Post by Rhonda on Jan 24, 2006 22:17:50 GMT -5
Lights for Lena
By Karen L. Garrison
It had been the perfect winter night to view Christmas lights.
"Hurry, kids!" I shouted upstairs to my children. "Daddy's already outside
warming the van." Within minutes I heard excited voices. "Mommy! Mommy!"
my six-year-old daughter Abigail shouted, sliding on her behind down the
carpeted stairs. "Is the hot chocolate ready?"
"It's in the van," I told her, smiling as my two-year-old son Simeon tugged
at my shirt. We were all wearing our pajamas. After all, this was a
Christmas tradition! Each year at Christmastime, we'd get into our
sleepwear, pack a bag full of munchies, and head to our van to go looking at
decorations on neighboring houses. We had just stepped out of the door when
Abigail surprised me by asking, "Mama, can you give me more money for doing
my chores? I want to buy you, Daddy, and Simeon the best gifts for
Christmas!"
"The best gifts are those that come from the heart," I grinned, recalling
how she had drawn me a picture of a rainbow the day before after learning I
hadn't been feeling well.
"You mean that instead of buying people things at the stores, that there's
other ways to give them gifts?"
"Yep," I answered, securing her seat belt. "All a person has to do is look
into their heart and they'll find many good gifts to give."
Settled into the van, we opened the bag of goodies and the kids cheered as
we passed house after house decorated with snowmen, Santa and his reindeer,
nativity scenes or that were glowing brightly in Christmas lights.
Suddenly, it began snowing lightly just as we rounded the corner of a street
that led into the neighborhood that my husband Jeff and I had lived in years
ago. The headlights flashed onto the first brick home of the street. The
house appeared disturbingly dark compared to the bright lights displayed by
its neighbors.
"The people who live there must not like Christmas," Abigail noted from the
back seat.
"Actually, honey," my husband said, stopping the van briefly along the curb,
"they used to have the best decorated house in the neighborhood." Jeff
clasped my hand and I sighed, remembering Lena and her husband and how they
used to take such joy in decorating their home for Christmas. "It's for the
children," they'd say. "We like to imagine them in the back seat of their
parents' cars; their little faces full of Christmas magic as they look at
our home."
"Why don't they decorate it anymore?" Abigail asked, bringing my attention
to the present.
"Well," I began, remembering the dark days when Lena's husband had been
hospitalized. "Her husband died a few years ago, and Lena's very old. She
only has one child and he's a soldier living far away."
"Tell me what she's like," Abigail said, and for the next few minutes Jeff
and I filled her in on the kind things Lena used to do.
"And every Sunday after church, she'd make homemade cookies and invite us
over. She's an incredible person," Jeff concluded.
"Can we visit her now?" asked Abigail.
Simeon met Abigail's question with enthusiastic agreement, and I shared our
children's excitement. Both Jeff and I looked down at our attire.
"I knew this would happen one day," he said, rubbing his forehead. "First I
let you talk me into wearing pajamas in the van, and now you're going to
want me to actually go visiting, right?"
I kissed his cheek and an hour later, after leaving Lena's home, Abigail and
Simeon clutched the crocheted tree ornaments she'd graciously given them.
"I wish I had a gift for her," Abigail said, waving at the elderly woman
standing in her doorway.
The next morning, my children gave me strict orders not to come upstairs.
They said something about it being a secret mission for Christmas. After
rummaging through drawers, closets and toy chests, they came down the stairs
wearing toy construction hats, snow boots, and Simeon's play tool belts.
"What is all this?" I laughed. "Are you going to fix things around here?"
"Nope," Abigail smiled brightly. "We're going to give a gift to Lena.
Since she's too old and doesn't have anyone to do it for her - we're going
to decorate her house for Christmas!"
Her words brought tears to my eyes. "That's a wonderful idea," I said,
calling their father. "But I think you'll need Daddy and me to help. Is it
okay if we're part of your secret mission?"
"Sure!" they replied. Hours later, we stood with Lena, who couldn't have
been happier, on the sidewalk in front of her now brightly glowing house.
The lights we had found in her basement were shining with pride over
snow-capped arches and windows. Candy canes lined the sidewalk and welcomed
passersby to the Nativity scene that Abigail and Simeon had positioned on
the snow-covered lawn. A car cruising along slowed its speed to view the
lights. Two children peeked from the back window, their faces full of
excitement. Lena watched them, her eyes aglow.
It had been a day full of hard work, but it was worth every second to see
the joy on her face. Suddenly, she disappeared inside her home and returned
carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies.
Abigail reached her hand inside my coat pocket and clutched my fingers.
"You were right, Mom," she sighed, her dark eyes content.
"About what, sweetie?"
She leaned her head against my arm, and replied, "The best gifts are those
from the heart." I kissed the top of her head, so proud of her for using
her own heart to think of this, and then I turned to my husband. Our eyes
met and he smiled.
"Looks like decorating Lena's house can be added to our list of Christmas
traditions," he announced. The kids heartily agreed.
