Well, here's the last part of the Christmas story. I hope you enjoy! And have a Very Merry Christmas Eve!
Christmas Eve came sooner that year. Or at least that’s how it seemed to everyone. Last minute shoppers lined the streets as everyone rushed to finish up shopping before everything closed. A chill in the air brought the promise of snow on Christmas morning, and you could almost feel the excitement and anticipation that seemed to drift in the wind.
The bells above the post office door jangled as Lydia stepped outside, a bundle of envelopes and packages in her arms. She’d come just in time to collect them before they post office closed its doors for the remainder of the holiday. Trying to avoid any slick places on the pavement, she crossed the street and tugged on the rusted handle of the red 1975 Ford pickup that she’d driven for as long as she could remember. It opened reluctantly, and she tossed the packages and letters on to the middle seat. Her hands finally free, she decided to grab a cup of coffee for the drive back home. She really needed to get the heater in the truck looked at, but with one that old she wasn’t sure there was much anyone could do about it anyway.
Glancing at her phone, she realized she had ten minutes before it would close.
“Oh darn.” She slammed the truck door and began waking in direction of the coffee shop.
As she walked down the sidewalk, the distinct sound of caroling met her ears. Just outside the bookstore, a group of high schoolers from one of the local churches was singing. Inside the window beside the tree, Mrs. Meyers listened, a beaming smile lighting her face. It was the perfect picture and Lydia wished she had time to capture it on camera. Two very different generations both enjoying the Christmas season. It was the perfect picture of what Christmas truly was all about. Bringing people of all ages, backgrounds, and histories together to enjoy and celebrate Christ’s gift to the earth.
The warm lights of the coffee shop welcome her, and she opened the door and stepped inside. Behind the counter, the barista gave her a smile. “Cutting it close again, ehh?”
Lydia gave a sheepish nod. “I just got done at the post office and realized I wanted something warm before I drove home.”
With a laugh, the barista grabbed a cup. “It’s no problem. Your usual?”
“Yup, with peppermint.”
The ‘usual’ really wasn’t all that complicated. Coffee and cream with caramel and peppermint. It was sweet and simple and perfect for cold days like today.
“All right, here it is for ya.” Lydia reached across the counter and grabbed the cup, and pulled out her card to pay. The barista waved it away.
“It’s on me today. You have a Merry Christmas.”
Lydia hesitated, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The barista smiled. “Now go so I can close up.”
“Yes ma’am.” Lydia grinned and made her way toward the door. “You have a Merry Christmas!”
The door shut behind her and she walked down the sidewalk toward the truck. Old snow crunched under her boots, and steam from the coffee she held in her hands wafted up into the air around her.
She was halfway back to the truck when she passed the small, historic church that sat off to the side, a bit behind the shops. In front there was a simple manger scene, and a cross covered in Christmas lights had been erected up near the steeple. In contrast to the busyness around the town, it was simple and quiet. It didn’t demand attention or make people stop and look. It was simply there, waiting to be discovered.
Just like the first Christmas Day.
Lydia started up the steps and tried the door. To her surprise it was unlocked, and she stepped inside.
The sanctuary was quiet, and two candles glimmered alone up near the pulpit. A Christmas tree and greenery were set up near and around the piano, completing the Christmas decor.
Making her way to the nearest pew, Lydia took a deep breath as she sat and listened to the silence. In a manger, the Christ child had been born. He had been welcomed by shepherds, and angels had announced his birth. But no one else had known.
The greatest gift ever given, a baby born to be a Saviour, a baby born to die. He was the reason they celebrated.
“Lord help me to never take You for granted.” The whispered words sounded loud in the silence.
The lights and traditions; the stories and memories; the shopping and the people, those were a few things that made Christmas special. But they weren’t the most important.
For several more minutes she sat there, sipping her coffee and enjoying the quiet. The minutes ticked by without her noticing and outside, the sun sank lower in the sky.
A sudden squeaking of the hinges startled her, and she almost dropped the remainder of her coffee. With a gasp she jumped to her feet and turned toward the door.
“Did I scare ya? The lady at the coffee shop said she’d seen you come in here.”
The face was still hidden in the shadows that were cast by the dancing candlelight, but the voice … she recognized that voice. But it couldn’t be. Not now. Not here.
He stepped forward and she could see him. His cap sat at a jaunty angle, and his backpack was swung over one shoulder. Unruly blond hair brushed his forehead and his dark brown uniform looked freshly starched. Dark grey eyes smiled at her from behind a pair of glasses.
“Clarence.” The word was a whisper and she put a hand over her mouth, not daring to believe it.
He chucked. “In the flesh. Do I get a hug on Christmas Eve?”
His words gave wings to her feet. Setting the coffee precariously close to the edge of the pew, she rushed into his arms and buried her head in his shoulder.
She could feel his laugh as his arms closed around her, pulling her close. His uniform was rough against her cheek and his strong hands held her tight. He smelled like woodsmoke and aftershave, the same way he always had. And there within his arms, Christmas was perfect, and she was home.
Home for Christmas.
After what felt like far too short a time, she stepped back and gazed into his eyes. "You're home. You're really here. How in the world…"
He quieted her by putting a finger over her lips. "I'll explain later but right now let's not talk." He reinforced his words by pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
She kissed him back, then rested her forehead against his. “I don’t believe it. I just …”
“Shhhh. It’s true. I’m here and that’s all you need to know.”
She nodded, blinking back tears. He folded her into a second embrace.
As she stood there in her arms, she remembered. “Before we go home, there’s someone I need you to meet.”
Lydia stepped back and grabbed her coffee, not letting go of his hand. She led the way out the door and down the steps. The town had begun to close in preparation for Christmas. Lights in store windows had dimmed, and some had been shut off entirely. But near the town square, one shop still shone brightly. And atop the tree in the window, a star made of barbed wire stood proudly.
Inside, Mrs. Meyer was shuffling around, setting books back in their places and finishing tidying up for christmas.
The door was still unlocked, and the bells above it sang a merry tune as it opened. Mrs. Meyer glanced up, and look of surprise filled her face, quickly chased away by a knowing smile. “This is the second time I’ve had a man in uniform walk through these doors during Christmas time.”
She walked toward them and clasped Clarence’s hands in hers, tears shimmering in her faded blue eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you, my boy.”
***
Outside the shop, unseen by human eyes and oblivious to the snow that had begun to fall, another man in a uniform that spoke of a forgotten era watched as the Army pilot embraced the white-haired lady. A smile crossed his face as he nodded. Yes, until the good Lord called her home, this Clarence would help take care of his bride. She was in good hands. It may have been a man from another branch of the military in another era, but it didn't matter.
It was all the same. The military looked after its own, and he could rest now knowing she would be taken care of.
He stepped forward into the light and gave a crisp salute. Then as soon as he had come, he was gone. Above the tree, the barbed wire star caught the fleeting glimmer of a shooting star as it streaked across the sky.
And as it had for over seventy years, it stood watch over the small bookshop and its inhabitants for yet another Christmas.
***
Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind. Should all acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne
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