To All People - Part 3

 Happy Christmas Eve!

    Here's the final part of the Christmas play story. I hope you enjoy it. The final line was from the one who played Tiny. He just said it on our last practice and we loved it so much we told him to say it for the performance. He did and the laughter from the audience was great!

To All People - Part 3

            Before the sun was fully up on Christmas Morning, Tiny came into town with a beautiful Christmas tree. Mrs. Crawford and Kate brought strands of popped corn, and Mr. Kockenbrock arrived with a star he had fashioned out of wood. Deputy Moreland and his wife appeared bringing some cookies to hang on the tree. And then, one by one, the other town-folk arrived.

            Sheriff Kassen opened his Bible and began to read. “And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.” He handed the Bible to Mrs. Stokes.

            “And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.” As she read, Mrs. Nelson handed Baby to Kate, and with Charlie standing with a stick in his hand as Joseph, they presented a lovely picture of that first Christmas. “And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” She handed the Bible to Mrs. Crawford.

            “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.” With a smile at Tiny, she handed the Bible to him.

            “And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” Wiping away a tear, the rough looking mountain man passed the Book to Mrs. Moreland.

            “And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

            Deputy Moreland took the Bible and finished the story. “And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.” Gently he closed the Book.

            For a moment no one moved. Then Tiny said slowly, “I thank ya folks fer lettin’ me be a part a this here Christmas service. I ain’t celebrated Christmas with other folks for nigh on to twenty years, an’ its done my heart right good ta do it this year.”

            “We’re glad you came and joined us,” Mrs. Crawford said.

            Mrs. Nelson took back her baby, and Kate rejoined her mother.

            Sheriff Kassen held out his hand to the man who had been a stranger. “Many of us had doubts about you, but our Lord offered His salvation to everyone, and we are not above our Lord. You are welcome to join us any Christmas.”

            Mr. Kockenbrock nodded. “Merry Christmas, everyone! Mrs. Fisher, will you have those flapjacks soon?”

            With a smile, Mrs. Fisher nodded. “How about right now and everyone is invited.”

            There were many smiles and Christmas greetings as the town folk began to make their way toward the boarding house taking time to stop and greet the mountain man who was no longer someone to be afraid of.

            As Tiny shook hands with Mr. Kockenbrock, he tipped his head and asked, “What’s a flapjack?”

 

And there you are.

Did you enjoy it?

Maybe I'll share a few other short stories soon.

Once I wrote and shared at KDWC.

To All People - Part 2

 Hello again!

    Here's the next part of the Christmas story I wrote for the church play. Enjoy!

To All People - Part 2

That evening the town-folk gathered around the sheriff with questions about the man.

            Lifting his hands, Sheriff Kassen quieted everyone. “Hold it! Just listen a minute. I wasn’t able to find out anything about that man. He didn’t leave tracks enough to follow. That could mean he’s just a mountain man who knows how to move without being followed, or–” He let his sentence hang unfinished in the air.

            Some of the women moved closer together.

            “Since most of our men are off getting supplies for the town, I think it would be best if we joined forces during the nights so that none of you ladies are alone without protection in case of . . . well, just in case. Mrs. Nelson, you stay with Deputy Moreland and his wife. Mrs. Fisher, do you have room in your boarding house for myself, Mrs. Stokes and Charlie, Mrs. Crawford and Miss Kate?”

            “Of course!”

            “Sheriff,” Mrs. Crawford protested. “I really think we are letting our imaginations run away with us. The man might just be looking to spend Christmas with someone, and–”

            “Or” Sheriff Kassen interrupted, “he might be the leader of a gang of outlaws I’ve heard about who come into town on Christmas Day and rob it.”

            Many of the ladies gasped.

            “Wherever did you hear that?” Mrs. Crawford asked.

            “Newspaper. Back east. Now as I was saying–”

            “Well, Sheriff,” Kockenbrock remarked, “tomorrow ain’t Christmas.”

            With a thoughtful frown, the sheriff stroked his mustache. “True,” he admitted at last. “If any of you ladies wish to remain in your own homes tonight, you may do so, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

            As Mrs. Crawford and her daughter walked away to their own home, Kate asked, “Mama, are you sure it’s safe to stay home alone?”

            “We won’t be alone, Kate,” Mrs. Crawford said, putting an arm around her daughter. “Remember, our Heavenly Father has promised to never leave us nor forsake us. Besides, I don’t think that man would have said he had come down for Christmas if he was an outlaw, do you?”

 

*

 

            The sun rose in a clear sky, offering hope and joy for Christmas Eve day, but Sheriff Kassen didn’t notice. He stood on the street with one hand on his six-shooter and a stern look on his face.

            “Mornin’, Sheriff!” Deputy Moreland greeted him as he strolled up. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

            The sheriff grunted what might have been “good morning” or might have been something else.

            Deputy Moreland went on. “All was quiet last night like Mrs. Crawford thought. How’d you sleep?”

