THE FRAGRANCE OF CHRISTMAS – by Michelle Gott

The flakes that lazily sauntered out of the sky, lighted softly as if surprised to land, as surprised as the little girl was when a flake dotted her eyelash and another hit her tongue, both immediately disappearing. Her giggle seriously brightened the blinking Christmas lights as they danced on the blanket of newly fallen snow. ‘Mummy, look!’ Fancy exclaimed. ‘God dropped another kiss!’ She giggled again, and Faith thought the crystalline perfection of her child’s laughter was the best sound ever and surely could be heard as an echo in the silent night. It was so peaceful she heard the fall of flakes.

‘Flimsy, can you grab Momma’s purse,’ Faith tossed over her shoulder, reaching into the backseat for her purchases. She needn’t bother. She’d have to make another trip or two anyway, or maybe her husband would help. The lights from inside glistened, and Faith knew Blaze and their son, Buddy, were placing the tree in its stand so they could decorate it later. Peering through the late afternoon light, she saw the shadow of Fancy splayed on the snow-dappled lawn. She looked like an angel; wings furled in a field of snowflakes. ‘Fancy! You’re getting wet! Flimsy, don’t worry about carrying Momma’s purse. Let’s get you girls inside; it’s freezing!’

Flimsy already had the purse tucked over her shoulder, Faith noted. The purse was almost bigger than she was, she was so tiny. Fancy suddenly danced around her feet. ‘I wanna carry too! I strong! Pease, Mummy,’ her eyes looked like midnight in the shadows from the car. Faith handed her a small sack and watched as her daughter wrapped tiny mittens around its contour. ‘Tank ‘ou, Mummy,’ her delight sounding like a bell, as she stepped in behind Flimsy. ‘Don’t forget Fancy!’ she cried.

Faith followed her two daughters up the snow-packed walk, the waltz slow and meaningful as Fancy meandered with her attention focused on carrying the sack and Flimsy nearly tripping on the purse now trailing behind her in the snow. Flimsy was singing her own rendition of a Christmas carol, the purse bouncing off her heels. ‘Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight, Ho!Ho!Ho! We wish you a Merry Christmas! and if you ever saw him, you would turn around and run…Mommy, is that how it goes? The reindeer song?’ Flimsy abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk; Faith almost plowing her over.

Faith laughed, ‘Something like that, sweetheart. I’ll get the door,’ just as her oldest, Buddy, pushed the door wide, so they could enter. ‘Thanks, Buddy!’ she exclaimed. ‘Wow, it feels great in here. It’s cold out.’ Her glasses had fogged over, and as Faith dropped a pile of sacks on the carpet, Blaze removed them carefully from her face, planting a kiss on her lips.

‘Oooh, gross!’ Fancy cried, while Buddy mimicked, ‘I saw Daddy kissing Santa Claus!’

‘That’s not how that goes, Buddy!’ Flimsy retorted, and he grinned while Faith found his eyes over the heads of his little sisters. She silently glared while slashing her hand across her neck.

‘Daddy kissed Sanna?’ Fancy demanded and Flimsy sighed, ‘No, silly, boys don’t kiss boys. And ‘sides, Daddy has never seen Sanna Claus…have you, Daddy?!’ she suddenly inquired, looking very distraught and concerned.

Blaze laughed, ‘No, baby girl. Daddy has never seen Santa Claus.’ His eyes found Faith as he winked. ‘Well then, here we have it! It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!’ he exclaimed joyfully. ‘Keep your coats on, kids! We are going to spread some cheer by caroling, and then, who wants to decorate our tree later tonight?’

Buried in the woods, snow piled itself against the door as if it were trapping someone inside. The flakes fell furiously, harshly piling one on another. A small light reflected through a pane onto a drift, portraying a maddened image that weaved in the wind as the thin glass rattled in the blasts and gusts and icy snow. Puffs of smoke from the chimney choked on the cold night air. Inside the cabin felt like climbing into a car parked in a garage, and while his breath wreathed his head because it was so very cold, at least he wasn’t a frozen stump like the ones balanced on the wood pile. It had taken him much too long to knock the logs loose to bring in for this night’s fires. The stoves were struggling to turn it around.

