Lori Wick Short Stories, Christmas Special Page 2

  “We did it. We’re in Disneyland on Christmas Day.”

  Stan chuckled. “That we did. What do you want to ride first?”

  “Thunder Mountain Railroad,” she said without hesitation.

  “And second?”

  Ellen didn’t know. She was too excited to think beyond that. Every time they visited the Magic Kingdom, they ate breakfast in a restaurant that served early birds before the main street opened. That’s where they were now: eating alone in Disneyland, no children for the first time, and on Christmas Day.

  “We’ll have to bring Ethan with us sometime, but I’m so glad we’re here alone,” Ellen confided.

  “Me too,” Stan agreed before leaning toward her to share a pancake-syrup kiss.

  Watching them from two tables away, a very young couple looked at each other and smiled.

  “Do you think they’re honeymooners like we are?” the young woman asked.

  “Too old,” the young man proclaimed.

  “I don’t know.” She was clearly skeptical as she watched Ellen’s adoring eyes on Stan. “They act like honeymooners.” She turned back to her new husband. “Are you still going to kiss me when we’re that old?”

  The man’s eyes twinkled. “What do you think?”

  The two shared another smile, and both glanced back at the other table. The main street to Disneyland had been open for about ten minutes, but the man and woman with the graying hair were still sitting very close, noses nearly touching, and talking as though they had all the time in the world.

  A Note from Lori: I wrote this story not long after I lost my father and wept buckets in the process, but it’s really not about my parents. Much as I love the holidays in snowy Wisconsin, someday I would love for Bob and me to flaunt convention and run away to Disneyland on Christmas Day. And who knows? Maybe someday we’ll do just that.

  The Christmas Gift

  “Why do you seek the living One among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen.”

  Luke 24:5,6

  Snow drifted past the kitchen window in a timely fashion, putting a clean dusting of powder on the previously fallen inches. There was no wind this December morning, and the large flakes dropped so straight to the ground that it looked as if someone had plumbed a line between the sky and earth.

  Maggie Hartman came into the kitchen that moment and took a second to watch her foster daughter, who stood motionless at the window. Brenda stood with her nose pressed to the glass, anxiously watching the figure at work on the brick walkway, a snow shovel in his hands.

  Brenda’s mouse brown hair hung in a perfect line down to her slim shoulders. Maggie didn’t need to see Brenda’s tiny ears in order to picture the large hearing aids that rested in each. She also knew that if the little ten-year-old girl turned around, she would regard her out of eyes covered with bottle-thick lenses.

  “I don’t think we’re going to go,” the little girl finally said, having known Maggie was there all along.

  “You’ll go,” Maggie said soothingly and moved farther into the room. “It’s not supposed to snow that long, and Gary left the truck for you and Mark.”

  Maggie smiled to herself when she heard Brenda sigh. She could well remember the disappointments over the years when outings were canceled because of the weather, but it was different for Brenda. Brenda’s entire life had been a disappointment, making something as simple as a canceled shopping trip more than a little upsetting.

  Maggie had just poured herself a cup of coffee when her 23-year-old son, Mark, came in the back door.

  “Well, the walk is clear, but I’m not sure how long it will last.”

  “Thank you, Mark. At least if the women come soon enough they can get in for Bible study.”

  “Are you ready to go, Brenda?” Mark wanted to know.

  “We’re still going to shop?” She regarded her large foster brother with anxious eyes.

  “Of course. The roads don’t look bad at all. Get your things, and we’ll get out of here.”

  Brenda took time to smile hugely at Maggie before running for the back hall that held her coat, hat, and mittens.

  It was now Maggie’s turn to stand at the window as she watched the dark blue truck move down the street. Brenda had originally come home with Gary in that very truck. In Gary’s line of work as a social worker it would have been easy to bring a different child home each night. Maggie knew if she’d been in his place, the house would be full of these abused and abandoned children. But early on they had set up a policy, and Gary had never brought anyone home. Until Brenda.

  When she arrived at the house in May, she weighed 42 pounds. Maggie had never seen such an emaciated child. Brenda’s first nine and a half years of life had been spent with an often drunk, abusive father—one who hadn’t bothered to feed her very often. Prior to coming to live with them, Brenda had never been to school, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Her eyes had been so severely damaged by the abuse that she couldn’t have read a book if she’d tried. And that wasn’t all. She could barely hear Gary and Maggie before the aids were purchased.

  The summer was more than half over before all the doctor appointments ended and a judge ruled that Brenda was to live with Gary and Maggie for the time being. Maggie recalled that day as one of the happiest of her life. She had not been able to have children after Mark was born, and it mattered not in the least that this child was not of her body. It didn’t even matter that it might be temporary. For the time being Brenda was theirs, and Maggie was going to make the best of it.

  Standing at the window, she now prayed, asking God with all her heart to bless Mark and Brenda that day. She couldn’t say what exactly she was hoping for, but she asked for a blessing anyway, content to leave Brenda and Mark in God’s hands.

