Christmas Treasures

SNOW HAD JUST BEGUN TO FALL AS ISABEL DROVE ACROSS TOWN to the parsonage. Isabel hoped that it wouldn’t pile up too much and make it daunting for people to come out tomorrow to church. But a fresh coat was welcome, making the world clean and new again, quite in keeping with the real meaning of Christmas, she thought. A new life. A fresh start. A clean slate.

She had been so rattled by the events of the week—first the offer to be the minister here, then the e-mail from Nicaragua—that she’d hardly worked on her Christmas sermon. She had a rough draft, of course, but she would definitely make this an early night and have some time later, when she got back to her room, for the editing and polishing.

The truth was, she felt too much static in her mind right now to think clearly and focus on her writing. A good talk with Ben should help clear that up.

The parsonage looked very charming, dusted with snow. A large wreath decorated the front door and the bay window glowed with the warm lights within, framing the family’s Christmas tree.

“Isabel, so glad you came to see us tonight.” Carolyn greeted her warmly at the front door and led her inside. Ben came out of the living room to welcome her, too. He looked very well, she thought. You would never guess he’d had open-heart surgery just a few weeks ago.

“Come right inside and warm up.” He led her into the parlor to a seat near the hearth that was roaring with a large fire. A row of stockings hung across the mantel. Isabel saw Ben’s and Carolyn’s names, but also many others, which she assumed were the names of their children and grandchildren.

“Wow, Santa makes a lot of deliveries here, doesn’t he?” She forced a smile, but the sight made her a little homesick.

“Oh yes, he does. I thought as I got older I wouldn’t bother with stockings at all. But I was mistaken,” Carolyn admitted with a smile. She had brought in a tray of cheese and crackers and a dip with vegetable sticks arranged around it on a plate. Now she handed Isabel a glass of red wine.

“Live and learn,” Ben said. “We wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s the great pleasure of life, watching your children grow up and have children of their own.”

“They usually congregate at my parents’ house. I have three older brothers, all married. One stayed in Minnesota, another is in North Dakota, and another is in Portland, but he comes back when he can. And there are loads of nieces of nephews,” she added with a laugh. “I seem to be the only real wanderer, though I do get home for Christmas when I can.”

“I do miss them,” Isabel admitted. This was the hardest time of the year for her in that respect. She was otherwise usually very happy in her independent lifestyle. “We talk over the phone a lot and e-mail practically every day. And this year, we’re going to have a video chat on our computers so I can join them for a little while at least.”

“It is amazing, all these high-tech innovations,” Ben said. “When I was young, we used to see predictions about telephones with TV screens and I thought, well, maybe someday, but probably not in my lifetime. Yet here it is. I can’t keep up.”

“I can hardly manage, either. But I have some good tech support. That boy Max, who’s been helping Carl at church, helped me set up the Internet phone program. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“He wants to continue working after school as a helper. The trustees have agreed to give him a small wage. I think that was very good of them, considering how they felt when he broke into the church,” she noted.

“Yes, they have. With a little coaching,” Ben added, glancing at Isabel. “Very admirable. You made the right call there. I think everyone can see that now.”

Which brought the conversation back to her relationship with the congregation and the decision now set before her. But Isabel didn’t think it was a good time to go into that matter. She could see that Carolyn was just about to serve supper.

“Everything’s ready when you are,” Carolyn said, walking into the dining room. Isabel saw her add a silver salt and pepper shaker set to the table, which suited the setting of china, crystal, and fine flatware. A beautiful centerpiece of white roses mixed with holly and pine branches decorated the center.

“Oh my goodness! You went to way too much trouble.” Isabel followed Carolyn into the kitchen to see if she could help. “Ben said you were having a quiet supper tonight. No fuss.”

“Nonsense. We’ve been wanting to have you over for dinner, and I’m so happy you could come tonight,” Carolyn said graciously. “I just hope you like fish—I forgot to ask.”

“Yes, I do. Any kind is fine with me. Whatever you made smells delicious,” Isabel said honestly. Carolyn had prepared some sort of fish stew with tomatoes and peppers and what appeared to be loads of other vegetables in a fragrant, spicy sauce.

“Good. Because with Ben’s heart problem, I really have to watch his diet. I’m specializing in heart-healthy recipes. No more steak and potatoes,” she said in a low voice.

“I heard that,” he called from the next room. “She’s very tough, Isabel. You have no idea. I have fish and salad coming out of my ears . . . and dry popcorn. Totally dry. Lord, help me.”

Isabel enjoyed a wonderful meal and more amusing, interesting conversation. Ben and Carolyn’s company totally distracted her from the dilemma that had brought her there in the first place, and also from the pangs of missing her family and memories of her husband.

After coffee and dessert—a low-cholesterol meringue treat that was light and delicious—Isabel helped Carolyn clear the table. But once they reached the kitchen with the first load of dishes, Carolyn shooed her away.

“Thank you for your help. I can handle the rest. I think Ben is waiting to talk to you in his study,” she said politely.

Isabel wasn’t sure how the couple had communicated this plan, though they did seem so in tune with each other. She had no doubt that a little quirk of the eyebrow or a certain look she never noticed had passed between them at some point during dinner.