            “I didn’t,” Sheriff Kassen growled. “I found the man’s campsite and kept watch.”

            “What did you find out?

            A cheery whistle sounded before the sheriff could reply, and Mr. Kockenbrock strolled by, pausing to remark, “Mrs. Fisher said she’d make flapjacks tomorrow! Nothing like flapjacks on Christmas morning.” Giving a sigh that changed to a whistle, the man wandered off.

            Deputy Moreland turned back to the sheriff, “And you found out what?”

            Sheriff Kassen opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted again. This time by Mrs. Crawford and Kate.

            “Good morning, Sheriff, Deputy Moreland. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

            “It sure is,” Deputy Moreland said, nodding with a smile.

            “Oh, Deputy Moreland, do you know if your wife still wants that sugar? And Sheriff, do you think we could ask Mr. Kockenbrock about getting a Christmas tree this year, or were you or Deputy Moreland planning on getting one?”

            “Mrs. Crawford, please!” Sheriff Kassen exclaimed. “We have a situation on our hands. Now is not the time to be thinking about things like Christmas trees!”

            “What situation is that, Sheriff? Tomorrow is Christmas, you remember.”

            “Of course I do, but that man is still around!”

            Kate turned to her mother. “Mama, do you think he’d like some cookies too?”

            “I’m sure he would, Kate.” Mrs. Crawford turned to the sheriff. “Do you know where he stayed? Perhaps Kate and I could–”

            “Ma’am, this is a highly sensitive situation. It would be best if you left all things regarding this stranger in the hands of the law.”

            Mrs. Crawford smiled sweetly. “I’m not trying to do your job for you, Sheriff, but just remember that the angels did announce good tidings of great joy to all people. Come along, Kate, I see Mrs. Stokes. Perhaps she has come for those buttons.”

            With a nod to the sheriff and his deputy, Mrs. Crawford and her daughter hurried away to the store.

            Deputy Moreland turned once more to the sheriff. “DID you find anything out?”

            “Nothing much. He kept his fire going all night.”

            “It was cold out last night.”

            The sheriff grunted.

            Just then the mountain man appeared in the streets.

            “We could be in for trouble,” Sheriff Kassen muttered to his deputy. “Keep your eyes open.”

            “Yes, sir.” Then, with a sigh, Deputy Moreland pushed back his hat and scratched his head.

 

*

 

            “I tell you,” Mrs. Stokes exclaimed, “I hardly slept a wink last night!”

            “Me either,” Mrs. Fisher agreed.

            The little general store had once again become the meeting place for the women of Western, and there they gathered to compare thoughts and voice their opinions of the stranger who had arrived.

            “I don’t think my husband was worried,” Mrs. Moreland said, “I could hear him snoring in the front room. Of course he wakes right up if so much as the cat enters the room, but still–” She shook her head.

            Mrs. Nelson said nothing but shifted her baby and patted his back.

            Mrs. Stokes spoke again. “I think something should be done. The man is obviously not to be trusted, and I’m sure I won’t have a moment’s rest until he is gone.”

            “Now really,” Mrs. Crawford began.

            “I agree,” Mrs. Moreland said, “we don’t want an outlaw lurking around our town during Christmas.”

            “Perhaps we can get Sheriff Kassen to–” Mrs. Fisher broke off as the stranger appeared in the street before the store.

            He paused, hesitated, and then walked to the door, opened it and stepped inside. As though parted by an invisible force, the ladies moved to either side of the store and almost held their breath.

            “Good morning,” Mrs. Crawford greeted the man with a smile. “Merry Christmas Eve. What can I get for you today?”

            “Cinnamon sticks.”

            “Of course. How many would you like?”

            “Jest two. Ain’t had none fer nigh on seven years.”

            Mrs. Crawford pulled out the spicy rolls of cinnamon bark. “What brings you to our little town?”

            “Christmas.” The man paid for his cinnamon.

            “How nice.”

            The man nodded then coughed a little and shifted.

            “Is there something else I can help you with?” Mrs. Crawford inquired.

            “I reckon maybe. Do ya folks have yer Christmas readin’ this evenin’ or in the mornin’?”

            “Oh, we have it on Christmas morning. I do hope you plan to be there.” There was no mistaking the earnestness of Mrs. Crawford’s voice.

            “I reckon I will.” Then, without another word, the man turned and left the shop.

            Hardly had he gone when Sheriff Kassen rushed in. “Are you ladies all right? Did he try to steal anything, Mrs. Crawford?”

            “What? Of course not!”

            Mrs. Stokes hurried over. “Sheriff, you must do something and get rid of that man! I’m sure he’s an outlaw!”

            “We heard he killed a few men up in Canada,” Mrs. Fisher put in, “and escaped to these mountains.”

            “And,” Mrs. Moreland added, “he’s the leader of a band of outlaws who have robbed stagecoaches and banks.”

            “Please, Sheriff,” Mrs. Nelson begged, “he frightens me!”

