Silent
Night
Carl sat in his
wheelchair by the fireplace, oblivious to the stockings hung there with care
and the Christmas tree nearby in the corner.
The snow was coming down outside in flakes so big they looked like
miniature umbrellas. The unmistakable
smell of fresh cookies filled the house, and “Silent Night, Holy Night” came wafting
out of the stereo, but he never heard a word.
How could it possibly have happened?
Who would’ve thought he would be
an eighty-five year old man, or stuck in a wheelchair, or that he would have
outlived his beloved Dora?
Three
years before, she had started to drift away.
It was imperceptible at first, a little less energy, a little slower in
conversation…but she had always moved and talked with such vigor that a little
decrease just brought her back to everyone else’s level. But it had gone downhill rapidly after
that. Sixty-four years together, not
counting two years of dating. He still
grinned when he thought about that first date.
He’d knocked on the door of Dora’s house to pick her up for a movie,
nervous as all get out. Dora’s very
stoic Norwegian father had answered the door, stiffly introduced himself and
invited him in. While still in the
hallway, the question was asked: “Young man, what are your intentions in
dating my daughter?” It was like a
line from an old movie. Carl nervously
tried to break the ice with a joke as he answered, “Intentions? I’m just taking her
to a movie, not marrying her for heaven’s sake!” Without a moment’s hesitation, Dora’s dad
had re-opened the door, swiftly ushered Carl back outside and shut the door in
his face. So much for breaking the
ice! It had been several months before
Carl could convince him that he could be trusted with Dora.
“Dad?” His daughter Sarah’s worried face appeared in
front of him, and broke into his thoughts. “You okay?” Sure, he thought. As okay as you could be, being an old man trapped
in a wheelchair at your grown child’s house on Christmas Eve. Sarah had moved him from Florida to a
retirement center near her house outside of Denver after Dora died, and Carl
still resented his dependence on others.
Carl snapped off a “Fine, I’m
fine” answer with enough of an edge to it that he saw the hurt flash across
Sarah’s face. He wanted to make Sarah
walk away, and at the same time hoped she wouldn’t. Sarah stuck around. Something was on her mind. “Dad, I don’t want to bother
you…but I’m really worried about Seth.”
Nothing
new there. Carl’s grandson Seth was a
young man now, a senior in high school- if he ever made it to graduation. Carl had never known him well, living across
the country and all. The kid had been in
trouble his whole life, or at least since his dad was killed by a drunk driver on
Christmas Eve when he was nine.
Counseling, camps, new schools- nothing ever seemed to help. Carl had to hand it to Sarah- she’d really
given it a good try, but Seth was a losing proposition.
Carl’s
thoughts drifted back to when he himself had been nine years old. HIS dad hadn’t been killed by a drunk driver-
but he might as well have been. He’d
left Carl and his three siblings and mom one rainy day and never showed up
again. Never. Carl had spent every Christmas until he was
married secretly hoping his dad would reappear.
He never did. Never.
“Dad?”
Sarah’s voice was still waiting for an answer.
“Huh?
What’s wrong with Seth this time?”
‘I don’t know, for sure. I just feel like I’m not getting through to
him at all. He’s getting more and more
distant, never laughs, doesn’t have friends.
And he was supposed to be home four hours ago and I haven’t heard a
word. I’m worried.” She paused. “Will you pray with me?”
Pray? That was something Carl hadn’t done for a
long, long time. Not since it became
apparent that Dora, his Dora, was going to die.
He hadn’t quit believing in God exactly, but he certainly had quit
believing that God was of any practical use.
Or really cared much for what went on in his life. Before that, he’d prayed often. And easily.
Dora had taught him that. She was
always stopping to pray for things, little or big, always offering prayers of
thanks, always praying for people. Over
the years it had rubbed off, and Carl found himself turning to prayer often,
and naturally. He’d even been asked to
lead worship at church, and offer prayers for others. He’d visited people in hospitals and prayed,
he’d listened to friends in difficult places and prayed. He remembered all the times that he and Dora
had prayed with Sarah and their other children when they were growing up. Anyone who knew Carl would have said he was a
praying man. But that was three years
ago. Before Dora. What was the use?
“Dad?”
With a deep sigh, Carl took Sarah’s hand. It was warm, too warm perhaps, with anxiety
and care. Carl began to pray. He didn’t know what to say, so he started
with the obvious. “Lord, we need your help.”
It was slow going at first, but the words soon began to flow more
easily, and Carl felt a familiar feeling come over him, a little tingle, a sense
of not being alone, of somehow being in the right place. His prayer grew bolder. He complained to God just a little bit as he
prayed, wondering where He had been lately, but mostly he prayed for Seth. He was vaguely aware that Sarah was crying as
she held his hand. “Lord, you know I’m eighty-five, and I’ve enjoyed things in life that
no one has a right to expect. But Seth
has only started living. He needs to
know that there is something to live for. He needs to know that You care about
him. And…” Carl hesitated. “And he needs to know that we do too. Bring him home safely. And fill this place with your presence. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Sarah
kept hold of his hand, and tears streamed down her face. Carl had no idea where that prayer had come from.
Sarah kissed him, and walked out to the
kitchen. Carl looked out the window,
finally noticing the snow.
