face. It wa s f illed with peace. Her deep eye s s parkled and the smile grew. Then I understood and I too smiled. Andre a h ad come.
By the time I reached home it wa s w ell past midnight. Mary's brothe r h ad arrived from London and in deference I had left them alone to shar e t he last few minutes together. Jenn a h ad been put to bed and Keri, no t k nowing when I would return, ha d s adly laid the Christmas package s u nder the tree. I sat down in th e r ocker in front of the illuminated Christmas tree and lay my head in m y h ands. Somewhere between th e a ngel and Mary's house I had figure d i t out. The first gift of Christmas. It jus t c ame. It came to my heart. The firs t g ift of Christmas was love. A parent' s l ove. Pure as the first snows of Christmas. For God so loved His childre n t hat He sent His son, that we migh t s omeday return to Him. I understoo d w hat Mary had been trying to teac h m e. I stood up and walked up th e s tairs where my little girl lay sleeping.
I picked up her warm little body and , cradling her tightly in my arms , brought her back down to the den. M y t ears fell on her hair. My little girl. M y p recious little girl. How foolish I' d b een to let her childhood, her fleeting , precious childhood slip away. Forever. In my young mind everythin g w as so permanent and lasting. My little girl would be my little girl forever.
But time would prove me wrong.
Someday she'd grow up. Someda y s he'd be gone and I would be left wit h t he memory of giggles and secrets I might have known.
Jenna took a deep breath an d s nuggled close for warmth. I held he r l ittle body tightly against mine. Thi s w as what it meant to be a father, t o k now that one day I would tur n a round and my little girl would b e g one. To look upon the sleeping littl e g irl and to die a little inside. For on e p recious, fleeting moment, to hold th e c hild in my arms, and would that tim e s tood still.
But none of that mattered now. No t n ow. Not tonight. Tonight Jenna wa s m ine and no one could take this Christmas Eve away from me but me.
How wise Mary had been. Mary, wh o k new the pain of a father sending hi s s on away on that first Christma s m orn, knowing full well the path tha t l ay ahead. Mary understood Christmas. The tears in the Bible showe d t hat. Mary loved with the pure, swee t l ove of a mother, a love so deep that i t b ecomes the allegory for all othe r l ove. She knew that in my quest fo r s uccess in this world I had been trading diamonds for stones. She knew , and she loved me enough to help m e s ee. Mary had given me the greates t g ift of Christmas. My daughter's childhood.
EPILOGUE:
It was around nin e o 'clock Christmas morning that Mary' s b rother called to tell us Mary wa s g one. The call found Keri and me holding each other on the couch in Mary' s d en, surrounded by the aftermath of Christmas giving. I lifted the Christmas Box down from the fireplace mante l w here we had placed it in memory of Mary. I set the box near the hearth , then one by one, let the flames devou r t he letters as Keri watched in silen t u nderstanding. The Christmas Bo x w as at last empty.
Mary was buried next to the smal l a ngel statue that she had so faithfull y v isited. In the course of our assistin g i n the burial arrangements, the funera l h ome had asked Keri what the y s hould engrave on the headstone. "A loving mother," she said simply.
Every Christmas Eve, for as lon g a s we lived in the valley, we returne d t o the grave and laid a white lil y b eneath the feet of the angel wit h o utspread wings. Keri and I lived i n t he mansion for the space of severa l m ore Christmas seasons until th e f amily decided to sell the estate, an d w e purchased a home in the southern end of the valley. In the year s s ince, our family grew from three t o s ix, and though the demands of providing for such a family oftentime s s eemed endless, I never forgot th e l essons I learned that Christmas with
By the time I reached home it wa s w ell past midnight. Mary's brothe r h ad arrived from London and in deference I had left them alone to shar e t he last few minutes together. Jenn a h ad been put to bed and Keri, no t k nowing when I would return, ha d s adly laid the Christmas package s u nder the tree. I sat down in th e r ocker in front of the illuminated Christmas tree and lay my head in m y h ands. Somewhere between th e a ngel and Mary's house I had figure d i t out. The first gift of Christmas. It jus t c ame. It came to my heart. The firs t g ift of Christmas was love. A parent' s l ove. Pure as the first snows of Christmas. For God so loved His childre n t hat He sent His son, that we migh t s omeday return to Him. I understoo d w hat Mary had been trying to teac h m e. I stood up and walked up th e s tairs where my little girl lay sleeping.
I picked up her warm little body and , cradling her tightly in my arms , brought her back down to the den. M y t ears fell on her hair. My little girl. M y p recious little girl. How foolish I' d b een to let her childhood, her fleeting , precious childhood slip away. Forever. In my young mind everythin g w as so permanent and lasting. My little girl would be my little girl forever.
But time would prove me wrong.
Someday she'd grow up. Someda y s he'd be gone and I would be left wit h t he memory of giggles and secrets I might have known.
Jenna took a deep breath an d s nuggled close for warmth. I held he r l ittle body tightly against mine. Thi s w as what it meant to be a father, t o k now that one day I would tur n a round and my little girl would b e g one. To look upon the sleeping littl e g irl and to die a little inside. For on e p recious, fleeting moment, to hold th e c hild in my arms, and would that tim e s tood still.
But none of that mattered now. No t n ow. Not tonight. Tonight Jenna wa s m ine and no one could take this Christmas Eve away from me but me.
How wise Mary had been. Mary, wh o k new the pain of a father sending hi s s on away on that first Christma s m orn, knowing full well the path tha t l ay ahead. Mary understood Christmas. The tears in the Bible showe d t hat. Mary loved with the pure, swee t l ove of a mother, a love so deep that i t b ecomes the allegory for all othe r l ove. She knew that in my quest fo r s uccess in this world I had been trading diamonds for stones. She knew , and she loved me enough to help m e s ee. Mary had given me the greates t g ift of Christmas. My daughter's childhood.
EPILOGUE:
It was around nin e o 'clock Christmas morning that Mary' s b rother called to tell us Mary wa s g one. The call found Keri and me holding each other on the couch in Mary' s d en, surrounded by the aftermath of Christmas giving. I lifted the Christmas Box down from the fireplace mante l w here we had placed it in memory of Mary. I set the box near the hearth , then one by one, let the flames devou r t he letters as Keri watched in silen t u nderstanding. The Christmas Bo x w as at last empty.
Mary was buried next to the smal l a ngel statue that she had so faithfull y v isited. In the course of our assistin g i n the burial arrangements, the funera l h ome had asked Keri what the y s hould engrave on the headstone. "A loving mother," she said simply.
Every Christmas Eve, for as lon g a s we lived in the valley, we returne d t o the grave and laid a white lil y b eneath the feet of the angel wit h o utspread wings. Keri and I lived i n t he mansion for the space of severa l m ore Christmas seasons until th e f amily decided to sell the estate, an d w e purchased a home in the southern end of the valley. In the year s s ince, our family grew from three t o s ix, and though the demands of providing for such a family oftentime s s eemed endless, I never forgot th e l essons I learned that Christmas with
Similar Books
