The Gift of Christmas
The snowstorm had ended and Sherry Listrum watched a goldfinch peck its way through the banked up snow on the feeder, finally reaching a coveted seed. The little fellow was the only thing moving on this still morning. The bird flitted to a leafless maple that wore a fine coat of snow and nibbled at the found treasure.
What a gift one little sunflower seed could be on this frigid morning. Sherry placed her forehead on the picture window and laid a hand over her growing womb, knowing she held a precious seed of her own to love – one that had been nurtured for four months already.
She glanced at the sky which was a mixture of cumulous clouds and blue sky beauty with no hint of impending snow. She smiled at the friendly atmosphere.
Her parents had objected to her spending Christmas at the log cabin alone, saying the side roads in Michigan weren’t going to be plowed as quickly this year because of lack of funding, but Sherry had wanted to spend this holiday with her unborn baby where she had last seen her husband and where her precious joy was conceived.
A hollow sound beat in her heart as she chewed her lower lip. Four months had gone by with not one word. Was her husband dead or alive? No one knew what had happened to him. David had gone trolling for salmon on Lake Huron at sunrise one golden summer day and his small vessel and he had disappeared as if he had wandered into the Bermuda Triangle. Massive search efforts by the Coast Guard and locals had revealed nothing. Every heartbroken day that had passed by since then had made the mystery seem less likely to come to a happy ending.
The woodstove metal expanded with the heat of the fire, making a loud noise, and Sherry jumped. She had been on nerve the last few months and the coming of Christmas Eve when her family all gathered for the holidays loomed closer. She would miss it. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the palm of her hands, trying to squeeze the rest of the teardrops back. The empty chair at the poinsettia decorated table would hurt too much. Sherry couldn’t face that and didn’t want to ruin everyone’s Christmas with her depressive mood.
“Make sure to drive home for Christmas Eve weather permitting,” her father had said, his eyes beseeching and hurting from her loss as he loaded her suitcase into the jeep. “You haven’t missed that service once in all your twenty-five years. Remember when you were one of those children reciting the birth of Jesus in front of the church? I will never forget how you were the loudest.”
“Oh, Dad, “ Sherry had blushed. “The other kids didn’t know their lines and they grabbed a word or two from my lead. I wasn’t that loud.”
“You were enthused about the baby Jesus,” her mother chimed in, handing her a box of homemade Christmas cookies. “Remember when you grabbed the babe from the manger to hold him and everyone thought he was stolen.”
Her father chuckled. “The elders were mortified at having a Christmas Eve service with an empty manger.”
“You insisted on playing Mary before you would lay baby Jesus back in the manger. And you were only six.”
Both parents laughed at her willfulness but a hint of embarrassment flushed their cheeks. They had a daughter they couldn’t control back then. Sherry was born having her own mind.
And there she was saying no to them once more about spending Christmas with them.
She had climbed into the open door and slid behind the wheel, placing the iced sugar cookies, on the seat next to her. “I’ll think about church,” she said, gripping the wheel tight, “but I don’t think I’ll celebrate Christmas at your house this year. I just can’t.”
Her mom leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Do what you must,” she said, “but come back home if a snowstorm is forecasted. I don’t want you in the boonies pregnant and stranded.” She kissed Sherry on the cheek. “Make sure to eat right.”
“I’m not a two-year-old, Mom,” Sherry had said. “I know how to care for myself and the cabin is well-stocked.”
But the truth was, she had eaten very little for the last week. Had concentrated on dairy products for the baby, but hadn’t had one decent meal.
Why did the holidays have to come to those who are hurting and can’t celebrate? Didn’t God know how painful it was to watch people laughing and joking while the black of night had settled into one’s brain? A dark shadow that veiled away any good thoughts at all and made a joke of living.
“There’s always hope,” Pastor Michaels had comforted her during the first weeks of David’s disappearance, his arm bracing her shoulder.
“I do have hope,” she whispered as she pressed her forehead against a cabin window again, the coolness of the glass helping to numb the grief she felt.
A flock of black-capped chickadees landed in the maple branches where the birdfeeder hung. Sherry flew to the cabin door and opened it, letting in the chickadee’s song and their chorus perked up her spirits. The cold winter air filled her lungs and renewed her as she admired the diamonds of gleaming snow. She buttoned up her cardigan. The chickadees sounded much better than the ticking clock on the mantel that was endless.
“Life is out there,” she whispered. “Look how the birds feed even when they have to dig through the snow to find the seed. They’re determined cute buggers.” She threw on her down jacket and warm woolen mittens. Dipping her hands in the enormous sunflower seed bag, she scooped up a handful and held them cupped in her hand.
“Chick-a-dee-dee-dee,” she called as she trudged through the snow in her high top sneakers. She offered the tiny birds the seed by stretching her hands out before her and standing still as a statue.
Soon the chickadees swept by her cautiously, their tiny wings sounding like the fluffing of a pillow close to her ears.
But they were too afraid of her and kept landing at the feeder, then winging off.
“Chick-a-dee-dee-dee,” she crooned softly. “I won’t hurt you; come and get some seed.” Her fingers grew cold and numb and she imagined how red they must look. It was hard standing still in the snow, not batting an eyelash, in case it frightened the tiny birds off.
