EXCERPTS FROM "TWAS
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS"
A Touching True Story!
A
soft entreating voice rose above the clamor of a sink full of sudsy
dishes, “Mommy, I’ve tried my best to be good all year. How come there are
no gifts for me under the tree?”
Lura turned away
to busy herself in the kitchen sink. She couldn’t bear for her daughter to
see the tear trickling down her weathered cheek. It was not a lone
droplet, for others were quickly welling up, threatening to wash over her
eyelids. It had been four weeks and still no mail from the States. Each
day, G.T., her missionary husband had taken the long wearisome trek down
to the Bahamian wharf, hoping against hope that perhaps by some miracle
there would be a package, maybe even a small check from supporters back
home. If only they had just a few dollars to buy some little gifts for the
children. But weeks had turned into days and now… it was the day before
Christmas.
Nightfall was fast approaching. Stores had
already closed for the day. Even if money was to arrive in today’s mail,
now there would be nowhere to buy toys. While earlier in the month she had
dared to dream of presents under the tree, of late she had lessened the
scope of her prayers to merely ask for groceries. She didn’t have the
heart to tell the children that tomorrow would not even bring the joy of a
Christmas meal for she had no meat, no festive food within the pantry. Not
even the fragments of a cake could be found to bake at least a semblance
of dessert.
Life had not always held such hardship.
Watercolor nostalgia washed along the shores of her memories. For what
seemed a timeless moment, her mind drifted back to her girlhood days where
dinners of plump chickens, piping-hot mashed potatoes, overflowing
pitchers of creamy gravy and billowy coconut cream pies were plentiful.
Her mother’s crammed cupboards of home-canned fruits and vegetables were a
far cry from her empty ones.
When Lura first met the dashing man from
Mississippi who later became her husband, he was an impassioned preacher
and she a shy, yet enraptured schoolteacher. When the visiting evangelist
sashayed into the county with his spirited style of oration, he’d set the
town spinning. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his persuasive charm
and zealous sermons.
All the girls had
swooned over the articulate, velvet voiced Reverend, but typically, Lura
had chosen to retreat into the background. Had her mother not invited the
bachelor home for Sunday lunch, she would not be living today with him
along a foreign coastline. Then again, neither would her eyes be swimming
in a sea of tears. As much as Lura knew she wanted to support her husband
on the missionfield,
the pain of not being able to
provide her little ones with a proper Christmas was almost more than she
could bear.
The sorrow that
swarmed her heart as if with the marauding jaws of piranhas left her
feeling stripped of strength. She had tried to be strong for her family.
Last night she had tenderly held her husband’s head in her arms as he wept
under the veil of darkness. She had lovingly countered his guilt when he
agonized over the family’s plight. She had gently reminded him that he was
not responsible for their predicament. Together, they would bravely
continue their work amongst the natives. Once again she had reassured him
that the morning’s light would surely bring that long anticipated
financial breakthrough. When questioned by her children regarding the
absence of presents, she had courageously instructed them to remain
resilient and hopeful. That is until today… today, she had no strength
left to give.
The gentle tug on her skirt hem by her
youngest baby Paul transported Lura back into the stark world of hungry
children and withering tropical heat. Scooping up the diapered bundle,
Lura glanced around for Joanna. Ahh, there she was… The ashen haired
five-year old could be seen seated on the floor with her older sister
Lenita. The duo sat looking wistfully at the decorated, but conspicuously
gift-bereft tree.
The strains of a
dialogue between two older siblings wafted in from the front porch. Big
sister Claudine mused...
You will laugh and cry through this touching true story
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Learn
the true story behind a touching short novel and how a
real-life situation served as the catalyst to start a progression of
incredible events.