            “I suppose I could tell him he wasn’t welcome here any longer,” Sheriff Kassen began. “But that might make him angry enough to do more than rob us tomorrow.”

            “Sheriff Kassen!” Mrs. Crawford marched around the counter her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you! What proof do any of you have that the man who was just in here is a murderer, thief, outlaw, or has plans to rob us on Christmas morning?”     

            Silence answered her.

            “None of you have any sort of proof. It’s all just wild imaginations, speculations, and prejudice. Why, he as much as said he was planning on coming to the Christmas service in the morning. And didn’t God send His angels to proclaim the good news and the great joy to ALL men when Jesus was born? Didn’t that mean everyone? And didn’t the angels also proclaim peace on earth and good will toward men?”

            “But,” Mrs. Nelson said, “he doesn’t talk like we do.”

            “And he looks dirty,” Mrs. Moreland put in.

            “And he’s so tall,” Mrs. Fisher added.

            “And he has a bad reputation,” Mrs. Stokes reminded them.

            “Does John 3:16 say that God loves those who have good reputations?” Mrs. Crawford shook her head, and her voice grew gentler. “I know he’s different, but don’t you think the shepherds were dirty, and maybe talked differently, or looked differently? Did that stop the good news of our Savior’s birth from being shared with them?” She looked around the store, but no one would meet her eyes. “Kate, mind the store for me a few minutes please.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “Mrs. Crawford,” Sheriff Kassen asked, “where are you going?”

            “To ask Mr. Tiny if he would bring us a Christmas tree to decorate for tomorrow. If I can find him.”

            “He’s right over there, ma’am,” Deputy Moreland pointed from the open door.

            With only a nod to him, Mrs. Crawford hurried away.

            Sheriff Kassen stepped from the shop and frowned at his deputy. “I thought I ordered you to keep an eye on that man.”

            “I have been. He hasn’t gone very far.” He pointed to the tall man Mrs. Crawford was now talking to before the next shop.

            With a sigh, the sheriff shook his head. “Do I trust the rumors, Moreland, or try to believe the best of him?”

            “Let’s believe the best, sir,” Deputy Moreland suggested. “Since we can’t prove the rumors are anything except stories.”

 

 The final part will be posted tomorrow.

Are you ready for Christmas?

I can't seem to realize it's coming so soon!

To All People - Part 1

 Good morning!

    I thought you all might enjoy reading the story that I turned into this year's Christmas play for church.

To All People

 

            The sun was just coming up and kissing the peaks of the western mountains with a soft halo of light. The cold morning air spoke of winter, and the faint breeze stirred a scent of pine and whispered of Christmas. Far up on the rocky mountain where towering trees and large rocks guarded a sheer drop into the valley below, a man appeared. He was silent and rugged like the mountains he lived in, and his face was kept warm by a shaggy beard while a hat was pulled down low over his head.

            For a minute he stood, his gaze sweeping the still dark valley that the sun hadn’t yet awakened, and seeming to take in every detail of the little town below him. Then he glanced up at the sky, and without a sound, he disappeared behind the rocks and trees.

 

            As the sun climbed higher, chasing away the last few stars and tinging the sky with pink and orange, gold and purple, the town of Western awoke. Who could sleep when Christmas Eve was the next day?

            The blacksmith, whistling as he strode across the street, lifted a hand in greeting to Sheriff Kassen and nodded to Mrs. Crawford and her daughter.

            “Good morning, Sheriff,” Mrs. Crawford said with a smile.

            “Mornin’, ma’am, Miss Kate. I reckon it will be a fine day today.”

            “It sure is looking that way with the beautiful sunrise. A perfect morning for almost Christmas.”

            Deputy Moreland, his rifle cradled in one arm and his wife’s hand resting on his other arm, joined them. “Morning, Sheriff. Ladies.” Deputy Moreland nodded his head.

            “Mrs. Crawford,” Mrs. Moreland said, “do you have some sugar still? I thought I’d bake some cookies since it’s almost Christmas.”

            Mrs. Crawford nodded. “I do. Kate and I were unpacking the last boxes yesterday. Would you like to get some now?”

            “Yes, I would.”

            As the ladies turned toward the general store, Mrs. Nelson with her baby in her arms, and Mrs. Stokes came down the street.

            “Oh, Mrs. Crawford!” Mrs. Stokes called, hurrying forward.

            Stopping, Mrs. Crawford, Kate, and Mrs. Moreland waited.

            “Good morning, Sheriff, Deputy Moreland,” Mrs. Stokes said quickly. “Mrs. Crawford, I need some buttons. Charlie has lost two off his shirt just this week. Boys are so hard on their clothes. I was hoping you would have something so that he could have a whole shirt for Christmas.”

            Mrs. Crawford looked thoughtful. “Well . . .”

            “Oh, Mama,” Kate broke in, “remember that bag of buttons I discovered under the counter last week? I’m sure there will be something in there.”

            “I had forgotten that. Mrs. Stokes, I’m sure we have some.” And Mrs. Crawford looked relieved. “Mrs. Nelson, how is Baby doing?”

