This Christmas Morning, Installment 19

Chapter 7, Part 2

The fact was, Jana did feel like she was doing that great a job with anything. She couldn’t handle it all like mother did. “Clean house. Cheery disposition. Smiling children. Christmas baking.” Jana began to wonder aloud. “Homemade - I love that word but I hate that word. It just reminds me of everything she was that I’m not.”

 She did not see her father’s hand reach slowly up and turn his hearing aid on high. “I’m trying to make this such a perfect Christmas for dad... for everyone, but I can’t do it. I just can’t. How did you ever do it, mom? How did you do it all? Or did you? Was that just my perception as a kid? God...” She snapped up. “Am I talking to God or my mother? As a kid I used to get them somewhat mixed up. Am I mad at her for dying or at God for taking her or at myself for not being able to do anything about it? Fix it. Fix it. Oh, I wish I could find some peace.”

 Jana spied a small silver music box on the coffee table and lifted the lid. Nothing. No sound. She gave it a quick wind. A gentle tinkle of bells, the crackling fire and the smell of her mother’s perfume still lingering in her robe sent her to a memory she didn’t know existed. She was safe and warm in mother’s arms. Mother looked so beautiful in the orange firelight. So radiant. Almost like an angel. She was rocking her own little angel to sleep.

 “Mamma,” asked a little Jana, “what is heavenly peace?”

 A much younger Grandpa stepped from the shadows and sat nimbly at the foot of the rocker, leaning his shaggy head against his daughter’s face, tickling her nose. “That’s when you and your brother are finally asleep and your mother and I have a little quiet in the house for a change.”

 “Papa!”

 “No!” Grandpa smiled. “It’s true. We sneak past the hall, tuck you in, kiss you on the foreheads and tell you how much we love you. Then we tiptoe into the kitchen for a cup of tea and thank the good Lord that you came into our lives. And in those few moments each night in this quiet house - and only for those few moments - your mother and I come about as close to heavenly peace as anyone outside of heaven, I suspect.”

 The child attempted to braid her father’s dark curly hair. “Mamma, do you have to die to sleep in heavenly peace?”

 “Is that what’s kept you awake tonight?”

 “No. Yes.” She looked into her mother’s eyes and bit her lip. “What happens when you die?”

 Melissa gave her darling a squeeze. “Oh, honey girl, you don’t have to worry about that for a long, long time.”

 Papa turned and lifted her chin with his finger. “I think it’s kinda like this: You know when you sometimes fall asleep in the car on the way home from town and a few hours later you wake safe and snug in your own bed? How do you get there?”

 “You and mamma carry me in.”

 “How do you know?” he asked. “You don’t see us.”

 Jana searched into his eyes. “I just know.”

 “Well, when you die, I believe you go to sleep and your heavenly father carries you safely into the warmth and light of heavenly peace.”

 “How do you know?”

 “We just know,” said Melissa.

 “We just know,” Papa nodded.

 “When I go to heaven, will I sleep in heavenly peace?” asked Jana.

 Melissa squeezed her darling. “Yes, sweetheart. Oh yes.”

 “Why?” 

 “Because heavenly peace is resting in Jesus,” said Melissa. “Trusting in Jesus. And wherever Jesus is, there is peace.”

 The moment was broken by baby Roy crying from the other room. “We should tell Jesus to go in and be with the baby,” said Jana.

 Papa smiled. “Then we’d all have a little more peace.”

 “Will you be there? In heavenly peace?” asked the child.

 Her father nodded. “We’ll probably get there long before you.”

 “To get things ready?” asked Jana. Both her parents nodded. Jana’s little forehead scrunched and she looked up at her mother. “You’d better go first.”

 “Why’s that?” asked Melissa.

 “Cause daddy might not know what to do to get things ready for the rest of us.”

 Papa burst out laughing. “She’s right. You’d better go first.”

 The baby’s cry became louder. “Shhhhh!” said Melissa. “Peace! Peace!”

 

 The music box wound down to silence and Jana’s head hit the brick of the fireplace. She shook herself, closed the box and rose. Something drew her to her father. She took his hand and pressed it to her lips. He stirred. “Oh, Missy. No more pie. You’re going to make me wider than I am tall.”

 “Good night, dad.” Jana wiped a tear from her eye. “And if mom can spare some more time from your dreams to come over and visit mine for a while tonight, I could use her company. Especially tonight.” She turned to go.

 “I’ll ask her,” whispered Grandpa.

 “Thanks.” Jana turned away, then back, wondering. “Good night, dad.”

 “Good night.”

 “Love you, dad.”

 Grandpa emitted a two syllable sigh that could have been interpreted as a “love you” if you stretched.

 It was enough for the woman but not enough for the little girl.