  The occupants of the truck were fairly quiet as they made their way to the shopping mall. Brenda was tightly belted in, her eyes on the road, and her small 101 Dalmatians purse held closely in her hand. Mark glanced at her from time to time, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “I have only six dollars,” she told Mark for the second time.

  “All right. Do you want to get something on your own or share a gift with me?”

  “You would let me share a gift with you?” she said with some wonder.

  “Of course. That’s what big brothers are for.”

  Brenda didn’t speak. She was not so young that she didn’t know the truth. She would have given anything if Gary, Maggie, and Mark were her real family, but it simply wasn’t so. And now that she could hear better, she understood that it was just a matter of time before she would be placed in permanent foster care.

  Brenda didn’t want such thoughts to ruin her time with Mark, so she made herself focus on other things, and they were parked and walking inside before she knew it.

  “I think the bookstore first. Mom said Dad spotted a book on trains he’d like to have.”

  Brenda nodded and walked carefully beside him. The mall was noisy, and she was a little afraid of getting lost. Mark noticed her discomfort and would have gladly taken her hand, but he wasn’t sure if she would welcome this. Brenda had come to live with his parents just two weeks after he’d left to take a job in Europe. He hadn’t met her before five days ago and was still working at gauging what her facial expressions meant. He decided against taking her hand, but whenever they moved through a large crowd, his hand rested lightly on her shoulder.

  Only 20 minutes passed before they were finishing up at the bookstore. They were at the checkout counter when Brenda said, “Here’s my money.”

  “Well,” Mark said, “since you have six dollars, why don’t you just give me half of it?”

  Brenda looked uncertain, but Mark counted out three of the bills and watched as she carefully tucked the others away.

  Once out in the mall again Mark said, “Now Dad said something about a sweater for Mom.”

  “The pink one?”

  “You know about the sweater?” Mark asked with surprised pleasu
re.

  “I think so. She’s looked at one in Crandell’s three times.”

  “Let’s go,” Mark told her, and off they went. This time Brenda did tuck her hand into Mark’s, and in record time they had made their purchases and headed to the food court for lunch. Mark had said a prayer for their meal, but even after he’d lifted his hamburger, Brenda sat still.

  “What is it, Brenda? Don’t you like burgers and fries?”

  She stared at him for a moment and then asked quietly, “The sweater was more money than the book, wasn’t it?”

  Mark set his food aside. “Yes, it was, but that’s not important because we’re getting both of them what they want.”

  “I know, but I only gave you three dollars. Maybe you should tell Maggie that I only bought three dollars of her sweater.”

  “Now that’s not a bad idea,” Mark said with an exaggerated expression, eyes wide while one hand stroked his chin. “I’ll put on the card that you bought the little pink buttons and the collar. What do you think?”

  Brenda caught his teasing and smiled. She reached for a french fry, and for a time they ate in silence. Mark wanted to get to know her better, and after a moment asked gently, “How do you like living with Dad and Mom?”

  “I like it. They’re nice.”

  “They like you too.”

  Brenda didn’t smile or reply.

  “What did I say that’s making you look worried?”

  Brenda gave a little shrug. “I was just wondering where I’ll live next.”

  “Would you like to go back with your dad?”

  Brenda shook her head no, her eyes very serious behind her thick glasses. “He didn’t like me, and I never got to go to school.”

  “What do you like most about school?”

  “The Bible stories.”

  Mark nodded with satisfaction. He knew his parents had debated long and hard about where to send Brenda to school. Mark looked forward to telling them that the Christian school had been the best choice.

  “Do you have a favorite Bible character?”

  “Daniel,” she told him without hesitation. “He wasn’t afraid.”

  “Do you get scared at times?”

  Brenda nodded. “I try not to, but I do. Maggie tells me to trust in God, but I’m not sure I can do that. If I could just see Him and talk to Him I might, but I keep thinking He’s going to be like my father.”

  Mark nodded, his heart breaking a little. “I can see why you’d feel that way. I’ve thought a lot about God over the years. Shall I tell you what I think of Him?”

  Brenda nodded, her mouth full.

  “I think He is like a father, my father.”

  Brenda’s french fry stopped halfway to her mouth as she stared at her lunch companion. Gary Hartman was the most wonderful person Brenda had ever known. He was strong and kind, and his eyes always smiled as they looked at her. She never thought that God might be like him. That would be wonderful, but could it be true?

  “Did I upset you, Brenda?” Mark asked gently.

  “No,” she said, but her voice was low. She went on to eat, but her face looked troubled. Again Mark wished he knew her better.

  “Have you made any friends at school?”

  “Yes. I play with Tara sometimes. She lives pretty close.”

  “Tara Nolan?”

  “Yes. I like her, but her family is around a lot, and sometimes I get a little nervous.”

  “What makes you nervous?”

  “Her brothers are all pretty big.”

  “I’m big,” Mark tried to reason with her.

  “You’re different.”

