Dedicated to Arlen and Roby Ann
In tribute to their many childhood tales!
The Texas sky was velvet blue and clear, but for the stars shining. Stars that were twinkling and uncountable…they knew, because Arlen and Robyann had tried!
“Arlen, didya’ see it? Did ya’ see that shootin’ star?” asked Robyann.
“Yep,” the little boy replied.
“Did ya’ make a wish, Arlen?” asked his older sister.
“Nope,” he said.
Lying head to head, on their backs, they gazed on. They had felt blessed to do this, because most kids they knew only got to stargaze outside. Since the tornado though, Robyann and Arlen could do so right from the comfort of their own bed! Gaps in the rafters, where shingles had once been, allowed them to stargaze every night these past few days. As far as they were concerned, they had a front row seat to the heavens!
For Robyann, the only thing pretty enough to distract her attention from the stars was the twinkling from the next room. Blue lights from the Christmas tree cast a “silent night” glow about the room. They could just see the tree from their bed. This was the first year they had lights upon their tree- Just a small strand, passed along from a friend up the road. The blue glow through the tree limbs cast a multi-blue stained glass shadow upon the wall.
Earlier that evening, they had decorated the little tree. They had been saving bits of tin foil and gum wrappers they’d found along the road. Grandma had given them a few fabric scraps to tie on the bough ends. Momma had shown them how to cut snowflakes from the few precious sheets of wax paper she’d saved. Daddy had strung the lights for them and agreed that the electric bill wouldn’t suffer for one evening of plugging them in. Together, they had all trekked out to the woods earlier in the day to find and dig up their tree.
Times were hard for all during this Depression. “But none are poor, which have each other,” Grandma would say. She was a feisty, yet God-fearing woman. She carried a small pistol in her apron pocket…had even taught Arlen to shoot it. One day, she stood him on an old milk bucket and taught him to aim. She could “love ya fiercely”- easy to hug and quick to “tan your backside” when needed. Once discipline was issued, the crime was quickly forgotten in her eyes, but never was the lesson easily forgot by whomever she’d had to exact it!
Arlen hard remembered the most recent lesson. He and Johnny Bean had drawn a bulls-eye target on the backside of the barn. They wanted to practice “their pitchin’…they started out with dirt clods, but quickly got bored. Somehow, they figured if the mud balls went “splat” just right, eggs would probably do real good. Well, Grandma liked to have lit a fire when she come round the side of the barn and saw them chucking her prized goose eggs! Punishment was swift and then, she handed them each a rag and sent them for a bucket of water. As they scrubbed, she told them how “those goose eggs would have brought in good money. To say nothing of being inconsiderate of what the Good Lord has given us,” she went on.
Arlen’s heart ached now, as he recalled that day. Surely, Santa wouldn’t even stop here tonight, let alone leave him the baseball mitt he’d asked for. He’d written Santa weeks ago. Though stamps were scarce, Momma assured him that “she’d make sure Santa received the letter.” His sister Robyann, being the ancient age of three years older than he, hadn’t written Santa this year. “I’m too old for that,” she’d said.
Well, Arlen wasn’t too sure whether or not he believed Santa was real, but he wasn’t taking any chances. All he’d heard for awhile now was: “Times is hard…” This depression is gettin’ depressin’…can’t afford that right now.” He really wanted that mitt though, so he’d taken his request to the Big Man himself. Actually, Santa was second in command, “cuz everybody knew that God was the Head Honcho”. So, first he prayed.
But he just knew that he’d ruined his chances for sure with that goose egg escapade. Not only had he ticked off Grandma, but he’d hindered their “livelihood,” too. He didn’t know a whole lot yet, but he understood that word, “livelihood.” Folks had been turning conversation around that word for awhile now, too.
So, Arlen lay there quietly contemplating his fate. Even the stars couldn’t raise his enthusiasm nor ease his misery this night. He didn’t even think that a wish could save him when he’d seen that ol’ shootin’ star. He’d just shut his eyes and sleep right through Christmas!
“Arlen, wake up,” Robyann nudged him the next morning.
The sun was shining and the birds were singing. Bacon was being fried in that big cast iron frypan in the kitchen. Even Daddy and could be heard whistling a tune, while outside feeding the animals. It was Christmas morning!
Arlen jumped out of bed, caught up in excitement, but then he remembered.
“Come on,” exclaimed Robyann, as she scurried into the kitchen. Arlen slowly followed and didn’t dare even peep into the living room on his way by.
“Merry Christmas, children,” kissed Grandma. And their Momma hugged them both tight.
“After breakfast, you can see what Santa left you under the tree,” said their mother.
Arlen knew though…nothin’. Momma surely hadn’t looked yet or she’d known, too. “Santa didn’t bring me nothin’, he thought. Arlen didn’t blame him.
Breakfast was good- Grandma made the best! There wasn’t anything she couldn’t turn out in that big cast iron frypan of hers. Sometimes while she cooked, she’d sing a tune. If she caught Arlen watching, she’d sing one of his favorites about Jesus little man or the hunting preacher song.
Even Daddy kept his smile this morning and Momma said that “the dishes could wait.” Robyann led the way into the living room, where they all gathered around the tree. Arlen didn’t dare look, for disappointment, as they all settled down to listen to Grandma read the Christmas Story from her old bible she’d received many Christmases before. Actually, she didn’t really need to read it, as she knew it by heart. Every Christmas, Grandma enjoyed retelling the story of baby Jesus being born in the stable. Arlen’s favorite part was when the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest!” Oh, he could just imagine the raucous they made!
Then Momma handed Robyann and Arlen each a flour sack stocking filled with nuts, new pencils for school and an orange. Robyann found a yard of silky blue ribbon in hers, which Daddy said, “matched her eyes!” Stuffed in the bottom of Arlen’s, was something heavy. He tugged it unstuck and nearly fell backwards when it gave loose. He thought he was dreaming, for there in his hands was a baseball mitt!
The child was speechless as he looked at the mitt, then at each knowing pair of eyes in the room. They all smiled. He’d often heard Grandma and Momma speak of grace. He never quite understood…until now. And, as it had all those Christmases ago, grace had arrived. Arlen didn’t know a whole lot yet, but he did know that.
THE END
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