Perfect Christmas Tree, The - Stories, Poems and Humor



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Bible Reference: Luke - 9:48

The fresh green smell of Christmas filled the house and the sight of the tree took your breath away. Your refection multiplied without end infinitely echoing in the shiny red and gold balls. Striped candy canes were evenly distributed and colorful paper chains draped artfully on the branches. The white silvery winged angel stood at the very top watching over the entire tree. It was a beautiful tree; at least I thought so at first. Morris says I am a fanatic about my trees. I can't help it. It's just my way. It was a lovely tree, from the angel on top to the cr�che my great grandfather made underneath. Great Gram told us he carved it the first year they were married. She loved telling stories of knitting wooly scarves and mittens for presents. They lived on the plains in a small soddy house for their first four years.

When Laura and I were children story telling became a tradition. We put the manger under the tree when the decorating was done and waited for Christmas Eve when Papa read the Bible story. Only then were we ready to put the Baby in the manger. My word, I can't believe how many years ago that was. Laura has eleven grandchildren and we have two. Cindy and Mark, my daughter JoAnne's twins, are 14 years old and live in Kansas City. We'll see them in February, but I do miss them all at Christmas. It seems a shame how families move away, but I am thankful for the telephone calls.

That night I admired the tree critically. 'Morris, don't you think it's a pretty tree?'

My husband looked up from his newspaper and between the notes of 'White Christmas' on the stereo he said, 'Yes, Cora, it's a very nice tree, as always.' That's Morris for you. His enthusiasm is under-whelming. We plugged the lights in when the sun went down and ate turkey sandwiches and cheesecake off of my Christmas china on TV trays. I looked at the tree and couldn't put my finger on why it didn't look�well�quite perfect.

'Cut it out, Cora, you'll make yourself crazy. It's a very nice tree, really. Come on look, it's snowing,' he said leading me to the bay window. I sat down on the sofa next to my husband and picked up the TV Guide. Just as Morris pushed the 'on' button the doorbell rang. The man was covered with the new fallen snow. He was dressed warmly enough but he looked as though he had been outside a long time. 'Please, may I use your telephone?' he asked.

There had been so many warnings about people doing horrible things once they got into someone's house, my first thought was don't let him in.

'I have had car trouble,' he said. 'I had to walk about a mile before I saw your lights in the window. I guess a lot of people aren't home tonight.' He looked so cold and before I could answer Morris led him into the hall and closed the door. He said his family was in the car wrapped in blankets. They were on the way to his mother-in-law's house.

Morris took the stranger back to the car. The young couple and their three children had started out after work and expected to arrive at their destination four hours ago. Thirty minutes after they left Morris and the man were back with the young family. I had perked coffee and made a few sandwiches. Morris wasn't able to get the car started, even with the new jumper cables that were under our tree. I held the front door open and the baby's blanket brushed against the wreath.

The man carried, four-year-old Katherine. She was named after her grandmother. I asked if she was Kathy. 'No, I'm Katherine.' she said.

The little boy was two years older. He held shyly to his father's coat. 'Is this Gramma's?' he asked his mother.

'No, Sweety, this is someone else's gramma.' The young mother's white wool stole slipped from her dark hair. She held the baby in a blue blanket and maybe it was the light reflecting from the ceiling fixture in the hall or maybe it was the special night, but just at that moment she looked like the Madonna. Her big brown eyes were filled with tenderness as she touched the baby. I felt what she felt. I am a mother myself, you know. She smiled at me, like the smile of an innocent angel.

'What a miracle you two are, to take us in.' she said. 'I was afraid something had happened to Kevin.' She laid the baby on my peach brocade sofa. I poured the coffee and served the sandwiches. David, the little boy, and Katherine ate bowls of cereal and marshmallow toast. Then we all went back into the living room with more coffee and cookies. Morris made telephone calls and left messages on answering machines, doubtful that anyone would answer on Christmas Eve.

I poured a cup of coffee for the young mother and asked her name. She smiled that Madonna smile and said. 'Maryann.'

'Let me hold the baby while you drink your coffee.' I said. 'I think I can remember how.'

'Look at the pretty tree, Mama.' the little boy said.

'Yes, it's a pretty tree, honey.' I said, 'Look at the manger. It's a keepsake from my great grandfather. He made it a long time ago.'

'Can I hold the little wooden baby?' he asked.

'No, David, just look at it.' his mother said.

'Of course, you can hold it.' I said. I handed the carved baby Jesus to the little boy. His little fingers felt the smooth wood and he kissed the carving. Then his father gently put the baby back into the manger.

We talked and tried to decide what to do next. Kevin called his mother-in-law. Finally, at 10:00 o'clock the man from John's garage came in his red wrecker truck. Morris and Kevin went with him and twenty minutes later they were back and ready to proceed with their trip.

They all bundled into their warm clothing and Maryann kissed us goodbye. The baby had been sleeping most of the time they were in our home. When she put his blankets around him, she handed him to me. She put the white stole back on her brown hair and I looked at the baby. He opened his eyes and I know he was too young to smile, but I tell you- he did. I will never forget the look on that infant face. Maybe it was the special night or, as I said, maybe the hall light cast a reflection, but in the blanket around the baby's head, a brightness glowed. They started out the door. 'Wait!' I yelled. I put the carved infant Jesus into David's hand. 'I will never forget you.' I said. 'Nor we you,' said the father, 'or your kindness to strangers.'

As they drove out of sight Morris and I came back into the warm room. The Bible was on the coffee table where Morris put it after he had read to me earlier. The draft from the door turned the fine Bible pages. We sat down and glanced at the holy book, 'The Living Bible', Luke 9:48, 'Anyone who takes care of a little child like this is caring for me!' I leaned back into my husband's arms and looked at the tree.

IT WAS A PERFECT CHRISTMAS TREE

Maureen Stirsman has just published, (self-published) a Christmas book of short stories. The three on our site are in it. The name of the book is, 'Once Upon a Night in December'. The last chapter of the book was written by her husband, Tom, "The Ultimate Gift of God." It is the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, whom Christmas is about. "The Paper Route" is, incidently a true story about her husband when he was a boy.

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