Derek sat as still as he could, which wasn’t very. His foot wiggled, his leg swayed, and his fingers drummed a rather rockin’ beat on the table. This didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention as his fourth-grade Sunday school teacher assumed. He heard everything she was saying.
It was military mailing time. Their Sunday school class helped pack candies and other treats into boxes, sealed them with tape, and labeled them for shipping to soldiers overseas. “For this term’s mailing, I want you all to make a Christmas card for your soldier. Then we’ll put them in the boxes with the other things.”
Derek knew exactly what he would send. He jumped up and ran to gather his supplies: multiple colors of construction paper, glitter-glue, scissors, and stickers. One look at the size of the construction paper and he knew he had a problem. “Is there any bigger paper?” he asked his teacher.
“Bigger paper? We’re just making cards, Derek. You don’t need bigger paper.”
“But it’s not big enough for what I’m making.”
She smiled in that irritating way that all teachers did when he talked to them and said, “I’m sure that what you’re making is great, but today we’re only making cards. Please try to keep your mind on your soldier and making a nice card for him.”
“She’s a girl.”
“Well, making a nice card for her then.”
Derek slumped into his chair. He was thinking of her. He looked at the paper again. Tape, that’ll solve my problem, he thought. He got his tape and went back to work. He didn’t have enough green, but figured that adding red would still be okay because it was also a Christmas color.
His mind so focused on his project that he didn’t realize Tom was talking to him. “I said, what’s taking you so long Derek. I’ve been done forever.”
Derek didn’t even look up. “I’m almost done now.”
“That’s what you’re making! Why do you always have to be so weird Derek? Besides it doesn’t even look like one.”
Derek looked at his creation. It is stupid, he thought. Why did I do this? He grabbed another sheet of paper and started to draw. He’d barely added a crayon line when the teacher announced that it was time to put the boxes together.
“Can I have a little more time? I’m not done.”
“No, I’m sorry; I gave y’all extra time already. Just sign what you’ve got and come on.”Derek sighed, scrawled his name and a quick note across the bottom of his original work, and stuffed it into the box.
***
“I don’t know, Ann. I just can’t get into Christmas. I know that it’s all about Jesus and I’m certainly glad about that, but,” Donna paused, fumbling for the words, “you know, it’s supposed to be snowing. And my family has a big party to decorate the tree each year. Cookies, hot chocolate, everyone has their special ornaments that they hang. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without a tree,” she lamented to her friend on the way to mail call.
She walked back to her tent with a white box under her arm. This was her third one this year and she always enjoyed getting them. Her cousin submitted Donna’s address to her church so Donna could receive care packages. She appreciated the gesture. The box reminded her that people at home did care. There were candies and sometimes homemade cookies. They even sent lotions and razors, priceless commodities out here.
She settled onto her bunk and put the box in her lap. She waited a bit, relishing the moment, then cut the packing tape. On top was a haphazardly folded stack of paper. She pulled it out, unfolded it.
In her hands, she held a cut-out construction paper Christmas tree. It hung like a cock-eyed accordion due to the folding. From star point to base, it was maybe three feet long. The tree part was an alternating green and red. Balls of various colors, cut out raggedly, and stickers of cartoon characters and animals simulated ornaments. Lines of glitter crisscrossed the tree like garland. “It’s kind of a Charlie Brown tree.” she muttered, “Beautiful.”
She noticed a note in childish writing at the bottom: “I bet you don’t have a tree out there, so I made you one. Derek.”
“Your heavenly father already knows all your needs,” she quoted softly, and cried as she hung it beside her bunk.
Scripture is Matthew 6:32 NLT
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Maddie Makes Cards (Christmas short story)
Maddie was ready. Before her on the table lay everything she needed to make the best Christmas cards ever. She would craft them, fill them with clever hand written messages, address them and actually mail them. This year she would not feel guilt as she received those cute cards with everyone’s family picture on the front. This year she would meet her friends, family, and, most importantly, her husband’s congregants with her head held high because she had fulfilled her Christmas obligations.
She’d started in October by confirming that all the addresses in her book were current. Good thing, too, Aunt Holly moved to Pittsburg three years ago and Maddie still had her listed in Orange Park. She’d congratulated herself on catching a possible faux pas that could have derailed her plans.