He was too.

He should have gone and collected her kids, his nieces and nephew, from their last day of school before Christmas break. They’d be trudging up the driveway soon. They would also be hungry, cold and ticked off that yet another Christmas dream had face-planted in the snow; this year, by far, the worst.

‘The children?’ he heard her whisper even though he couldn’t see her. So frail and fragile, she hid beneath a mountain of threadbare blankets and pillows. Despair and frustration anointed with a little anger and exhaustion caused him to clamp his mouth tight. Had she not chosen to stand with that loser of an individual, her life would be quite different today. And so would his! Instead, here he was, in the cold, after his own long day, packing trucks, at his real job, praying to a god he didn’t believe in for a miracle he knew would never come, because he couldn’t bear to leave her to struggle alone with the cancer nor leave the only children who might ever acknowledge him to carry loads they were never meant to carry.

‘I’ll go get them and save them a couple trudges,’ Job said almost to himself. ‘The house should be warming up soon.’ She had nodded off again. He knew she couldn’t hear him but he had to spit out what was on the tip of his tongue. ‘Hope, you are going to have to make some decisions soon. You can’t keep hoping, no pun intended, for a miracle. You are running out of time, sis.’ It was like talking to himself; she no longer had the strength to stay alert. The cancer had to have spread; Job suspected there wasn’t much time left. What would become of the children?! Why, he couldn’t take them! He could barely care for himself. He liked his SPACE. They weren’t his responsibility, after all. But it sure didn’t help that he loved them and had been the only male presence in their lives that had given a hoot. They adored Uncle Job. If only Dad and Mom hadn’t disowned her over that man! They would be amazing grandparents, and the children would have a stable and loving future, if the parents hadn’t slammed the door on Hope’s decisions years ago.

Just then, Jack shoved through the door, closely followed by Wren and Francie. The shock of cold startled Hope awake. ‘What?!’ She sat up with a start, her eyes like black holes in her hollow face. ‘Jack! Be careful! Your mother!’ Job cried out, immediately sad, as he watched the boy retreat inside of himself. Francie began to cry and Wren pulled her little sister into a hug.

‘I’m sorry, kids,’ Job began. ‘It’s just, your mom isn’t feeling very well, and it is so da-derned cold in this shack…I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay, Uncle Job. I get it. I need to be more careful. Slow down, Jack! Francie, shut up!’ The boy’s face had grown red with emotion.

‘UMMMM. I’m gonna tell Momma! Shutup…that’s a bad word, Jack!’ Wren declared, running the words together as if they were one. Then softer, she added, ‘She’s just sad. One of her friends told her if she prayed really hard for something, it would happen. So she has been praying for Momma to get better and that Christmas would come to our house too.’ Wren looked around the small cold cabin, her eyes landing on the lump that was their mother buried beneath blankets on the sofa. ‘Doesn’t look like her prayers worked,’ Wren whispered.

‘Like there’s even a God who listens to prayers,’ Job muttered to himself. If there was a God, he wasn’t loving and kind, nor did he care for the needy and bent over. He would have intervened in this home had there been a loving God like people namedrop about. His sister was Hope-less, Job thought sadly, and now her children were too, soon to be left without a mother, a no-good father, and no Christmas to look forward to. Nope, no answered prayers nor God in this shack.

Just then, a sturdy knock startled everyone into silence. Weird, Job thought. No one ever came here, this deep in the woods to a house that had been forgotten where loss lived. He and the children shared furtive looks before Jack maneuvered his way to the door. Cautiously he pulled it open, and for a moment, a swirl of snow was all that could be seen. Eerie…then suddenly,

“Joy to the world! The Lord is come. Let earth receive her King.
Let every heart, prepare Him room. Let heaven and nature sing…”

‘Close the door, Jack,’ Job said sternly. ‘We don’t need none of that around here.’