By Karen L. Garrison
It had been the perfect winter night to view Christmas lights.
"Hurry, kids!" I shouted upstairs to my children. "Daddy's already outside
warming the van." Within minutes I heard excited voices. "Mommy! Mommy!"
my six-year-old daughter Abigail shouted, sliding on her behind down the
carpeted stairs. "Is the hot chocolate ready?"
"It's in the van," I told her, smiling as my two-year-old son Simeon tugged
at my shirt. We were all wearing our pajamas. After all, this was a
Christmas tradition! Each year at Christmastime, we'd get into our
sleepwear, pack a bag full of munchies, and head to our van to go looking at
decorations on neighboring houses. We had just stepped out of the door when
Abigail surprised me by asking, "Mama, can you give me more money for doing
my chores? I want to buy you, Daddy, and Simeon the best gifts for
Christmas!"
"The best gifts are those that come from the heart," I grinned, recalling
how she had drawn me a picture of a rainbow the day before after learning I
hadn't been feeling well.
"You mean that instead of buying people things at the stores, that there's
other ways to give them gifts?"
"Yep," I answered, securing her seat belt. "All a person has to do is look
into their heart and they'll find many good gifts to give."
Settled into the van, we opened the bag of goodies and the kids cheered as
we passed house after house decorated with snowmen, Santa and his reindeer,
nativity scenes or that were glowing brightly in Christmas lights.
Suddenly, it began snowing lightly just as we rounded the corner of a street
that led into the neighborhood that my husband Jeff and I had lived in years
ago. The headlights flashed onto the first brick home of the street. The
house appeared disturbingly dark compared to the bright lights displayed by
its neighbors.
"The people who live there must not like Christmas," Abigail noted from the
back seat.
"Actually, honey," my husband said, stopping the van briefly along the curb,
"they used to have the best decorated house in the neighborhood." Jeff
clasped my hand and I sighed, remembering Lena and her husband and how they
used to take such joy in decorating their home for Christmas. "It's for the
children," they'd say. "We like to imagine them in the back seat of their
parents' cars; their little faces full of Christmas magic as they look at
our home."
"Why don't they decorate it anymore?" Abigail asked, bringing my attention
to the present.
"Well," I began, remembering the dark days when Lena's husband had been
hospitalized. "Her husband died a few years ago, and Lena's very old. She
only has one child and he's a soldier living far away."
"Tell me what she's like," Abigail said, and for the next few minutes Jeff
and I filled her in on the kind things Lena used to do.
"And every Sunday after church, she'd make homemade cookies and invite us
over. She's an incredible person," Jeff concluded.
"Can we visit her now?" asked Abigail.
Simeon met Abigail's question with enthusiastic agreement, and I shared our
children's excitement. Both Jeff and I looked down at our attire.
"I knew this would happen one day," he said, rubbing his forehead. "First I
let you talk me into wearing pajamas in the van, and now you're going to
want me to actually go visiting, right?"
I kissed his cheek and an hour later, after leaving Lena's home, Abigail and
Simeon clutched the crocheted tree ornaments she'd graciously given them.
"I wish I had a gift for her," Abigail said, waving at the elderly woman
standing in her doorway.
The next morning, my children gave me strict orders not to come upstairs.
They said something about it being a secret mission for Christmas. After
rummaging through drawers, closets and toy chests, they came down the stairs
wearing toy construction hats, snow boots, and Simeon's play tool belts.
"What is all this?" I laughed. "Are you going to fix things around here?"
"Nope," Abigail smiled brightly. "We're going to give a gift to Lena.
Since she's too old and doesn't have anyone to do it for her - we're going
to decorate her house for Christmas!"
Her words brought tears to my eyes. "That's a wonderful idea," I said,
calling their father. "But I think you'll need Daddy and me to help. Is it
okay if we're part of your secret mission?"
"Sure!" they replied. Hours later, we stood with Lena, who couldn't have
been happier, on the sidewalk in front of her now brightly glowing house.
The lights we had found in her basement were shining with pride over
snow-capped arches and windows. Candy canes lined the sidewalk and welcomed
passersby to the Nativity scene that Abigail and Simeon had positioned on
the snow-covered lawn. A car cruising along slowed its speed to view the
lights. Two children peeked from the back window, their faces full of
excitement. Lena watched them, her eyes aglow.
It had been a day full of hard work, but it was worth every second to see
the joy on her face. Suddenly, she disappeared inside her home and returned
carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies.
Abigail reached her hand inside my coat pocket and clutched my fingers.
"You were right, Mom," she sighed, her dark eyes content.
"About what, sweetie?"
She leaned her head against my arm, and replied, "The best gifts are those
from the heart." I kissed the top of her head, so proud of her for using
her own heart to think of this, and then I turned to my husband. Our eyes
met and he smiled.
"Looks like decorating Lena's house can be added to our list of Christmas
traditions," he announced. The kids heartily agreed.