In November, she’d gone to an intensive weekend seminar on embossing and card making. Gary, her husband, was not overly thrilled with paying for a hotel so that Maddie could learn to make something they could buy at Wal-Mart for less than five bucks. He didn’t understand. A pastor’s wife had to meet certain expectations. This year everything would be perfect, to make up for all the years she had failed. When she returned home with six prototypes, he merely raised an eyebrow and said with his usual dry wit, “At that price, they should be edged in gold.”
It was December now, and she’d cleared her calendar for the entire day. She had eight hours to do nothing, but cut, glue, and write. She set the mood by lighting a cinnamon candle and putting some Christmas music in the CD player. After cranking up the tunes, she started to crop.
She proceeded with extreme care, making sure that everything was flawless. Ribbons were expertly tied and glued in place. After a couple hours her back was aching, but her stack was growing. There were cards of green, red, and blue adorned with trees, angels, and starbursts. She imagined people’s expressions as they opened these gems. She could hear them saying, “Wow, I had no idea Maddie was this talented. We should ask her send out the invitations for the annual bake sale.”
When she broke for lunch, she counted her cards and compared them against her list. She was horrified to find that although the day was half gone, she’d barely completed a quarter of the necessary work. “How can that be?” she moaned.
She immediately set back to work, ignoring her rumbling stomach. She also abandoned her notion of cleaning up as she went. Soon the table was littered with bits of paper, ribbon, and glitter. When the mess got in her way, she simply raked it off onto the floor. Her care in setting the embossing powder slipped, and she smudged more than one card. She grunted in frustration as she made replacements, resenting the wasted minutes.
She was deep in concentration when Brandi, her cat, wandered into the room. A dangling ribbon tempted the feline, and she perched on her haunches batting at the silver material. Maddie, horrified, yelled and swatted at the cat. As she did, Maddie hit the open vials of embossing powder with her arm and sent them flying. The black, gold, and silver dust covered the table, the floor, Maddie, and Brandi. Brandi, startled by the ruckus, ran away. Multi-colored paw prints snaked down the hallway.
Gary came home to find his dining room a Technicolor nightmare and his bride hysterical. “It’s all ruined,” she moaned.
He reached for a card and gently shook off the powder. “See, easily fixed.”
“They’re supposed to be perfect.”
“Historically speaking, Jesus is the only one who's managed to be perfect. 'It's the thought that counts,' is cliche for a reason. People will be blessed because you thought of them, not because your card looks perfect. Here, let’s see what we can salvage.”
They saved more than Maddie thought possible. With Gary’s help, she was able to get all the cards in the mail the next day. Despite all he said, she felt better knowing she had done it right this year.
When Christmas cards from their friends and congregants started arriving, she opened each with joy, unburdened from the guilt she’d known in seasons past. One afternoon, her mailbox was stuffed with cards. She pulled them out eagerly, only to recognize her own handwriting. Each one was stamped, “Return to sender. Insufficient Postage.”
She’d started in October by confirming that all the addresses in her book were current. Good thing, too, Aunt Holly moved to Pittsburg three years ago and Maddie still had her listed in Orange Park. She’d congratulated herself on catching a possible faux pas that could have derailed her plans.
In November, she’d gone to an intensive weekend seminar on embossing and card making. Gary, her husband, was not overly thrilled with paying for a hotel so that Maddie could learn to make something they could buy at Wal-Mart for less than five bucks. He didn’t understand. A pastor’s wife had to meet certain expectations. This year everything would be perfect, to make up for all the years she had failed. When she returned home with six prototypes, he merely raised an eyebrow and said with his usual dry wit, “At that price, they should be edged in gold.”
It was December now, and she’d cleared her calendar for the entire day. She had eight hours to do nothing, but cut, glue, and write. She set the mood by lighting a cinnamon candle and putting some Christmas music in the CD player. After cranking up the tunes, she started to crop.