‘No!’ Francie whimpered and their mother stirred on the sofa beneath the blankets.

Wren threw open the door wide, turning to glare at her beloved uncle. ‘Maybe there is a God Who hears our prayers, Uncle Job. Christmas has come to the cabin, Francie; just like you prayed!’ she exclaimed in awe.

Job had to admit, this was a little freaky! He went and stood in the doorway, where a mother and father and three little kids braced themselves against the wind and snow, caroling their hearts out. They had to be freezing, but they didn’t let it show. He wished he could invite them in but how embarrassing would that be?!

‘Merry Christmas! Come in and get warm!’ Wren shouted through the driving snow. Great! thought Job. At least by now he had a raging fire in the grate and some orange slices on the table so social services wouldn’t remove the children for lack of care.

‘Did you see that, Blaze?! Can you believe there are people who actually live in those conditions?!’ Faith asked in astonishment as they drove away. Tears had dried on her face, but she still felt the tightness. The children had hugged them when they left, had thanked them for stopping by! The smile on the mother’s face, Faith knew she would never forget; a smile that cost everything to give.

Blaze shook his head; his heart hurt. He almost wished they hadn’t gone caroling there. It had taken the nog out of his mug. One couldn’t see people suffering, and pretend you didn’t know, act like it wasn’t happening.

‘Baby, we got to do something to help them,’ he said with certainty, not surprised by the vigorous nodding of his wife’s head. ‘Jesus would not let us enjoy our Christmas knowing these people have so little and need so much.’

‘I want to give them my presents,’ a tiny voice whispered from the back seat.
‘Yeah, me too,’ Buddy stated emphatically. ‘I bet Jack likes the same stuff I do!’
‘Me f-ree,’ rang Fancy. ‘Don’t forget Fancy!’ she cried.

‘Momma, can you tell Santa to go to their house with our presents instead?’ Flimsy piped up again, her voice tiny still.

The warmest bittersweet sadness dripped from Faith’s eyelashes. She had so much to be thankful for that she seldom thought about. She took so much for granted. How blessed they were, and yet her precious children and husband had the same heart beating within them that beat in her body too…the heart that beats for someone else. They had their work cut out for them, but this truly would be a Christmas to remember.

The wind beat against the shack and a new blanket of snow enveloped it ethereally. Smoke twirled in the sky like a graceful ballerina who pirouetted on satin shoes. Job threw a couple more logs in the woodstove. At least the shack would be warm when the children woke up. That, in itself, might signify Christmas morning since nothing else likely would. He had stayed over after bringing pizza and soda last night; he’d never seen the kids so overjoyed or thankful, except for maybe when that crazy family had shown up to carol. He smiled to himself, remembering, “A slumber party, Uncle Job?! For serious?” Their delight had been magnetic, pulling him stuck tight. He’d brought his dime-store DVD player, connecting to their tiny TV, and after he’d popped popcorn, they’d huddled around it like a new release, giggling, sighing, singing all the way through ELF and IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, as if they had never watched either movie before. That had been it though; the only Christmas he had hidden up his sleeve. Guess God wasn’t coming through this year after all. Or maybe he was a little behind with all the other prayer requests fancier, more deserving people were demanding this year. You know, ‘God, I need a Maserati so I can get there faster and make the most of my time working for you.’ ‘All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth, God.’ Or, ‘I’ve been a horrible, unavailable parent this year, God, so can you make sure little Johnnie gets the newest X-BOX to make up for my absence? Please, God!?’

Just then, Job heard a noise on the porch. Quietly he stood from his knapsack on the floor, feeling like a million years old. He opened the door, immediately slamming it shut in disbelief; then reopening it slowly as if it had been a dream. Cold air and snow entered the shack as if invited. One by one, each kid came to life as winter assaulted them.

