Marian held her breath and opened the box. She peered inside. Just as she had thought. The clinking sound was the pieces of her porcelain church – the centerpiece of her tiny Christmas village. Broken. She could hardly believe it. This village had survived four moves, three children and decades of holiday unpacking and repacking. Now her favorite piece was shattered.
In spite of herself, tears welled in her eyes. She backhanded them. It was a little sentimental to cry over a toy building. Yet, she knew the reason. The Christmas village had become a special symbol to their family through their growing-up years. She remembered the clamor of little voices and the flurry of little hands as her children helped set up the tiny cottages, the trees, the carolers, the general store, the school house and especially the church with real windows and a beautiful belfry. Oh, how they admired it every year when the set was plugged in and each miniature building was warmed with an inner glow. If the Christmas village was out, the world was right. It was a tradition that the children cherished. And so did she.
Now, Marion wondered what would be the response of her three adult children? Would they remember the significance of the village? Would they care if a piece was broken? Would they think her ridiculously sentimental to mention it?
And then she remembered with a pang that Alexa was not coming home for Christmas. It was just another symptom of her drift, both from the family and from her spiritual moorings. Although she had never been openly rebellious, she had seemed to struggle more than Clay and Caitlin in the teen years. Now that she was grown, it was as if she preferred to walk politely away from her faith. And the little broken church Marion now held seemed to illustrate the fractured state of their family. Closing her eyes, Marion breathed a prayer for her daughter.
Gently, she arranged the intact pieces in their customary places and hurried to put away the boxes. She was going to her eldest daughter’s house for the traditional lunch with the grandchildren on the first Monday of Christmas break from school.
On the drive to Caitlin’s house, Marion continued her talk with the Lord, asking Him to work on Alexa’s heart, surrendering her once again to His care and love. She knew how headstrong Alexa could be. Even her mother’s heart began to doubt in the face of such obstacles to faith. She and Frank would just have to keep praying and waiting for Him to work.
At lunch, Brett and Bethany kept up a lively conversation about their school Christmas parties and the toys they wanted for Christmas. They were precious youngsters, high-spirited, but well-mannered, thanks to Caitlin. Giving them goodbye hugs two hours later, Marion promised to take them shopping the next day, along with Clay’s little girl. They would buy ornaments for the tree.
Driving home, Marion was thinking about replacing the broken church. She really needed to get that done as soon as possible. Maybe Caitlin and Clay wouldn’t notice the change when they came for Christmas dinner.
Marion entered the kitchen and laid her purse on the counter. She slipped off her coat and walked to the hall closet to hang it up. Then she remembered her cell phone was in the coat pocket and fished it out, glancing at the screen. A new voice message. Strange that she hadn’t heard the phone ring.
Marion opened her voicemail and listened. She knew the voice right away. “Hi, Mom. This is Alexa. The most incredible thing just happened. I had to call and tell you. I was walking past a gift shop today before lunch and in the window display was a Christmas village like we used to have. But the church was broken; I guess somebody dropped it. But what’s really weird is that God talked to me, Mom. Really. He said that’s what I was doing to our family and to my relationship with Him – breaking it. I’m . . . sorry, Mom, so sorry. Can I still come home for Christmas? I need to talk with you and Dad; I need to sort things out. Oh, and Mom, I bought a new church for our village. I know you already have one, but this one is kinda special. I hope you understand. And Mom . . . I love you.”
As always, your writing moves me! God's gift to you, you share with us! Thanks!