            “He is fine.” Mrs. Nelson pulled back the blanket a little as the ladies gathered to look. “I just wish Husband was home.”

            “I know,” Mrs. Crawford said gently. “It is hard to celebrate Christmas with the men folk being gone. But they will be back with more supplies in only a few more weeks, I’m quite sure.”

            Still talking, the ladies wandered down the street toward the general store leaving Sheriff Kassen and his deputy together.

            “Well, Sheriff,” Deputy Moreland said, “I suppose it will be another slow day for us.”

            “I reckon.”

            The quiet of the morning was interrupted by an excited shout, and Charlie rushed up. “Sheriff! Sheriff!”

            “Charlie!” Mrs. Stokes exclaimed, as the ladies turned and quickly rejoined the two representatives of the law. “What is going on? What is wrong?”

            “Did you see a bear?” Mrs. Moreland asked with a smile.

            Charlie shook his head and gasped out, “A . . . giant! . . . From the . . . mountain!”

            “A giant?” Deputy Moreland echoed with raised eyebrows and a skeptical look.

            “Take a breath, Charlie,” Sheriff Kassen ordered. “Now, what exactly did you see?”

            Drawing a deep breath, Charlie let it out with a flood of words. “I saw the man of the mountain! He’s a giant, and he’s coming here!”

            “Are you making this up, Charlie?” Sheriff Kassen demanded sternly.

            “No, sir!”

            Before anyone else could say a word, Mrs. Fisher rushed up. “Sheriff, you’ll have to do something! I saw him, and he is a giant! I thought he was a bear at first, but he’s a man. At least I think he is. And he’s coming here!”

            “The mountain man?” Sheriff Kassen asked, reaching for his six-gun while his deputy shifted his rifle to his hands.

            Mrs. Fisher nodded, clinging to Mrs. Moreland.

            “Ladies, if you would clear the streets, we’ll handle things. Charlie, go along too.”

            “Come along to the store,” Mrs. Crawford offered and led the way.

            When the ladies had disappeared, Deputy Moreland turned to the sheriff, “Should we get Kockenbrock to join us?”

            “What for?”

            “Well–”

            There was no time for Deputy Moreland to finish his thought, for just then a large person clad in the garb of a man used to living alone in the mountains, and with a bushy beard and shaggy hair, appeared. He stopped short when he saw Sheriff Kassen and his deputy, but he didn’t speak.

            There was a long silence as the three men seemed to size each other up.

            A cheerful whistle broke the silence and Mr. Kockenbrock strolled casually up. “Need some water. Forgot to get some this morning.” He looked over at the stranger. “Mornin’. Have you tried Mrs. Fisher’s flapjacks?” Without waiting for an answer, the absentminded blacksmith continued on.

            The interruption seemed to rouse the sheriff, for he demanded, “What’s your name? And what brings you to our town?”

            “Tiny. Christmas.” The stranger’s words were rather quiet.

            “You came here for Christmas?” Sheriff Kassen questioned.

            The man gave a slight nod but said nothing.

            “Humph,” the sheriff grunted as he stared at the giant of a man. “Where are you from?”

            “Up yonder,” and the man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

            “You come alone?”

            “Yep.”

            Sheriff Kassen took a few steps closer and stared up into the man’s face. “Well now, you listen to me. I want no trouble from you, ya hear me? You come into my town, you got to behave yerself. Understand?”

            The man gave a short nod and then walked past the lawmen and continued down the road, pausing now and then to peer at a sign above a building or gaze into a shop window.

            Sheriff Kassen frowned after him. “I don’t like this, Moreland. I don’t like this one bit.”

            “Do you know anything about him, Sheriff?”

            “No. But I aim to find out what he’s up to.”

            “He said he came down for Christmas.”

            The sheriff grunted. “A likely story. Keep an eye on him, Deputy.”

            “Sure thing. But where are you going, Sheriff?”

            After a quick glance around, the sheriff said, “I reckon I’ll jest take a look from where he came from. Don’t want to be surprised if’n he’s got friends.” With a firm slap on his holstered gun, Sheriff Kassen hurried off in the direction the mountain man had come from.

            Alone, Deputy Moreland shook his head. “I wonder what’s going to happen.” With a sigh, he cradled his rifle again and set off after the strange man from the mountains.

 

*

 

            Inside the general store, the ladies were gathered near the window hoping, yet dreading, to catch a glimpse of the stranger Charlie and Mrs. Fisher had seen.

            “I’ve heard of the man in the mountains before,” Mrs. Moreland remarked. “Some say he’s got a gold mine up there, but he doesn’t mine it and shoots anyone who comes near.”

            “If that were the case,” Mrs. Crawford replied calmly, “why would he leave it and come down to town?”

            “I heard,” Mrs. Fisher said, “that he came down from Canada to escape the law up there.”

            “Is he an outlaw?” asked Mrs. Nelson, backing away from the window and holding her baby closer.

