsake Michael and the children had created for her.

Anne sighed again and closed her eyes. Despite all her planning, she suddenly felt a surge of gnawing emptiness. She bolted upright on the couch, her eyes widening, as the feeling of contentment seeped from her. That man…that man hovering on the corner of the mall parking lot holding up the sign. She tried hard to push the vision out of her mind, but she couldn’t. She recalled the scrawled words, “Will work for food for my children, Holly and Chad". She remembered the pictures posted on the sign. Sitting at the stoplight squinting, she had realized the pictures of those two beautiful faces were about the same ages as her own Jeanie and Jacob. Anne tried again to brush his memory aside; telling herself it was just a scam. She recalled the article she had read in the newspaper that some of these scam artists made a decent living from their pitiful signs. Yet, she remembered the pride in this man’s twinkling, yet desperate, eyes. Reflecting a few more moments, Anne suddenly found herself edging towards the closet door. Fondling the wrapped gifts meant to bring smiles to her own little one’s faces Christmas morning, she firmly grasped one of the wrapped dolls, the remote control car, and the pair of leather gloves she had chosen for Michael, shoving them into a shopping bag. Next, she raced to the kitchen, packing containers of ham, brisket, potatoes, rolls, candies and cookies. Her heart fluttered as she prayed she wasn’t too late to catch the man on the corner. If it were a scam, she’d never know for sure. Even if the man sold the gifts and food for a few dollars to support an awful habit…well, he’d have a Merry Christmas, right? Hurriedly, she threw the shopping bag into the car and drove to the corner of the mall. Crouched behind his sign to block the frigid winds, the man peeked out as she parked and approached him. Anne hastily placed her gifts on the frozen concrete, whispered ‘Merry Christmas’ and hurried back to the safety of her vehicle. Glancing in her rear view mirror before driving away, she swore she saw tears glistening on the man’s cheeks.

Christmas morning arrived much too early after the celebration with family and friends the night before. Jeanie and Jacob bounced on the edge of her and Michael’s bed gleefully shouting that Santa had come, and erasing any thoughts of even a second’s more slumber.

After shredding the colorful paper off gifts, the children settled quietly, playing with their new wealth of toys. Although both had expressed a mild disappointment that Santa had forgotten a toy at the top of each of their lists, the smiles on their innocent faces revealed delight.

As Michael stuffed the discarded wrappings into a trash bag and Anne began breakfast, the doorbell rang, startling the household. They glanced at each other, wondering who could be interrupting their Christmas morning. Before they could stop her, Jeanie opened the front door. Huddled on the doorstep were the man on the corner and two wide-eyed children, tightly clutching their new Christmas toys. He waved his leather-gloved hand at Anne, grinning from ear to ear. “Excuse me, ma’am, but me and the young ones just had to drop by to thank you.” Anne gasped; then was finally able to mutter, "How did you know where I lived?" “Well, ma’am, I was able to get your license plate number and pleaded with my brother-in-law, a police officer in a neighboring town, to run the plates. Now, I know it wasn’t right, and you could get him fired, or worse, but I just had to thank you. Tom and my sister, Sue, do all they can to help me out, but they have seven little ones of their own. I explained to him that you were my Christmas Angel, and I really needed to thank you. He understood and was willing to take the risk for a Christmas Angel, ma’am. That being said, we’ll wish you a Merry Christmas and let you all get back to your celebrating.”

Before they could leave, Jeanie slipped out onto the doorstep, whispering to the little girl clutching the doll, "Santa brought the sister doll to me. Can you come in to play?" The man on the corner smiled, then grabbed his children’s hands and began to stroll away. Anne looked at Michael, who winked knowing without a spoken word what she intended to do. “Please, mister, please come in and join us for breakfast?" He hesitated, then overwhelmed by Anne’s warm smile, ushered his young family into the welcoming home. Over breakfast the man, Mr. Bolin, told his woeful tale of losing his wife the past year, and then his job a few months later. Michael listened, then grinned and cheerfully asked if he would be interested in a job opening at his company? Mr. Bolin grinned back and enthusiastically nodded his head up and down, his eyes growing damp.

Later Christmas day, after Mr. Bolin and his children left for their last few nights at the mission, with the promise of a new job, Jeanie tugged at Anne’s shirttail. “Momma, I’m glad that Santa gave my doll’s sister to Holly…now, she’s kind of like family!” Tears welling in her eyes, she leaned down to place a tender kiss on Jeanie’s forehead, whispering, “Yes, sweetheart, they are kind of like family now.” Anne glanced at the angel atop the Christmas tree, with her arms opened wide, and felt a warm tingle embrace her. She had taken a chance, and opened her arms to the man on the corner. Anne knew they would be forever blessed with an extended family.