  Her face turned pink on these words, and Mark knew it was time for a change in subject. They talked about the plans to be alone on Christmas Eve, for the service at church, and their gift opening. The whole family would join them on Christmas day.

  “You’ll get to play with Johanna,” Mark told her, and this brought a full smile to her face. Johanna was Mark’s young cousin, and even though they lived a few hours apart, according to his mother’s letters, the little girls were ecstatic whenever they saw each other.

  When their trash had been thrown away, the two shoppers browsed through the mall, covering every inch of the Disney Store, and then made their way back to the truck. The snow had let up some, and the ride home was quiet. The two of them sequestered themselves in Mark’s bedroom in order to wrap the gifts and then snuck into the family room to put them under the tree. Mark then made his way to the kitchen in search of something warm to drink, but Brenda lingered by the tree as she often did.

  Set in the center, the gifts pushed off to one side, was a nativity set. Maggie had the wise men off to one side because she said they’d just started their journey and weren’t there the night the Savior was born, but the shepherds were close, and so was a tiny black lamb, two white ones, and a donkey. Brenda knelt down now and picked up the tiny manger with the Christ child lying on the bed of straw. Questions raced through her mind, but no answers followed.

  “Brenda,” Maggie called from the kitchen. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

  “Coming,” the little girl called and carefully replaced the manger. She stood and stared down at the scene for a few more minutes and, turning, she walked slowly toward the kitchen.

  “You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Gary commented as he handed a dripping plate to Brenda.

  “I’m just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “About God.”

  Gary stopped what he was doing. He let the next dish slide back beneath the suds and laid the dishcloth on the edge of the sink. He then turned, leaned against the counter, and looked at Brenda.

  “And what did you decide?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about God until I moved here, and then Maggie talked about Him like He was a father, and I thought He must be like my father.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t like it. My father is mean.”

  Gary stared at her, his heart praying. “Has something else happened?”

  “Sort of. Mark said that he thought God was more like you, not like my father.”

  Gary took the plate and towel from her hands and set them aside. He then pulled two chairs from the table, keeping them close. Brenda took a seat, and Gary sat across from her, their knees touching.

  “I have only met your father once, Brenda, so I don’t know him very well, but I do know this—God the Father does not hurt His children; He loves them.”

  Brenda’s look was almost defiant. “But He sent His Son away. He sent Him to earth and then to die.”

  Gary felt himself tremble. He loved this child as though she were his own, and very gently he reached and pulled her into his lap, praying as he did so—begging God, actually—to give him the words.

  “If you could imagine the most wonderful father in the whole wide world, what would he be like?”

  Brenda’s ear lay against his chest, and she spoke with conviction.

  “Well, he would be nice, and he wouldn’t ever hit you when you didn’t do anything wrong or put you in your room and leave you there.”

  “Anything else?”

  Brenda now leaned forward and looked at him.

  “He would take you places and make sure you had toys and clothes and stuff.”

  “What about your safety? Would he see to that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, say there was a car coming down the street that went out of control, and in order to save you, your father would have to die. Is that something a perfect father would do?”

  Brenda bit her lip. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I want you to think about that, honey, because that’s just what God did. In order to save us from our sin, He had to die. God the Son came to earth to be born and then grew to be a man in order to die for us. God’s heaven is perfect, and a sinful man cannot get in on his own. He has to have a Savior.”

  “But it
was so mean to send His Son away,” Brenda tried to reason, and Gary took another tack.

  “Whose house is this, Brenda?”

  “Yours and Maggie’s.”

  “That’s right. Now if someone comes to our front door, should we let him in?”

  “Well, that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what he wants.”

  “So you think that Maggie and I should have the say?”

  “Yes. It’s your house.”

  “That’s right.” Gary’s voice was very gentle now. “And heaven is God’s home. He alone says who has the right to come into His home. Without Jesus Christ none of us could go, but He provided the way by dying on the cross. Did He have fun doing that? No, but God loved us so much that He had to find a way to bring us to Him. That way was Jesus Christ.”

  “How did Jesus feel about it?”

  “Well …” This was a first for Gary so he took a moment to think. “I don’t think He enjoyed it; in fact, I know He didn’t, but He knew there was no other way, so He told His Father in heaven that He would do whatever God asked of Him. And do you know what, Brenda? He didn’t just die for the sins that were committed right then, but for all the sins of all time. That’s why we can come to Christ today, 2000 years later—because He finished the job when He died and rose again on the third day.”

  “What do you mean He rose again?”

  “He arose.”

  Brenda’s brow lowered. She heard that and even sang it at Easter time, but it made no sense at all.

  “I still don’t know what that means.”

  Gary stared at her. How could she have missed that? He must have misunderstood her. “He didn’t stay dead,” Gary told her simply, not sure if this would clear things up. “He arose.”

  “He’s a flower?”

  “No, honey. He came back alive.”

  “But that’s impossible, Gary. Dead is dead.”

  Gary licked his lips. He and Maggie had talked about this. Her teacher at school and at Sunday school had talked about this. How could she have missed the most important event in all of history?