            “If he is wanted by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, he must be!” And Mrs. Stokes shook her head. “I wonder if he’s a member of that band of outlaws who were terrorizing the West a number of years ago. I don’t think they ever caught them all.”

            Mrs. Fisher turned from the window to look at her friend. “Were they from Canada?”

            “I don’t know, but they might have been. There are hundreds of miles between the two countries, and they can’t all be watched at once.”

            Mrs. Crawford tried to protest. “Ladies, we don’t know anything about the man.”

            “I overheard my husband and the sheriff talking one night,” Mrs. Moreland said, ignoring Mrs. Crawford. “They were talking about some outlaw leader who must be nearly seven feet tall, and he always goes into a town alone first before the rest of his gang come in and rob it.”

            Mrs. Nelson and Kate gasped.

            “I . . . I . . .” Kate stamKated, “I don’t think I like that man.”

            “And I heard–” Mrs. Fisher began.

            “Ladies!” Mrs. Crawford exclaimed more loudly this time. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t we–” She got no farther.

            Mrs. Stokes’s exclamation sent everyone crowding around the windows. “There he is!”

            Even Mrs. Crawford, though she was not suspicious, was curious about the man who had so suddenly appeared in their midst.

            Sure enough, the mountain man came slowly down the street, gazing at the buildings, and now and then stepping up on the boardwalk before returning to the street again. He didn’t seem to notice the faces of the women peering out the store windows at him. Now and then he would nod and look up at the sky.

            “Oh, there’s your husband, Mrs. Moreland,” Mrs. Fisher said.

            “Maybe he can tell us who the man is,” Mrs. Stokes hinted. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

            Mrs. Moreland, after making sure the mountain man wouldn’t notice, opened the door and beckoned her husband over. “Who is he?” she asked.

            With a shrug, Deputy Moreland shook his head. “Says his name is Tiny and he’s from the mountains. Says he’s come for Christmas.” The deputy looked at the ladies. “I think you’ll be safe if you go home today. Sheriff Kassen is doing some checking. I had better be going. I need to keep my eye on our friend.” With that he hurried away.

            The ladies looked at each other.

            “I don’t think I’ll feel safe at home with just Baby,” Mrs. Nelson said.

            “Come along with me for the day,” Mrs. Stokes offered. “Charlie can shoot straight.” She looked around. “I’ll have to find him though. Maybe he went to visit Mr. Kockenbrock.”

            Mrs. Fisher turned to Mrs. Moreland as Mrs. Stokes walked away with Mrs. Nelson. “May I come home with you? The boardinghouse is all fine and good at night when Mr. Kockenbrock is there because even if he is a bit absentminded at times, he’s big and strong. But in the daytime . . .”

            “Of course.”

            After the ladies left the store, Kate turned to her mother. “Mama, they didn’t purchase their sugar or buttons!”

Next part coming tomorrow..

Did you enjoy the first part of it?

Christmas Isn't Fair

 Hello!

Happy almost Friday. I thought of splitting this story into three days since it is 3k words long, but since I never could remember to get it posted until now, I decided to just let you read the full thing. This was the story I wrote for our church's Christmas play this year. And yes, I wrote myself into it. :) I am the first Mary Lou Reeder. The one who tells the story. I'm not sure you really want to see a picture of me in my costume.  . . .

Anyway, I hope you are all staying warm. Today's high (early this morning) was 17º F and it dropped to 5º F by noon. And the wind chill here was -21ºF. Now it's -4º and they say the windchill tonight could be -24º. Brrr! And yes, we got snow. Cold, powdery snow that blows across the roads, and swirls around and drifts and shifts. Tomorrow's high is supposed to be 12º F. It would be a heat wave if the windchill wasn't expected to be -22º. And since it's not expected to reach above freezing until after Christmas Day, we could have a white Christmas this year. That would be different!

Well, I hope you enjoy the story. And Merry Christmas! 

 

Christmas isn’t Fair

 

            “Helen, I’m so glad you could finally come over! We’ve been so busy with Christmas plans for school and church that we haven’t gotten to visit for quite some time.” The two friends were sitting in Mary’s living room one December afternoon.

            “I know. It has been a while. Thanks for having me over, Mary Lou. I was just admiring all the Christmas trees you have in your house and that giant pine out in your yard,” and Helen pointed to the large window where the tall and stately evergreen grew.

            “I love that tree,” Mary Lou Reeder sighed. “It always reminds me of the year I learned that Christmas wasn’t fair.”

            “Christmas isn’t fair?” Helen looked puzzled.

            “Yes. It was also my favorite Christmas.”

            “You really have me interested now.”

            Mary smiled. “Would you like to hear about it?”

            “Yes, I certainly would.” And Helen settled back in her chair with her hot drink in her hands.

            “It was way back in the ‘30s when I was ten years old, and I will admit that I was rather selfish back then. It all started the day my father came home late– Well, no, actually, it started before then, after school. I was walking home with my brother and two friends. We were talking about Christmas, as kids do in December, and I said, . . .”

