Eph. 2:19–20 19 Now
therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow
citizens with the saints, and of the household of God;
20 And
are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus
Christ himself being the chief corner stone;
Carol: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
Hymn #207
Story: Christmas Eve
BY HELEN H. TRUTTON
It was
Christmas eve. Stars twinkled down from the heavens almost as a halo over the
lighted streets as crowds hurried from store to store in frantic last-minute
shopping efforts.
A chilly
wind of winter, carrying a slight scent of holly and pine, blew boisterously at
times, tilting Nathan Lessen's hat while he walked toward home, arms loaded
with gifts for his grandchildren.
He turned
the corner panting noticeably, and lumbered up the steps of the second house
on the street. The place was dark as usual, only tonight it seemed more so. He
dumped the packages down on the porch while he fumbled in his pocket for the
keys, and unlocked the door. He switched on the light and looked anxiously at
his watch — one hour and a half until plane time.
Nathan's
mood changed for the better. He was going to spend one whole week with his
daughter Christy and his three grandchildren. He could almost hear Janey saying
in her coy way, "Did Santa leave any presents at your house,
Grandpa?" Mike and Terry would be all ears when she asked. He whistled a
jaunty tune as he hurried to the bedroom. Claire's picture on the dresser
smiled up at him when he turned on the light. He smiled back at her. He could
now, ten months after her death. He had schooled himself to think about the
happy years they had spent together, the long quiet evenings they had enjoyed,
sometimes talking, sometimes just content being together. He thought, too,
about the years he had spent as a young marriage counselor, of Claire's faith
in him, and her willingness to face hardships. Finally he turned from the
photograph, pulled a suitcase from the closet, unwrapped his packages, including
a long-haired blond doll for Janey. From another box, he removed a Santa suit,
and gently folded it around the doll.
He had
barely finished packing when the phone rang. His first inclination was to let
it ring in case some client was trying to locate him. Then it occurred to him
that no one would call on Christmas Eve. It must be Christy. He picked up the
receiver and said, "Hello."
"Mr.
Lessen?" he heard a low whisper.
"Yes.
Who is this?"
"I — I
hate to bother you," the voice seemed far away.
"This
is Lessen," he said gruffly. "What — ?"
"Mrs.
Donaldson. I'm sorry — but — "
Mrs.
Donaldson? Sure, he remembered her; she was a client of several months back,
married to a rather irresponsible chap. She was a lovely person. He remembered
suggesting that her husband needed to see a medical doctor. Why would she be
calling him? "I'm sorry, Mrs. Donaldson, I'm in a bit of a hurry; I have a
plane to catch."
"I
don't know what to do," she sobbed. "My — little girl. She's
ill."
"Then
call a doctor." He was losing patience.
"Please
don't hang up," she pleaded. "You said if ever I needed you —" '
Nathan
sighed. He probably had said that. He felt sorry for the family, but he didn't
suppose she ever would really call on him.
"What
can I do?" he asked, trying to hide his impatience.
"She —
Lory — is crying for Seth, her father. He's gone."
"Where?"
Nathan asked.
"He's
probably just walking. I don't know when he'll be home. Maybe not tonight, and
it's Christmas Eve. Lory may not be here for the next one." Her voice was
pleading.
"I'll
do my best," he said, glancing down at his watch. "But my plane
leaves in about an hour."
A talkative
cab driver picked him up ten minutes later. They drove up one street, down
another, searching, with no results. It was thirty minutes now until plane
time. There was nothing left to do but go by and tell Mrs. Donaldson her
husband was not on the streets. Then he would leave town and forget other
people's troubles.
He almost
ran up the stairs of the old apartment house a few minutes later and knocked on
the door of Mrs. Donaldson's apartment. A frail blond woman of about twenty-two
opened the door. "Did you find him?" she cried.
"No.
Why did he leave tonight — on Christmas Eve?"
She wiped a
tear from her cheek. "He said he couldn't stand to see her so ill. But
she's better now."
"Why
isn't she in a hospital?" Nathan asked.
"The
doctor said she'd be happier home with us over Christmas. Oh, Mr. Lessen — I —
"
"I'm
sorry, Mrs. Donaldson," he said half apologetically. "I must catch
my plane." And he whirled around to descend the steps. He stopped suddenly
when he heard a pitiful cry coming from the bedroom. "Daddy!" He
looked at the young mother.