Isabel soon found Ben in his lair, a small, comfortable room with dark burgundy walls, many bookcases, and a large desk in one corner by a window. There was also a wood-framed couch, upholstered with a southwestern design. Ben sat in a leather chair. The lighting was subdued and conducive to talking, she noticed as she sat down on the sofa.

“So,” he began, “if you don’t mind my curiosity, what are you thinking about becoming our new minister? Have you come to any conclusions?”

“No, not really,” she admitted. “Partly because I’ve been so busy getting ready for tomorrow’s service, I haven’t had a quiet, still moment to figure out how I really feel about it.”

“I understand. Sometimes my mind feels like a snow globe that someone has shaken up, with everything whirling around inside. I have to wait for it all to settle and become clear again. Then I can see what I need to see there.”

“That’s it exactly,” Isabel said. “And now something else has been tossed into the murky mix. A while back, when I was recovering from the operation on my leg in Minnesota, I applied to a mission in Nicaragua. Their initial response was that there were no openings for someone with my skill set. But I just got an e-mail from the director. They have a spot for me now and have invited me to join them.”

“Oh . . . I see. That does change the picture radically, doesn’t it? Now it’s not just a question of whether you want to accept the post as minister of this church.” He sat back and was quiet for a moment before saying, “You know, there are some scientists who believe that we make up our minds about choices in a split second. Even life-altering choices like this one. The rest of the thinking-through process is just justifying that gut response,” he added with a smile.

“I have prayed on this, Ben. I do believe God will make the right path clear to me. But in the meantime, I know I have to do some work, too. To sort this out as best I can. The past few weeks at this church have been a real learning experience for me. I think I came with certain expectations and quickly realized that I had made wrong assumptions about a lot of things.”

“For one thing, that a quiet little church in such a pretty town would be spiritually . . . complacent. The congregation here is anything but. They’re extremely caring, so many truly seeking their connection with God. I’ve been impressed and humbled to see my expectation disproved.”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t deserve any credit for admitting that. But you deserve a lot of credit. Your influence all these years has shaped the spiritual nature of this congregation. I really wonder if I would be as strong a spiritual leader as you’ve been.”

“That it would be easier than working in a mission setting. It’s more comfortable physically,” she acknowledged. “I can take a shower anytime I like and drink clean water and eat nourishing food. I can sit and watch TV with Vera in her cozy living room,” she joked.

“But a minister at a church like this wears so many hats,” she continued. “And gives so much to so many. It’s not just the sixty-minute service on Sunday. It’s the other six days of the week, too. I’ve loved all that,” she quickly added. “And I’ve really learned a lot these past weeks. In some ways, I think it would be good for me to stay here, to take on a role that challenges me in a different way and doesn’t come easily. I know that any minister would be truly blessed to be called to serve this congregation. But I’m torn, because I love the other work, too, and I know I’m good at it.”

“I see. That is a difficult choice,” he agreed. “It’s a choice between two positive paths, though, don’t you think? Sometimes, Isabel, it seems to me that there is no perfectly right choice. There are always positives and negatives on any side of a question. But once we make a choice and start down that path in a committed way, we grow into the decision. It’s a sort of synergy. The path changes us, and eventually it is the right choice, even though there might be some qualms along the way.”

Isabel nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. I think that’s true. I wasn’t that sure about going to Haiti when I left the Midwest,” she admitted, “but it quickly became the right path. How about you, Ben? How did you decide to retire? Was it mainly because of your health?”

Ben couldn’t answer right away. His mind seemed to be having a sudden attack of snow globe. This conversation with Isabel had brought up so many feelings about his own decision to leave the church, and now here she was, asking him that question directly.

“I guess it was a process,” he said finally. “For the last few years, Carolyn and I would occasionally touch on the topic of my retiring, but we never really got around to deciding when that would be. I was feeling drained the last year or so, wondering if I was still up to this job, and thinking, well, maybe it’s time. Then the heart attack brought everything to a head,” he noted. “So . . . it all came together. I’m still getting used to the idea.”

He didn’t know what to say. “From time to time,” he finally admitted. “But that’s only natural since it’s Christmas, and I really haven’t been able to start down my new road yet,” he quickly added. “It’s still a big transition period for us. It will be, until I’m totally recuperated and we can travel and do some of the things we’ve talked about.”

He tried to sound enthusiastic about those plans. But he was fairly sure he hadn’t fooled her. Part of him still longed to be at the pulpit again, or in his office, fielding phone calls, working side by side with the congregation on their many outreach programs.

“That’s just it,” Ben agreed. “But I’m getting stronger every day. And I’m hoping for a new fishing pole for Christmas,” he joked. “More surf casting is at the very top of my retirement to-do list.”

“I will tell you this,” he went on in a more serious tone. “Whatever choice you make, you must follow your heart—and spirit. If you do decide to leave Cape Light, I know that this church will be missing out on a great minister. I think they all know that, too.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but if I decide not to take the post, I don’t think the congregation will take it all that hard. Not in light of your leaving. You’re someone they’ve practiced their faith with and known for years, who has shared their joy at baptisms and weddings, who has visited and prayed at their sickbeds and blessed their dead, who has been such an intimate part of their lives for so very long. I’m just a blip on the screen.”