His thoughts
drifted off again, to a snowy day in the winter of 1944 during the war. His army battalion was holding ground in the
Huertgen Forest in Germany, awaiting their transportation out. Spirits were high, it was the end of their service
and they would be back to the States in just a couple weeks. They were in a
snowy valley, watching the trucks arrive to pick them up when German snipers opened
fire from the trees. Men fell all around him, and Carl felt hot fire enter his
right leg in two places. It was excruciating, and he couldn’t stand. Others continued to fall near him. Ahead of him, his best pal Tommy, nearly at
the door of a truck, turned and saw Carl trying to crawl across the
ground. Ignoring the sniper fire, Tommy
sprinted back to Carl, picked him up and dragged him into the truck. As Tommy climbed in after him, he grunted and
fell heavily forward, also hit in the leg.
As it turned out, Carl’s wounds were clean and would eventually
heal. Tommy wasn’t as lucky. The bullet
had hit an artery, and he died in Carl’s arms.
Carl had never been able to tell anyone about it…not even Dora.
“Dad!” Sarah’s urgent voice brought him
back to the present. “That was the hospital calling. Seth was in some kind of accident!”
“Bad?” Carl asked, alarmed.
“Some stitches, but he’ll be okay. They’ve already sent him home in a police car.”
The
words were barely out of Sarah’s mouth when there was a knock on the front
door. Sarah opened it to find a smiling police officer with an arm around Seth
on the front porch. Seth’s right eye was
swollen almost shut, and a bandage on the cheekbone made it clear where the
stitches had been sewn.
“Lucky kid you have,” said the officer,
smiling. “He was innertubing over on 41st. A careless driver plowed through the snow at
the bottom of the hill…Seth here just missed going under his wheels. He can
tell you the rest, I’ve got a call to make.
Merry Christmas.”
Sarah
threw her arms- gently- around Seth. The tears appeared in her eyes again.
“You okay?” she asked gently.
Seth
was more animated than she’d seen him for a long, long time.
“I…I am.
Except I can’t open my eye, and there’s 8 stitches underneath it. But the officer was right…this was a close
one.”
“Seth, what happened?” Carl’s voice boomed across the room from the
fireplace.
“Oh, hi Grandpa! I didn’t know you were here. Well, a bunch of us were sledding down those
steep hills on 41st, and the road was supposedly closed at the bottom. I was flying down the steepest part, I mean
flying, and when I got near the bottom here came a four-wheel drive pickup out
of nowhere. There was nothing I could
do. I was headed to hit it right in the middle.”
“What happened?”
Seth
grew quiet, even thoughtful, and swallowed hard.
“There was one kid standing near the bottom
who saw what was going to happen. He
came sprinting over and tackled me right off the innertube just before I would
have hit the truck.”
“Omigosh!” Sarah exclaimed. “who
was it?”
“It was that goody-two shoes Culver kid that
plays basketball.”
“Josh Culver?
“Yeah.
I don’t know him very well, always seemed a little,, well…stuck up. Anyway, he threw himself in the way just in
time. He bounced off me and hit the back
tire of the truck. Broke his leg pretty
bad.”
Seth’s
voice had a note of puzzlement in it, almost like he couldn’t believe what Josh
had done.
Carl
broke the silence. “And how about your face? How did you get cut?”
“When Josh pushed me out of the way, I
clipped a sign at the bottom of the hill.”
“What sign, honey?” Sarah asked.
A
sheepish look took over Seth’s face.
“The one that said “Street Closed: No
Sledding.”
Carl
and Sarah looked at each other, neither of them sure whether to be mad or laugh
out loud. Carl decided to laugh. Sarah joined in, and even Seth saw the
ridiculousness of the whole thing. He
collapsed on the chair next to Carl. He
looked closely, as though for the first time, at his grandpa and then his mom.
He heard the Christmas music and smelled the rich aromas from the kitchen.
Sarah
finally said “Well, Christmas Eve dinner
is ready to go…shall we eat?”
Carl
spoke up. “That’s a great idea. But first
I think we ought to stop and pray. We have
a lot to be thankful for.”
The
three of them held hands and Carl prayed with energy, his voice cracking with
emotion and thankfulness. When he said “Amen,” Seth cleared his throat,
hesitating.
“Mom?
I know you’ve fixed a killer meal…but is there any way we could postpone
dinner a little? I was wondering if we
could go over to the hospital and see Josh.
He’s going to be stuck there overnight.”
“Gee, Seth, I don’t know. With Dad here and all…”
Carl
snorted and sat up straighter.
“Are you kidding? Of course we need to go to the hospital, all
three of us. I need to meet the young
man that saved my grandson. And when we
get back, Seth…I have a story I need to tell you. I actually know a little something about a
friend saving your life. Now, where did
you throw my coat, Sarah? It’s cold out
there, you know…must’ve snowed a foot!”
After
Seth had helped Sarah get his grandpa into the car, he loaded the wheelchair
into the trunk and shut it. Before he
got in he looked around. The air was
cold on his face. The snow everywhere
looked like smooth white frosting on a cake.
It was quiet. He felt more alive than he had for a long time. Everything was new. Silent night.
Holy night.