She proceeded with extreme care, making sure that everything was flawless. Ribbons were expertly tied and glued in place. After a couple hours her back was aching, but her stack was growing. There were cards of green, red, and blue adorned with trees, angels, and starbursts. She imagined people’s expressions as they opened these gems. She could hear them saying, “Wow, I had no idea Maddie was this talented. We should ask her send out the invitations for the annual bake sale.”
When she broke for lunch, she counted her cards and compared them against her list. She was horrified to find that although the day was half gone, she’d barely completed a quarter of the necessary work. “How can that be?” she moaned.
She immediately set back to work, ignoring her rumbling stomach. She also abandoned her notion of cleaning up as she went. Soon the table was littered with bits of paper, ribbon, and glitter. When the mess got in her way, she simply raked it off onto the floor. Her care in setting the embossing powder slipped, and she smudged more than one card. She grunted in frustration as she made replacements, resenting the wasted minutes.
She was deep in concentration when Brandi, her cat, wandered into the room. A dangling ribbon tempted the feline, and she perched on her haunches batting at the silver material. Maddie, horrified, yelled and swatted at the cat. As she did, Maddie hit the open vials of embossing powder with her arm and sent them flying. The black, gold, and silver dust covered the table, the floor, Maddie, and Brandi. Brandi, startled by the ruckus, ran away. Multi-colored paw prints snaked down the hallway.
Gary came home to find his dining room a Technicolor nightmare and his bride hysterical. “It’s all ruined,” she moaned.
He reached for a card and gently shook off the powder. “See, easily fixed.”
“They’re supposed to be perfect.”
“Historically speaking, Jesus is the only one who's managed to be perfect. 'It's the thought that counts,' is cliche for a reason. People will be blessed because you thought of them, not because your card looks perfect. Here, let’s see what we can salvage.”
They saved more than Maddie thought possible. With Gary’s help, she was able to get all the cards in the mail the next day. Despite all he said, she felt better knowing she had done it right this year.
When Christmas cards from their friends and congregants started arriving, she opened each with joy, unburdened from the guilt she’d known in seasons past. One afternoon, her mailbox was stuffed with cards. She pulled them out eagerly, only to recognize her own handwriting. Each one was stamped, “Return to sender. Insufficient Postage.”
Thursday, December 9, 2010
They Don't Know My Name (devotion)
My oldest nephew was over at my parent's house the other night carrying the tree into the living room and getting boxes of decorations out of the attic. Thinking of what a model grandson he was being, made me think of what he was like as a little boy- A Handful!
Once, when he was young, he was out with my mom being a total pistol. She had already exhausted her usual arsenal, and resorted to shame. "Aren't you embarrassed to be acting this way in front of all these people?" she asked.
"Grandma,” he replied, “they don't know my name." Summing up his attitude in life, no one knows me; I can act however I want.
We Christians think the same way sometimes. “I can snap at the cashier, no one knows my name. I’ll cut that car off in traffic, no one knows my name.” The problem is that while no one may know your name, they often know that you are a Christian. Your cross earrings or necklace, your God's Gym T-shirt, or bumper sticker tells them.
2 Cor 5:20 says that we are Christ's ambassadors. Our behavior affects His good name. While everyone around you this Christmas is arguing over parking spaces and the last Elmo doll, please remember your actions either bring Him glory or bring Him shame. Be a worthy ambassador and lift up the name of Jesus in all you do this holiday season.
Once, when he was young, he was out with my mom being a total pistol. She had already exhausted her usual arsenal, and resorted to shame. "Aren't you embarrassed to be acting this way in front of all these people?" she asked.
"Grandma,” he replied, “they don't know my name." Summing up his attitude in life, no one knows me; I can act however I want.
We Christians think the same way sometimes. “I can snap at the cashier, no one knows my name. I’ll cut that car off in traffic, no one knows my name.” The problem is that while no one may know your name, they often know that you are a Christian. Your cross earrings or necklace, your God's Gym T-shirt, or bumper sticker tells them.
2 Cor 5:20 says that we are Christ's ambassadors. Our behavior affects His good name. While everyone around you this Christmas is arguing over parking spaces and the last Elmo doll, please remember your actions either bring Him glory or bring Him shame. Be a worthy ambassador and lift up the name of Jesus in all you do this holiday season.
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