The Best Christmas Ever                                                                              December 17, 2019

 

The Christmas following Danny Frank’s death would be sad instead of joyful.

 

My folks were still grieving. The holidays would reinforce the empty bed, the empty chair, the empty sock hanging by the door and the empty hole in our hearts.

 

Plus all the funeral expenses had used up what little money we had so there was none left for gifts. Friends, fellow students, and church members had shared love gifts which quickly disappeared in the necessities. 

 

“I wish we could spend Christmas with mother,” my Mom longingly said one evening.

 

An additional pain went through Pop’s heart. Mom’s pain only increased his pain. He studied their financial condition to determine the possibility of a trip across Arkansas for Christmas with Mom’s folks. It didn’t look very good at all. 

 

“I know you need to spend time with them. Maybe we’ll figure it out somehow.” he promised. In that promise, he thought the only hope was prayer for a miracle. That night as they had their prayer time Pop asked the Lord, “Jesus, if it is your will and anyway possible, let us visit our folks for Christmas.

 

As the day approached, there had been no miracle so it looked less and less hopeful. 

 

Just before the school break, a widow lady from our church knocked on our door. After the greetings, she surprised my folks by saying, “God told me to give you this $20 bill so you can go home for Christmas.”

 

Mom’s heart jumped at the possible miracle. It would be gas money for the trip she so desired.

 

Pop, being the concerned pastor, thought it was too much of a sacrifice for the lady. She lived alone. Her income from taking in washing and ironing was barely enough to cover her rent. She had nothing to spare. Twenty dollars was a large amount to her and now she wanted to give it away. 

 

“We can’t accept that,” my dad protested. “That’s too much and you need it.”

 

She carefully explained once again that she was only doing what God had said to do. Then she added, “I’ve been putting a little money aside each week for when my son comes home for Christmas. I’ve saved $20 so we could have a good Christmas with presents and a great meal. In his last letter he told me the officer had denied the request for leave. He won’t be coming home for Christmas.” She paused to gain control of her voice. “I was heartbroken. Then God told me what to do.”

 

“I’m so sorry he won’t be coming home. I know how disappointed you are.” Pop sympathized. Mom moved over to give her a hug.

 

“So, you see. You have to take it.”

 

Trying to be compassionate, Pop proposed. “I’ll accept it as a loan if you’ll let me repay it.”

 

“It is a gift. You don’t have to pay it back. It is what God told me to do. You’re not going to block my blessing are you?”

 

“No,” conceded Pop, “but I’ll return it over the few months ahead. Okay?”

 

“If that’s the only way you’ll accept it, then that’s okay. But remember, you don’t have to repay it.” she responded.

 

Laughing, Pop said, “Okay. I’ll accept it before I make you mad at me.”

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After she left, Mom and Pop hugged and laughed and started making plans for the Christmas trip.

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As it happened, it was going to be more of a blessed trip. 

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Mom’s kid brother, Uncle Paul, lived with his family on the same street as Grandma. It was exciting to think that we’d see Uncle

Paul and Aunt Pennie. For me the excitement was being with their four daughters, Norma Jean, Sue, Freida and Jackie, and their son, Sonny Boy. (Actually, Paul, Jr. but no one ever called him that until he was grown.) I knew we always played games together and had truckloads of fun.

 

Uncle Bill and Aunt Eula, Mom’s older sister, and their son, Kenneth, lived in Michigan. They had arranged for time off to travel to Arkansas for Christmas at Grandma’s home. Kenneth was the oldest of our cousins so I looked up to him. I began to think of some of the activities we might do together.

 

At the last minute we found out that my Uncle Jack, Mom’s oldest brother, who also lived in Michigan was going to take time off from his service station he owned and be there for Christmas. He was short and round with a reddish complexion. His deep voice carried throughout the house as he talked, laughed and sang. He always paid attention to us kids and often had gifts for us. I could hardly wait.

 

We arrived amid hugs, tears, laughs, and lots of talk.

 

Pop’s parents lived only five miles away so Pop made a quick trip to bring them to Grandma’s house. 

 

All seventeen seemed to be busy. We kids helped cut the tree and put decorations on it, including paper chains and pop-corn garlands. Gifts thoughtfully chosen ahead of time needed wrapping. Cake batter was stirred by hand following Grandma’s receipt of “a pinch of this and a dash of that.” Pies were placed in the window to cool offering a great temptation to us kids. Fudge was sliced into large blocks but we grabbed the little end pieces. The white divinity candy with pecans on top lived up to its name. The smell of bread baking in the wood stove filled the house. Soon other aromas joined in as more and more food was prepared. 

 

Leaving the women to finish with kitchen work, the guys gathered around to share tales. 

