Priscilla wrote a nice Christmas story I thought I'd share with you. It's long so we'll post it in a few parts.
A Christmas to Forgive
It was December 23, and bitterly cold. The snow blew, and crunched beneath the feet of a lone traveler. He had been walking through the wind and snow for hours. The sun had long since gone down, and he had to keep his head bent so that the snow wouldn’t get in his eyes. Oh how he hated to leave his warm house, where the fire crackled merrily, and the smell of warm cinnamon bread tickled his nose. But most of all, he hated to leave his beautiful wife. They had been married for only four short weeks, and had been excited about their first Christmas together. But now, all their dreams were shattered. Poor Edward had received a letter, and it was the letter’s content that spurred him on through the blinding snow.
Exhaustion and fatigue slowed him down, but he didn’t dare stop for fear that he wouldn’t me able to start again. Then, up ahead, he saw a dim light. Lord, Please let it be the boarding school. He prayed silently, as he approached it. As he wearily climbed the steps and crossed the porch, he saw through the window that the light was the slowly dying flames in the parlor’s great fire place. He knocked, on the door, and was answered by a very sleepy headmistress, Miss. Lansky. After a few exchanged words, she led him up the stairs, and into the bedroom, of her youngest pupil.
In spite of the noise, little Lizzie slept on. She didn’t hear the headmistress enter the room with the tall young man clad in heavy boots, and an overcoat, nor did she feel their gaze as the two of them beheld her rosy cheeks, and angelic smile framed in by such beautiful golden curls.
“Can’t it wait till morning? I would hate to awaken her now, and send her out in that miserable snow,” whispered Miss. Lansky.
“I suppose it must,” he whispered back, as they gently shut the door behind themselves, and descended the staircase. “I never dreamed that she could be so beautiful though,” he added, almost as if to himself.
“You must be famished, I’ll warm you up some stew.”
“That would be most appreciated. I haven’t had time to eat since supper last night,” he said, then he bowed his head, and prayed for the food. When he had been sufficiently fed, Miss. Lansky, showed him to the guest room, then retired to bed. Edward, took off his coat, boots, and hat, then knelt down to pray.
“Oh thank you Father, for helping me find Lizzie. Please help me know just how to deal with her, and her mother, in a loving way. Please keep my wife Emma safe in my absence. And please, help me get a job, so that I can provide for her like I ought to. Thank You, for your guidance and protection. Amen.”
As he stood to his feet, one could not help but notice from the worn and thin condition of his trouser knees, that he had spent many hours, on his knees, in prayer. The patched, and re-patched condition of his shirt, spoke of many long hours of work, and not enough money. Yet in spite of his rough hands and crude clothes, there was a certain air of dignity about him. His black hair was neatly trimmed, and his manners were very polished. His eyes radiated a love for life, and a joy, that very few posses. Yet, even in his shabby garb, his manner spoke of a good upbringing. He was definitely well-bred from high society, but circumstances had taught him to be humble, and meek. As Edward crawled under the warm quilt, he realized how worn and weary he really was, and he drifted into a deep sleep, his last thoughts were of his beautiful Emma. Yet, even in his sleep, his furrowed brow spoke, of a life, of pressure and pain.
- To Be Continued -