Ben blinked, feeling his eyes tear up at her poignant description. He quickly took out a handkerchief and pretended to cough. “Yes . . . well . . . I miss them all, too,” he confided. “But it’s time to make way for someone new. I, for one, will be sorry if you don’t stay. But I’ll be happy for you, no matter what you decide to do.”

“I’m glad.” It’s helped me, too, Ben thought. It’s helped me see that I’m not nearly as settled about retiring as I thought. Perhaps I need to talk this through again with Reverend Boland after Christmas.

Ben and Isabel joined Carolyn, who was sitting in the living room with a cup of tea. A book rested in her lap, but she wasn’t reading, just gazing at the fire.

“This has been a wonderful Christmas Eve. Thank you both so much,” Isabel said. “I’d better be going. Big day tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming, Isabel. This is one Christmas Eve that Ben has been able to relax and really enjoy, without worrying about the big service tomorrow,” Carolyn said. “I guess we’ll see you in church.”

“Yes, see you in church,” Ben added. See you up behind the pulpit, where I used to be. He knew that part would be hard tomorrow. But he would get used to this. What had he told Isabel? A person had to grow into their decision and then it would be the right one.

“FINALLY.” REGINA CREPT DOWN THE STAIRS, CAREFUL TO AVOID THE third step from the bottom that creaked loud enough to wake the neighbors. “They’re both asleep,” she reported to Richard with a sigh. “We can bring the boxes in.”

Brian had gone up to bed at a decent hour, with only a few complaints. He was all excited about his gifts and the fresh snow falling outside, but went out like a light. Maddy went to bed later, of course; she usually stayed up reading or listening to her iPod. But when Regina had peeked in, the lights in her daughter’s room were off and Maddy was curled on her side, deeply asleep.

“Okay, let’s make Christmas,” Richard said cheerfully. As Regina reached for her jacket, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “The snow is getting heavier out there. No need for both of us to get wet and cold. I’ll bring everything to the door, and you can put it under the tree.”

The boxes were wrapped in big black trash bags, and also protected by a tarp over the back of the truck. Richard brought them to the door, and Regina removed the bags carefully, so she wouldn’t tear the paper or bows or get anything wet with the random bits of snow that seemed to get inside despite their best efforts. By the time Richard carried in the last package, the carton with the train set, she had arranged everything under the tree and was already hanging up the new Christmas stockings she had bought for everyone.

“I wish we had our old stockings, but these aren’t so bad.” She hooked the loop on the last one and secured it to the mantel. “I found embroidered names for the kids. Madeline was not easy.”

“They look fine. Very old-fashioned,” Richard said. “The kids won’t mind, as long as they find good surprises inside.”

“Right, it’s all about the presents,” she agreed. “It will be the usual stuff—chocolates and candy canes, little trucks for Brian, fun socks and hair clips for Maddy . . . Oh, and a flatiron. She really wanted that.”

“I guess,” he said doubtfully. “Oh, I have something for her stocking, too.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a gift card. “I couldn’t figure out what kind of clothes she likes. She exchanges everything I pick out now. This is for a store she talks about.”

“Maybe a little coffee . . . and some cookies? I could use a sugar-and-caffeine boost.” He held up two pieces of train track, looking as if he’d never set eyes on them before. “This might take a while. I have a diagram here somewhere . . .”

Richard and his diagrams. Regina was sure he had made a whole stack of them for this project. It was going to be a long night.

He glanced at her, surprised by the offer. “Would you? I really could use a hand. I don’t want Brian to find me asleep in the middle of the rug and only half these trains set up.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Regina promised. She left for the kitchen to make coffee, feeling uncommonly lighthearted and very much in the Christmas spirit.

The pile of gifts under the tree was a thrilling sight. One that she’d imagined and hoped for . . . but wasn’t quite sure would really materialize. It was amazing what you could do if you put your heart into it and kept a positive attitude, she thought. This was something she had wanted so much. Now, here it was, just as she imagined, all coming true.

Except for one thing, she reminded herself as she filled the coffeepot. She and Richard had been united in this effort, but their future was still hazy and uncertain.

Lately they were getting along so much better. That was a miracle in its own right, she thought. Take tonight, for example. Their entire conversation and working together so easily would have been impossible just a few weeks ago. But they’d been able to put aside their grievances for the sake of their common goal: to give the kids a good holiday.

A holiday that would soon be over, and along with it, their truce. She would be sorry to see it go. Couldn’t they get along like this all the time and rebuild their good feelings for each other—day by day, all the way into the new year? Was that even possible?

Regina set out some of the homemade Christmas cookies on a small plate. Well, it took two. She knew that much by now. She was willing, she realized. At one time, she really had given up. But here in Cape Light she’d had a change of heart without even realizing it. Did Richard have some glimmers of those same feelings?

If they could get that old toy train set up and running by tomorrow, didn’t their marriage stand a chance of getting back on the right track again, too?