‘Come here!’ Job heard himself command, so again, one by one, they meandered to the door. ‘Quickly!’ again, he commanded.

Sharp intakes of breath. Then, ‘O my! God came!’ Francie squeaked.
‘He came looking like Christmas!’ exclaimed Wren.

Jack looked like he was going to pass out, and from the sofa, weeping filled the room. ‘Momma,’ Jack ran to his mother, ‘Look!’

The tree invaded the cabin once Job got it settled inside. He plugged in the strand of lights and the children readjusted the decorations. Job held Francie up and she pinned the angel on the tiptop of the tree, and the fragrance of Christmas ate the room. Politely, the children opened the gifts one by one, oohs and aahs overriding the gasp of overwhelming emotion. Even Hope mustered the strength to lay out the trimmings for a Christmas breakfast that had been left by the door and soon Job found himself putting together this toy and powering up that one and reading instructions for another.
‘Do you really think someone will come?’ Job whispered to Hope, and silently, eyes too big in her face, watered and spilled as she slowly nodded.

And sure enough, at two o-clock sharp, the same vehicle that brought the carolers drove up to the cabin, the family pouring out like stuffing from the turkey. Job tucked the thought away for safe-keeping but secretly he had figured it might have been them.

‘Mommy, we know them! I didn’t know they were coming over to play!’ Francie clapped her hands in delight.‘Wow! What are they doing here? It really is Christmas!’ Wren exclaimed in the same voice she had been exclaiming in all morning.

Jack just shook his head and Hope wept some more.

Buddy reached the house first, a wrapped gift secure under his arm. ‘I brought you something, Jack!’

‘What is it?’ Jack enthusiastically asked before he added in a whisper, ‘Buddy, I’m sorry! I don’t have a gift for you.’

‘That’s ok!’ Buddy answered with the same enthusiasm, then said simply, ‘Honestly, I didn’t have one for you either, but we wanted to bring our new friends Christmas presents so our parents let us pick out one from each of ours for you and your sisters.’ Emotion speckled Job’s vision; he was certain he heard that right as the two little girls marched in carrying more gifts. This was too much. It might make a believer out of him, after all.

‘Whoa!’ Blaze cried, as his eyes climbed the height of the tree. ‘You’ve been busy, man! You did a great job in a short amount of time!’

Job just smiled, then, ‘You ain’t a-kidding! Here, let me help you with that. Wait! An entire dinner, all the trimmings?!’ The grin on Faith’s face was bigger than the Grand Canyon, he thought. It likely would never be spoken aloud how this day had developed, and the children would never be the wiser, but Job was touched beyond any word created in the English language. God truly had answered a prayer and Christmas really had arrived at a shack in the woods.

‘That was Flimsy’s idea,’ she admitted, with a rueful grin. ‘We have one more surprise for you. Hope, honey, are you able to walk to the door?’ Hope nodded, tears still trickling like a freezing stream down her face. ‘Come here, Job,’ Faith beckoned as she threw open the door.

‘O, my God! You are for real!’ Hope whispered breathlessly, and now, the tears had found their way to Job’s eyes too. ‘Mom? Dad?’ her voice was so fragile as their parents pulled her into a gentle embrace.

The mother softly spoke, ‘Merry Christmas, sweetie. We had no idea until Faith came to see us. They attend our church. We’re here now. Come here, Job. What a good big brother you have been!’

‘Ho!Ho!Ho!’ the man bellowed, ‘Merry Christmas! Come here, kids; come meet your grampa!’ All six children, even those not belonging to Hope, scurried toward the arms of the older man with the merry eyes and warm smile.

‘Don’t forget Fancy!’ the littlest angel cried, hurrying to catch up.

Someday, someone would ask her, Faith knew, what Christmas meant, and she would retell this story. How three children had changed the lives of three other children forever. And not her children doing the changing but being changed. That, she would say, is the fragrance of Christmas.