Christmas Eve: Unable to sleep, I started writing at 4:30 that morning and put a batch of mince pies in the oven at 6:30. I always bake mince pies that Bill wants. Bill’s darling mother stands behind me in my mind’s eye while I cut out rounds of crust with a martini glass.
“God rest ye merry, gentlemen . . .”
Sunday evening we went to the Benton House for an evening of folk carols performed by 82-year-old Gerry Gray and friends. Gerry no longer performs often. In spite of this great loss, she’s one of the happiest people I know. Her faith sustains her, and she is a child of joy.
“. . . let nothing ye dismay . . . “
Friends Jack and Mary Jane were sitting behind us, and I could hear them softly singing the beloved carols. Jack’s a retired minister who subs for others. He has preserved his cheerful demeanor in spite of in spite of fighting off leukemia.
My mother loved learning, but had to leave school after the eighth grade. She married when she was sixteen years old and bore seven children, two of whom died at birth. My parents and siblings were poor and hungry during the Depression. Poverty struck again when my father lost his eyesight when I was a freshman in high school. Mother had to go to work at the greenhouse as a floral designer and somehow eked out the money to help me attend college by babysitting at night. Never once did I see her depressed. Her faith was deep and abiding. Mother had a merry heart.
The morning after Christmas: The presents were all opened and exclaimed over. The pretty paper was thrown away. We ate and drank delicious things all day. Vicki, Tom and two of her sons who are grown men were here. Listening to Vicki and her boys reminiscing is stored away in my memory bank. Life doesn’t get much better than that! And now, after all the hard work and anticipation, Christmas is over.
I cannot equal Gerry, Jack and Ruth Kelly Gard Wallace, my mother, in their faith. However, I do have to wonder if they know something that others do not.
“. . . O tidings of comfort and joy . . . “
Mother had a magnet on her refrigerator that said, “Expect a miracle!” Miracles aren’t really all that rare. They happen all the time.
Expect a miracle! My mother was a miracle. No matter how difficult Mother’s life was, she remained a cheerful, hopeful optimist as do Gerry and Jack.
Expect a miracle! Each life is a miracle. Jesus and Mohammed were poor sons of the desert, but their lives influenced countless millions. Mother is present in her grandchildren and the children of her great-grandchildren and will be present in unborn generations yet to come.
Expect a miracle! America is a miracle. We are a free and prosperous people.
Expect a miracle! Our families and friends are miracles.
Expect a miracle! Wait and watch! Miracles may not come in the shape that we desire, but our miracles are there.
Expect a miracle! Christmas is a miracle.
Expect a miracle! I wish you a new year that will bring you the miracles for which you hope. wclarke@comcast.net