Then one whisked by her head and landed on the tip of her glove. The fluffy bird nervously picked up a seed and headed into the birch tree nearby. “You’re brave,” she said, chuckling and she was delighted that other birds soon followed suit. How great it was to hold God’s tiny nature in her hands. How fragile these white and gray ball of feathers looked, but how tough to survive a Michigan winter.
All of a sudden a bubble moved within her womb. The doctor had said that would be a good sign. The baby had moved. It was a fleeting feeling but a definite fluttery existence.
Excited, she threw the sunflower seeds into the air and danced around in a circle. “ I have another life inside of me!” she hollered. “And I’m responsible for it just like God feeds these birds.”
Suddenly it wasn’t a Christmas where David’s empty chair loomed in front of her, but a celebration feast where a high chair would soon stand.
Sherry’s stomach growled and the birds disappeared into the trees.
“I must feed my baby,” she said, and couldn’t stomp the snow off her shoes fast enough to open the refrigerator and pull out a T-bone steak. “I must treat her like she is already here. She’s depending on me!”
“She?” Sherry said aloud, wondering if she were having a premonition. She had decided not to know the sex of the baby until it was born.
The Christmas cookie box was unopened and next to the milk. She touched the cardboard cover, knowing her mother’s loving fingerprints were on it.
After she ate, she would close up the cabin and head back home to help her mom with the Christmas baking. She would leave the bag of sunflower seed at the nearest neighbors, knowing they also fed the birds.
Suddenly Sherry had so much to do. She wanted her baby to experience Christmas before she was born. She would tell her about Dancer and Prancer and Donner and Vixen. She would let her unborn child hear the pre-schoolers sing “Away in the Manger”. And she would tell her she mustn’t steal baby Jesus from the manger.
Sherry had no idea if she would ever see her husband again, but his genes were alive with the tiny heartbeat that kept her warm inside. And she would wait for him. There still was hope. Of course there was.
***
The candles had been lit on the altar and the lights dimmed as the children’s processional began. Each carried a glowing candle of their own. Their steps were cautious so the flame wouldn’t blow out and wax wouldn’t drip onto their velvet dresses or suits.
“That first child is Ginny’s,” her mother whispered to her as they sat in a middle pew. “Remember your friend from school? She’s moved back to town. Her husband passed away from a heart attack.”
“Wow, her daughter looks like an angel,” Sherry said, gulping at the thought of having to raise a child on her own. What a responsibility. Was she ready for this? Panic gripped her heart but her mother patted her hand reassuringly.
After the children sang “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem”, they sat down, and the lights brightened, making Sherry wince. As the bell choir began playing Sherry glanced around at the townspeople and visitors who occupied the pews, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ginny. Her eyes scanned one side of the church and then she caught a movement at the doors, which were to her left.
She saw a man standing there in the shadows, leaning against the door jamb. He shuffled his feet and looked nervous. Sherry blinked twice because she found herself wishing it were David finding his way home at last.
If not for that beard… it could be David. She craned her neck to see better. The body structure was right. He was also glancing around the church.
Their eyes met.
“David!” Sherry said out loud, over the sounds of the bells ringing “Silent Night”, as she disrupted the church service. She stood up on weak knees and her father, who sat next to her, raised from his seat to brace her.
Her mother’s head swiveled to the door and she also stood up.
“I think it is David,” she said, her whisper excited. “But he looks very confused.”
The baby leaped for joy in her womb and Sherry made her way down the aisle with her parents. An usher was attending to David by the time they reached them.
The church service stopped but then the organist began playing, the soothing music piping around them.
“For some reason I think I should be here,” David said to the usher. “But I don’t know why.”
“Do you need medical attention?” the usher asked, his eyebrows knitted together as he surveyed David’s faded and well-worn jeans and flannel shirt.
As Sherry approached the stranger, her heart played a tattoo. “David, you’ve come back to me,” Sherry said, reaching her arms toward him, thanking God for answering her prayers.
Stepping backwards, David said. “Do I know you?”
Sherry’s eyes widened in disbelief as her heart fell to her feet.
“He must have had an accident,” Sherry’s father said, giving her a hug of reassurance. “He’s lost his memory.”
“But I know I should be here now and at this time,” David said. “I knew it the minute I heard the church bells calling everyone to the service. I had answered those bells before.”
“Praise the Lord, “ Miriam said. “Let’s sit down and thank God for David’s appearance here tonight. We can talk later.”
“Yes, I need to hear the children,” David said. “That’s why I came.” He stepped into the chapel.
“Trust me, “ Sherry said, and took his arm. “And come home to have a Christmas Eve meal with us. You look hungry.” His face was drawn and thin and he had lost a lot of weight.
“Okay,” David said and nodded. “I’ll figure out what to do next later.”
As they sat down in the pew together, the first pre-schoolers were ushered to the front of the church with their Sunday school teacher to recite the memorized Bible passages. At the gray - haired lady’s prompt, they began in unison in front of the microphone. “In THOSE days Ceasar AUGustus issued a DEcree,” in their singsong fashion.
“Such big words for such little blessings,” David whispered and chuckled in her ear.
Sherry nodded and smiled. David had said that to her before. Everything was going to turn out okay.
The End. I hope you enjoyed my Christmas short fiction story. God bless you!!!
Hugs, JJ