 

*

 

            “We’re going to have a huge Christmas tree this year like we always do. I think we get a bigger one every year. And we’re going to decorate it with lights and ornaments. I’m going to ask if we can buy some of those new ones I saw in the store window. And we’ll have so many presents to open! We always do. And Mama will make cookies, and we’ll have a big dinner with turkey and ham and potatoes, and all sorts of good things, like we always do. Oh, we’ll have a great Christmas. What are you doing?” And Mary Lou turned to her friends.

            George shrugged. “I don’t know. Dad won’t be here for Christmas, and it’s hard to do much in a boarding house, so I don’t think we’ll do much.”

            “Will you have a tree?” Dick Reeder asked.

            George shook his head. “Nope. There’s already one in the house, and we don’t have space for one in our rooms.”

            “Are you getting a tree, Patsy?” Dick asked.

            “No. Grandma Olson says we can’t afford one and don’t have a place to put one since I moved in with her.”

            “You can come and look at our tree,” Mary Lou offered.

            The children had reached the crossroads and stopped.

            “I’d better go.” George waved and hurried away.

            “Come on, Mary Lou,” Dick said, “we’d better get going too, or Mama will wonder where we are. Bye, Patsy!”

            Patsy waved and ran off while the brother and sister headed for home.

            “What do you want for Christmas, Dick?” Mary Lou asked.

            “Oh, I want a new bike and the new tool set I was telling Dad about, and a new game and some books, and some other things. What do you want?”

            Mary Lou had her list ready. “A new doll house and new roller skates. And there’s a baby doll that is just too cute. And I want the full set of Little House books, and a red dress with a white collar, and . . .” Her voice died away as they rounded the bend in the road.

 

*

 

            Mary laughed a little. “I had a list a mile long of what I wanted that year. I had poured over every mail order catalogue that came into the house and wanted to visit every shop in town. I wanted new clothes and books and toys.” She shook her head. “You know how kids are when it comes to things they want.”

            “That’s for sure,” Helen agreed.

            “Anyway, I talked of almost nothing except Christmas for the next day or two. I told how big I wanted our tree, and I gave Mother my long list of what I wanted to find under the Christmas tree. Mother didn’t really say anything. But then she was busy taking care of my little brother. Willie was only two then.

            “But I remember the evening Daddy came home late. We’d already eaten and were sitting around playing with Willie. Mother looked at Daddy, and he shook his head as he took his coat off. Then he came over and sat down on the couch beside her.”

 

*

 

            “Daddy,” Mary Lou asked, “when are we going to get our Christmas tree?”

            “I’m afraid–” Daddy began and then stopped and looked at Mama.

            “Dick, Mary Lou,” Mama began, “there’s something you two should know.”

            “Are we going to Grandma’s?” Mary Lou asked quickly.

            Mama shook her head. “No. You see, Daddy lost his job last week.”

            “Lost his job?” Dick exclaimed. “What for?”

            “They can’t afford as many people, son. This depression is hitting pretty hard.” Dad’s voice was quiet.

            “But what does that have to do with a Christmas tree?” Mary Lou demanded.

            “It means,” Mama said, “that we don’t have money to buy a large one. And,” she went on before either child could say anything, “it also means there won’t be many gifts this year.”

            “But–” Mary Lou stared at her parents. “But that’s not fair!”

            “Can’t you get another job, Dad?” Dick asked hopefully.

            “I’ve been trying, Dick. There just isn’t anything so far.”

            Mary Lou buried her face in her hands. “It’s not fair!” she cried.

            Mama handed Willie to Dad and moved over beside Mary Lou. “Honey,” she lifted her chin, “life isn’t going to be fair. The very first Christmas wasn’t fair.”

            “What do you mean, Mama?” And Dick moved closer.

            “Do you think it was fair that the God who created the whole world just by speaking should leave Heaven and become a tiny baby and be born in a stable with smelly animals?”

            “Well, no.” And Dick frowned a little.

            “And,” Mama went on, “He didn’t come just to be born as a baby. He came to die for the sins of the whole world, even when He had done nothing wrong. Now, does that seem very fair to you?”

            Dick shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

            “Mary Lou?”

            Mary Lou wouldn’t look up, but she shook her head.

            “Does this mean we won’t have any Christmas?” Dick demanded.

            “Oh, we’ll do something,” Dad promised, setting Willie on the floor.

            Mama stood up. “You two had better get your homework done and then get to bed. Tomorrow’s another school day.”

            With a groan, Dick stood up. “Come on, Mary Lou, I’ll help you with your spelling.”

            As the children walked away, Mama turned to Dad. “What are we going to do?”

            “Pray.”

 

*

 

            Mary took a sip of her hot drink. “It took me a long time to get to sleep that night. I knew a lot of dads were out of work. Ourfriend George’s father was off working at one of the Civilian Conservation Corps projects and had been gone for several months.”

