|
Like many children, I yearned for an old-fashioned storybook
Christmas. While every child has a different idea of that
holiday, mine was comprised of fuzzy notions of snow, huge
Christmas trees in warm, two-story Victorian houses, sleigh
rides, colorful presents with large bows, iced cookies, and
other Christmas goodies. It also included children, many
children, to play with during the day and a gathering in
which "the welkin rang"--whatever a welkin was.
My mom and dad were wonderful about preparations for
Christmas, and our holiday time was very special. The day
itself was usually celebrated at a large family gathering at
one of the relatives. The year we were to go to one of my
well-to-do Aunt's, I was less than enchanted. They lived in
a gentile apartment in a ritzy neighborhood in
accommodations that were as large as a small house. There
were four such small "houses" in their apartment building,
but the whole notion gave me the presentiment of crowded,
hot, boring, and long.
After a too-big dinner, as the only child in the family, I
was more or less relegated to a back room where I was dozing
off when I heard one of my Aunt's say, "Where's
Mary-Ellen?" I was summoned to the front door where, Susan,
the girl from the apartment upstairs stood wondering if
there was a child who would like to come upstairs to play
games. My mouth dropped open. I could not believe my good
fortune.
And play we did - in one of the most special days of my
childhood. I was introduced to her pretty, gentle mother
and her younger brother, John. Her father was away in the
army. Susan, John, and I played board games and pretend
games and even hide n' seek, making use of the huge closets
and nooks in the large apartment.
When we needed a rest, her mother had us come to the kitchen
where we were served hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows. A
large tray of the most beautiful cookies I had ever seen was
placed on the kitchen table, and we were allowed to choose
two. The sugar cookies were decorated with red and green
icing; the peanut butter cookies had chocolate kisses at the
center; the molasses cookies were bright with sugared
cherries in the middle; and the chocolate chip variety had
tiny pieces of pecan and white chocolate along with the
usual chips. After wrestling with my decision, I finally
chose a sugar and a molasses cookie. We made the cookies
last as long as possible, drinking down the cooling cocoa as
if kids in a dream.
I dimly knew even then, that this afternoon was the mother's
gift of love to her lonely children, and I will always be
thankful that I was on my best behavior. I even sang songs
so that "the welkin would ring." When we left the cozy
kitchen, we circled around the old piano and sang Christmas
carols while their mom played wonderful arrangements, with
"fancy stuff" (embellishments) included. We smiled and sang
for all we were worth.
Soon my mom was at the door to collect me to start home.
Reluctant to leave, I thanked them all and hugged Susan,
giving "manly" John a friendly pat. Susan's mother gave me
a small pouch of cookies and candies to take with me. Then
we were out in the old black Plymouth riding in the dark and
falling snow. I smiled with glowing pleasure as I sat
quietly in the back seat savoring the day the Lord had sent
just for me -- my storybook Christmas. I knew I would
remember Susan and John, and their gentle mother for so long
as I celebrated Christmas...and even beyond.
(c)2004 Mary-Ellen Grisham
meginrose@charter.net
Mary-Ellen Grisham is a Christian writer living in Godfrey,
Illinois. Widely published on the Internet, Mary-Ellen has
recently authored two books, EARTH TONES and GRACE NOTES,
either of which may be obtained through the author. She is
the Editor of Eternal Ink, a Christian ezine newsletter that
appears twice a month.
www.eternal_ink.com |