The cry came
again. This time Nathan moved up one step, then brushed past the tearful woman
and disappeared into the bedroom. Tiptoeing quietly over to the bed, he bent
down in the semi-darkened room, and asked tenderly, "How are you,
Lory?"
"Daddy,
you came," she breathed.
"Of
course, baby," he said. "Now you rest."
"Daddy,
has Santa come yet?"
Nathan
looked at Mrs. Donaldson. She shook her head. 'Not yet," he said.
"But he will. What do you want?"
She waited a
long time to answer. "A doll with curls like Mommy's," she whispered.
"Well,
you just go back to sleep, sweetheart, and Santa will be here."
"Wake
me up when he comes," she said, sleepily.
"God
bless you," the young mother said as he passed her. "Now you must
hurry to your plane."
He looked
back a moment at the pale little figure lying on the bed. "I have a Santa
suit," he said hoarsely.
"Your
plane, you'll miss it."
He was
halfway down the first flight of stairs before he stopped to answer. His
reddish face, still flushed from the climb up, broke into an agreeable smile.
"It's in my bag," he called back to her.
When he
returned to the apartment, dressed in his Santa garb, Mrs. Donaldson seemed not
to notice him. She was kneeling by the table, her head bowed. He crept
reverently past her into the child's room, and whispered softly as he bent over
her, "Darling, Santa is here."
To his
amazement, the child's eyes flew open. "Where?" she asked feebly.
Nathan
leaned down again. "Well, well, young lady," he said in a deep voice.
"Have you been a good girl?"
She smiled
slightly. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
"Then I
have a doll for you," he said. He placed the doll he had purchased for
Janey on the bed beside Lory. "You like her?"
The girl's
face broke into a happy smile. "She's the most beautiful doll," she
cried with new strength. After a moment, she half smiled again. "Can I
touch your whiskers, Santa Claus?"
"You
barely have time to catch your plane," Mrs. Donaldson spoke softly from the
door. "Please — "
Nathan
straightened up. If he missed that plane, he'd have to spend the night alone at
his apartment — alone on Christmas Eve. He'd never spent Christmas Eve without
his family. He couldn't now.
"May
I?" the tiny voice asked again.
Nathan
looked at Mrs. Donaldson, then back down at Lory. Then he bent down again and
said kindly, "Of course you can, Lory." With effort she lifted her
hand to his face, "Thank you, Santa," she sighed. "I love you,
and my doll."
"You be
well by next Christmas, do you hear?" he said, moving toward the door.
"I'll have to go now. It's a busy night, you know."
"Can I
kiss you good-bye till next time?" she pleaded.
Nathan
smiled. "Why, yes, Lory," he said, bending down again over the tiny
figure. "Now my dollie," she said.
"Naturally
we couldn't forget her," he laughed. Janey had so much, she would never
miss the doll he had bought for her. He was glad he had given it to Lory.
"I must
go now," he said, hurrying to the door, and to Mrs. Donaldson he said,
"May I use your phone? Perhaps the plane is late."
"I'll
never forgive myself if I have caused you to miss it."
Nathan
smiled at her. "I'm glad you called, Mrs. Donaldson. Service to others was
one of the great messages of the One whose birthday we are commemorating. I'm
sorry I couldn't do more."
He dialed
the airport's number and asked if flight 689 had departed. The man who answered
hesitated several moments, then asked, "Did you have passage on that
flight?”
"Yes,
and I was wondering if it might be late."
There was
another pause, then the man on the other end of the line said, "Yes, it
has departed, but there has been an accident."
"An
accident?" Nathan caught his breath.
"We've
had no report on how serious it is yet," the man said. "I can't tell
you more." He hung up.
Nathan
looked about him. Mrs. Donaldson had returned to her child's side. He tried to
stand, but his legs buckled under him, his throat felt parched. Finally, he
pulled himself up, and slowly made his way toward the stairs. Mrs. Donaldson
called after him. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes,"
he said.
"God
bless you, Mr. Lessen. Have a happy Christmas with your family," her voice
sang out. "You've cheered Lory so much."
He stood
outside looking up at the starry sky for a long time. He must hurry home and
call Christy. There was a train he could take at midnight.
From Sunshine Magazine
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