            “Then his family was at least getting some money, right?”

            Mary nodded. “Yes, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted my dad to join that so we’d have money, or if I wanted him to just stay home so we could be a family. What I really wanted, of course, was for him not to have lost his job.”

            Helen nodded. “So, what happened?”

            “Well, the next day on the way to school, Patsy and George met us as they usually did.”

 

*

 

            “Have you gotten your tree yet?” Patsy asked.

            “Nope. Don’t know if we’re going to get one either,” Dick answered in matter of fact tones.

            “Why not? I thought you always got a huge one?” And George looked puzzled.

            “Dad lost his job,” Mary Lou said.

            “Oh, I’m sorry, Mary Lou.” Patsy hugged her friend. “Is he going to join the CCC?”

            Mary Lou shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “Dad said we’d still do something for Christmas,” Dick said.

            “It’s just not fair,” Mary Lou said.

            “Yeah, but remember what Mama said about the first Christmas,” Dick reminded her.

            “What did she say?” Patsy and George asked at the same time.

            “It wasn’t fair that Jesus had to leave Heaven and be born in a dirty stable and then die for our sins,” Dick answered.

            “But He did it anyway,” George remarked thoughtfully.

            The ringing of the school bell left no time for more conversation.

 

*

 

            “That’s an interesting thought,” Helen remarked. “I hadn’t thought of how unfair that first Christmas really was.”

            Mary nodded. “I know. It’s easy to overlook. We get so caught up in trying to make sure everyone has the same number of presents, or that we don’t forget to send someone a Christmas card, that we forget Christmas isn’t about being fair, or even about what gifts we get. But I wasn’t sure about all that back then.”

            Mary clasped her hands around her mug and continued her story.

            “When we got home from school that day Daddy was home building a block tower with Willie. I remember just how strange it was to see him at home on a weekday.”

 

*

 

            “How was school?” Dad asked.

            “Fine,” Dick answered.

            “Did you find a job, Daddy?” Mary Lou asked hopefully.

            Daddy shook his head. “No.”

            “Can’t you join the CCC like George’s daddy?”

            Daddy shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

            Just then Mama came into the room. “I think,” she said, “we need to make some plans for Christmas.”

            Dick dumped his books down and sat on the floor with his legs crossed to help Willie built a tower. “What sort of plans?”

            Mary Lou remained standing, a sad look on her face.

            Mama sat down with a paper and pencil “Well,” she began, “we should think of things we can do to make Christmas special. I thought perhaps we could invite George and his mother to do something with us.”

            Mary Lou folded her arms. “But they have money.”

            “Mary Lou, it’s not about money,” Mama said gently. “It’s about celebrating the birth of the One who came to save us from our sins.”

            “I want a Christmas tree.”

            Dad spoke. “Mr. Lawton, over on the edge of town, said there were some trees in his woods that would be nice for Christmas. Said we were welcome to come help ourselves.”

            “Could we take Patsy along?” Dick asked. “It didn’t sound like her grandma was planning on much Christmas at all.”

            “I think that would be nice,” Mama smiled, writing the idea down on her paper. “What else could we do? Mary Lou, do you have any ideas?”

            Mary Lou remained standing and shook her head.

            “Can we make cookies at all this year, Mama?” Dick asked.

            “I think so. Not a lot, but I think we can manage a few. Anything else?” Mama looked over at Dad and Mary Lou, then smiled at Willie.

            “I know what I’d like to do,” Dad remarked, after a short silence. “I’d like to focus on the whole Christmas story this year, not just the first part.”

            “The whole story, Dad?” Dick turned a puzzled face to his father. “But we usually have the whole thing. We read the part in Luke Christmas Eve night, and then the story in Matthew on Christmas morning.”

            “Honey, I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Mama put in quickly, not giving Dad a chance to answer.

            “But–” Dick began.

            “Now, let’s see.” It was evident that Mama wasn’t going to give Dad a chance to answer Dick’s question. “Tomorrow is the last day of school until New Year, isn’t it?”

            “Yes, Ma’am.” Dick stacked a few blocks up.

            “Good. Phil, do you have any plans for Saturday?”

            Dad looked up. “Nope.”

            “What do you think of looking for a Christmas tree then? If it works for George and his Mama and for Patsy?”

            Dad agreed with a nod.

            “Dick and Mary Lou, why don’t you run over to Patsy’s and see if she can join us on Saturday. And her grandma too, if she’d like. And then to the Babcock’s. Make sure Mrs. Babcock knows we’d love to have her as well as George.”

            Dick jumped up. “Come on, Mary Lou!”

            Reluctantly, Mary Lou followed.

 

*

 

            “Let me guess,” Helen said with a little laugh, “you weren’t happy about the whole plan.”

            Mary shook her head. “No, I certainly wasn’t. I wanted a Christmas tree, but I didn’t want to tramp through the woods. And I certainly didn’t want to do it with George and Patsy, even though they were my friends. The idea of being as poor, or maybe even poorer than they were, just didn’t sit well with me.” She took a sip of her drink.