 

Jerry and I joined in games with our cousins. We paired off for games of checkers and gathered as a group for Chinese checkers. We enjoyed some games of tag outside until it got too cold. Dominoes were brought out but it was more fun to line them up and knock them down than to play a game. 

 

Soon it was Christmas Eve. Everyone had gathered around the tree. 

 

Uncle Jack said, “Russell, you can share with us the Christmas story.”

 

Pop opened his old black Bible and turned in its worn pages to Luke 2, and began reading. “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.” He paused for a moment then continued reading. Soon he was at the part we wanted to hear. “And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”

 

After another pause, he read in a little deeper voice, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” 

 

As he continued we pictured the sheep, the angels, the donkey, the manger, Mary and Joseph. We could almost hear the angels singing. 

 

Uncle Jack had picked up his guitar, and began to sing, “Joy to the world, the Lord has come.” Everyone joined in to form a beautiful choir. Someone started another carol. 

 

Songs, joy and love overflowed among the whole family. 

 

We wanted to stay up all night but, someone started “Silent Night” which seemed to signal the close of the spontaneous Christmas program. So we were sent to a bedroom where some plied into the bed and others were on pallets, We laughed, talked, played until sleep slowly overtook each of us.

 

We awoke to the smell of turkey roasting in the oven. We quickly and loudly jumped out of bed to discover what Santa had brought us. There under the tree were gifts with tags from Santa so we’d know which were ours. Mine was a set of little actual bricks that had a little bump on top and an indention on the bottom so I could build houses, bridges, forts, and creations of my imagination. (This was well before Legos but the same principle.) Then we opened our gifts from one another. Most were home made and brought extra joy. We laughed and played until Grandma called us to dinner. 

 

The turkey was in the center of the table with a big ham beside it. We stood as Pop gave a prayer of thanksgiving for Jesus’ love and sacrifice. Then he thanked God that the family could gather together for the wonderful meal and the joy of being together. 

 

Grandma lived up to her cooking reputation with the others delivering their specialities. Trying to taste everything assured over indulgence. The women cleaned up while the men talked and slowly fainted into naps. We kids continued with the toys and activities we had started in the morning. 

 

As the sunset, we returned to the delicious leftovers. Then we gathered around the piano. As Mom played, Pop with his tenor voice and Uncle Jack with his deep base led us in singing carols and hymns. 

 

Of course, the evening would not have been complete without Uncle Jack getting out his guitar and singing his laughing song, “Oh, I’ve always got tickles stored way down in my heart. Oh, something is always bound to tickle me. I’ve been tickled by an undershirt. I’ve been tickled by a wasp. I’ve been tickled by a great big bumble bee.” Then he would start laughing, carrying the melody in the laugh, his belly shaking as he laughed and sang to the close, “Oh, something always bound to tickle me.” By then we were all laughing and dancing around on the floor.

 

A couple of days later, after hugs, tears and goodbyes, the four of us loaded into the black Chevy. Uncle Jack walked up to Pop’s open window and said, “Here. I want to help out on your trip” and put something in Pop’s hand.

 

Pop, without looking at the gift, replied, “You don’t have to do that.” 

 

“I know,” retorted my always generous uncle. “I want to. After all, you’ve got to take care of my baby sister.”

 

“I guess I earn it then,” he laughingly commented as Uncle Jack patted him on the arm and Mom poked him in the ribs.

 

As we pulled out of Peach Orchard onto the paved highway, Pop handed the wadded up gift to Mom. She unfolded it to see it was a $20 bill. “We can pay her back.” they promised amid thankful tears.

 

Arriving back in Malvern, Mom and Dad visited the widow lady, to thank her and to share with her how joyful she had made our Christmas. Pop pulled out the still creased $20 bill and said, “I’m paying off the loan you made because God has provided more.”

 

“Get out of here, Russell Duffer!” she exclaimed. “Before I beat you to death with my broom. Let me tell you what God did for me. My son was not going to be able to come home for Christmas,” she reminded. “Two days before Christmas, his commanding officer called him in and said, ‘Don’t you live at Malvern, Arkansas?’”

 

“‘Yes, Sir!’ my son replied.’”

 

“‘Well, my folks live in Hot Springs. I am going there for Christmas. I will go right through Malvern on the way. I need someone to drive me. You can spend Christmas with your mom and I’ll pick you up and you can drive me back. Is that okay?’”

 

“So Christmas Eve Day, I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, there stood my son. You may have heard me shout all the way to Peach Orchard!”

 

“Now you and your Mrs. take that $20 and get out of here, before I snach you bald. This was the best Christmas ever.”

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I don’t know what my folks did with the $20 but I know it had been the best Christmas ever for us also.

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Luke 2:13-14 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.