For
as long as I could remember we never spoke of Christmas. Nor was anyone that we
knew or associated with in any way, shape, or form invited into our home if
they were involved in that holiday. However, that changed one winter’s day when
a needy family knocked on our front door.
Although we still lived near Boston,
in a somewhat remote hamlet called Lynnfield, dad had promised mom that we
would be in Palm Springs before snow flew. Yet as I opened the door and peered
into the twilight it seemed that snow covered our walk and driveway. I knew it
was an early snow because those who lived in this community told us to consider
ourselves lucky to have a sign of snow before that holiday which we seldom
mentioned passed.
“Glad I found ya’ ta’ home,” the
bedraggled man said. He doffed what might have been a hat. Then remembered he
had none and turned towards a woman about his age whom I believed to be his
wife.
“Seems like they might have
something worth seeing,” she whispered to him.
He nodded, took a piece of wrinkled
newspaper from his pocket, looked at it and asked, “You the Izzien’s.”
“Eisen,” I said. “We’re the
Eisen’s.”
“Pleased ta’ meet ya’.” Since each
of his children had grabbed one of his hands, he shook one free. Using his
teeth to pull off his glove, he pumped mine. “Mighty happy you’re ta’ home.
It’s real cold…can we come in?”
Before I could think what to do,
they were standing the hallway.
“Whose there Paula?” mom asked. I
was never so happy to hear her voice as I was then for it seemed to me that
this family had stepped out of the pages of a Dickens novel.
“S’cuse us mam,” the man said. “We
come ta’ see what you all is sellin’.’”
My mom had always been a stickler
for checking people out before she invited them in. So I breathed a sigh of
relief and stationed myself by the front door knob ready to show them out.
However, much to my chagrin, mom leaned over the banister, smiled at the brood
and waved them up. I followed. When they arrived at the upper landing dad met
them. I was certain he was going to ask them to leave. Instead, he pumped the
man’s hand. “Glad you could get here before we packed everything up and shipped
it to California.”
I looked from my father to this
threadbare family, not a coat between them and wondered how they could pay for
anything. Before I could muster enough courage to ask if they were shoppers who
could pay, mom came out of the kitchen holding the pad of yellow paper she
always wrote her shopping list on and a pencil. “Now let’s see what you’d like
to have.”
“Mighty Christian of you,” the woman
mumbled.
“Think I want to shelp all this
stuff across country when we can help you furnish a place for a few dollars!”
“That’s right,” my dad said. He
ushered them into the kitchen. By the time, he handed the man and woman a cup
of coffee, mom was setting out milk and cookies for their kids.
I wondered if I was awake or
dreaming when I heard mom lament, “It’s hard to have your home and everything
you own burn down so close to Christmas.”
“Sure is mam’,” the man agreed.
I heard the girl gulp back a sob.
Turning towards her, I saw her brake down and wail, “I lost all my stuffed
animals.”
I understood what she meant because
since we’d move across country my stuffed animals were my only friends. But as
I looked at this girl I realized she had less than I did. In fact, when I
looked at her shoes and saw that they were at least a size to large and broken,
and hair that might have once sparkled from her mother’s combing, appeared
tangled, I knew she had nothing. However, I believed she was unlike others
facing this or worse, for although she was at least four years my junior; she
stared at me as if daring me to make a snide remark.
Once the couple had drained their
cups, they stood.
“Come with me,” mom said. When they followed mom I motioned for
the girl to come with me.
“Where are we going?” I led her down
the hall to my bedroom, and pulled her in. Since there were stuffed animals
galore, I’d expected her to pick one. Then I would give it to her. Instead, her
eyes traveled to each one then back to me. “You sure have a lot of…” she
sniffled. But she didn’t act as if she wanted any of them.
Why it’s almost Christmas and she
has no home, I reminded myself. Where could she put one of these if I gave it
to her? It would probably look as rag-tag as she and her folks do within the
week.
She smiled and pretended to look at
anything but my animal collection, while I looked at her and tried to figure
out how a Christian who I’d always assumed would want every present on the
planet could just look.
Mom walked by and nodded. “You two
getting along okay?”
I shrugged.
Dad and the man walked by carrying
mom’s chest of drawers. “Paula, what are you doing teasing Sis like that?” he
pointed to the stuffed animals on my bed.
“It’ll be okay dad.” I closed the
door.
“What did ya’ do that fur?”
“I didn’t want anyone snooping.”
She nodded, then gulped back a sob. “I can’t
be happy when my mom’s been cryin’ enough for all of us!”
“You and your folks will feel better
once you’ve picked out one of these animals!”
Sis eyed me. “Really, you’re not
sayin’ that to make fun of us?”
I showed her three large packing
boxes. “My folks have to pay for everything to be shipped to LA so you’d be
doing us a favor if you took one or two with you.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
While her eyes darted from one
choice to another, I took a small packing box out of my closet. “I think your
choices will fit in here.”
“Oh that box can hold more than one
stuffed animal,” she squealed with delight
“I know that!”
“Really…I should fill up this box?”
“Really!” I watched as she chose
certain ones and left others that she seemed to like more. At one point, she
held the black velvet Siamese cat with foe diamond collar, which was almost
half her height, and smile at me. Then she put it back and picked out the
biggest, softest, and oldest stuffed animal I owned. I wondered why she chose
that one since she hadn’t admired or petted it.
I pointed to the threadbare relic of my
toddler years. “Why did you choose this one?”
“It’s real cold and until we get our
insurance money what we’ve got got’s to last cause dad got fired the day our
home burnt.”
“Where are you sleeping?”
“In our truck...It’s all we got.”
I looked at Sis, turned saw my
stuffed animals as a means of warmth during a cold winter’s snow, realized that
at 16, I was too old for them, pulled out the big boxes and tossed the stuffed
animals into the boxes.
“What yo’ doing?”
“Giving my stuffed animals a good
home for the holidays!"
Paula Rose Michelson is the author of
Romantic Inspirational Fiction, biblically based Christian Self-help, Political
Nonfiction, as well as Works Written to Encourage. To find out more about her
and her books visit: http://amzn.to/1z8ydzA
And ‘From Why Johnny Can’t Read’ to See Paula Write!” has also garnered an audience placing it in Amazon’s Top 100 Bestsellers List in the categories of: Counseling & Recovery, Self-help and Religion & Spirituality! http://amzn.to/SQetiN