            “Well, did they go with you?”

            “Yes. And we came home with a Christmas tree. It wasn’t full and large like I had dreamed of. I didn’t even think it was very pretty, but no one listened to me. I can’t say that I blame them, for I rather sulked the whole time we were in the woods. Mrs. Babcock and George and Patsy and Mrs. Olson stayed and helped us decorate the tree.”

 

*

 

            There was much laughter and chatter in the Reeder living room as everyone helped hang ornaments on the tree while Christmas songs came over the radio. Even Willie tried to help. No, the ornaments weren’t spaced out perfectly, and there were some bare spots, but it was a happy time. When the last ornament was hung, Dick ran over and plugged in the lights.

            “Oh, it’s pretty!”

            “Beautiful!”

            “It reminds me of the Christmas trees we used to have before this depression hit and my husband joined the CCC,” Mrs. Babcock said with a sigh. “It really is lovely.”

            “Patsy, did you used to have Christmas trees like this?” Mary Lou asked.

            Patsy nodded. “Yeah. We’d set it up Christmas Eve, and then Dad would read the Christmas story. I miss that most of all.”

            “We could do that now, couldn’t we, Dad?” Dick asked.

            Dad looked at Mrs. Babcock and Mrs. Olson. “Would you like to join us?”

            “George and I would love to. Thank you.” Mrs. Babcock sat down on a chair near Mama.

            “That would be so nice, Phil. Thank you.” And Mrs. Olson sat down with Patsy beside her.

            Everyone settled down to listen with eagerness except Mary Lou. She sat by herself and frowned.

 

*

 

            “Why were you upset?” Helen asked. “It seems like a beautiful thing to do after decorating a Christmas tree.”

            Mary took a drink of her tea and shook her head. “That’s exactly what my mother asked me after the others had left. I told her it wasn’t fair that we had to listen to the same thing twice just because Patsy and George didn’t get to decorate their own trees and listen to it then. I know, I wasn’t very nice about it, and to be honest, I was expecting to get into trouble for saying what I did, but my parents were so wise. They didn’t scold. Instead . . .”

 

*

 

            “Come sit over here, Mary Lou.” Mama’s voice was quiet, and she patted the seat beside her.

            Mary Lou dragged herself over and sat down without a word.

            “I think,” Mama said, “we need to hear the rest of the Christmas story.”

            Dad nodded and opened his Bible again. “And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, ‘Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’” Dad turned some pages and read another verse. “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

            No one said a word as Dad turned back some pages and read, “Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures.” Gently Dad closed the Bible. “That is the rest of the Christmas story.”

            “See,” Mama said, “it wasn’t fair. Jesus Christ not only left the glories of His Father’s home to be born as a baby in a crowded town full of strangers who had no room for Him except in a stable with smelly animals, but He came so that He might die for our sins. Christmas isn’t about gifts or trees or even cookies–though we can enjoy those things as we celebrate Christ’s birth–it’s about a Savior Who didn’t worry about how unfair it was that He should suffer for the sins we have done. Instead He came in love to give His life a ransom for many.”

            “I like that,” Dick admitted. “Life would be a whole lot better if we could forget about trying to make sure things were fair, and instead thought of doing things because of love.”

            “It sure would, son,” Dad said with a nod and a yawn.

            Mama looked at the clock. “It’s getting late. Time for everyone to head to bed.”

            Rising, Dad picked up Willie. “Dick, will you unplug the Christmas tree?”

 

*

 

            “I couldn’t get to sleep that night,” Mary Lou Reeder said. “Those verses Dad had read kept coming back to my mind. I knew in my head that Jesus had come to die, but I always thought of that for Easter time, not Christmas. Somehow, hearing it all read together like that made me think about it differently. I don’t know what time it was when I finally got up and went into the dark living room. I plugged in the Christmas tree and sat on the floor hugging my knees and looking at the lights. No, it wasn’t fair that my dad had lost his job. But others had lost their jobs. Was it fair that he had kept his job longer than George’s dad? The longer I sat and thought about it, the more I realized that things I had taken for granted weren’t fair. But I also realized how special Christmas was even if we didn’t have everything we were used to having, and how thankful I was that Jesus came in love and not in fairness; He came to bring salvation to everyone who was willing to receive it, not to those who deserved it. He came to die for my sins even when I had rejected His great gift.” Mary fell silent for a few minutes.

            Reaching out, Helen placed her hand on Mary Lou’s arm. “What did you do?”

            A smile came over Mary Lou’s face. “I knelt there beside that Christmas tree, confessed my sins, and received the best gift anyone could give me.”

            Helen let out a sigh. “So that’s why you love Christmas trees so much.”

            “Yes. The Christmas trees remind me that Christmas isn’t about fairness, it’s about love.”

Have you had really cold weather this week?

Are you ready for Christmas?

If you really want to see me in my costume, you can watch the play HERE.