It was Christmas night. Time for bed. The old woman loosened the pins that held her
hair and let the long locks fall past her shoulders. Glistening jet-black strands had long
since faded into grey. They looked tired and worn, just like the woman sitting on the edge
of the bed working her comb through the tangles. As she pondered the quiet finish to her
Christmas, she wondered if this would be her last. Life is seldom easy for anyone, but it
is unusually tough for some. She nodded approval to that thought. Life had been difficult
for her. But she wouldn ¹t complain. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

Being a single mom was now part of her past. All of the kids were grown and gone. The
grand-kids stopped by occasionally, but not as much as she had hoped. And not today. That
was okay though, because as she had grown older, she had also grown more fond of spending
time by herself. It helped her make sense of all the confusing events that made up her
life.

As a child her mother had told her that her family tree came from royalty. But somewhere
along the line her family ¹s pedigree had slipped from blue blood to blue collar. Mom wore
the same dress every day, and dad always had the odour of fresh sweat. They were good
folks, though, quiet people who worked hard, prayed daily, worshipped faithfully,
practised the Ten Commandments dutifully and always maintained a practical grasp of the
big picture.

But she caused a crack to steak across the face of that big picture when she informed them
she was pregnant. "You can’t be! What are you saying? What were you thinking?"
they said.

She had tried to explain. But it didn’t make sense. "This kind of thing doesn’t
happen to girls who were brought up like you!" they said. And the whole scene was
complicated even more when she explained that the party responsible would not be marrying
her. An older suitor agreed too be her husband, and the invitations were sent.

THE START

The baby wasn’t early; the wedding was simply late. But a least the baby was legit, and
Mom had a man with whom she could plod through the uncertain future. They had taken up
housekeeping and parenthood in one fell sweep.

>From the beginning, however it was obvious that the boy was different. He was the kind of
kid who liked to draw outside the lines. He wasn’t spiteful or antagonistic to them, but
it was apparent from the outset that they weren’t going to have the luxury of coasting
through his childhood. They’d have to pay close attention and take good notes.

Siblings had come along (a couple of brothers, a couple of sisters) good kids,
conscientious, a credit to the household. From the outside it looked life a normal home,
but if you got to be privy to the banter around the dinner table, you realised that this
blended family struggled with some serious sibling rivalry. Their kids had a hard time
accepting her kid. As far as they were concerned, he didn ¹t fit in. He danced to a
different rhythm, chose peculiar friends and had a bad habit of showing them up.

Then her husband died. Too soon. Too young, Too bad. She had finished the job they had
begun together, but alone a widow, a single mom.

THE FINISH

She slipped off her dress, slid into her nightgown, then went to the basin to run a wet
washcloth over her face. As she climbed into bed she thought, I wonder what James is doing
tonight?

James was her second-born. he was a pastor down in the capital city. Big church. Tons
of responsibility. Lots of stress. Both he and his younger brother had gone into ministry.

It was hard to believe that when you stepped back and studied them against the backdrop of
the full picture. From the way they had treated their older brother, you’d think they
were’n ¹t qualified to take the call. They had been resentful of him, taunted him and just
about wrote him off.

"He’s nuts, Mom. He hangs around with strange people. He frequents the wrong side
of town. He’s making waves with the powers that be. If he keeps it up, we predict they ¹ll
take him down."

Their hunches had turned out to be right, half right.

She knelt beside her bed, whispered a few tender words towards heaven, then climbed
under the bedding. reaching over to the table, she took the small picture of the cross she
kept there and held it up into the faint light to study the image. It was hard to believe
that one’s woman’s life would get to witness this much majesty.

And with that thought, she let her mind drift back to her first Christmas, in the
stable at the end of the alley. Joseph had been such a trouper, a quiet and sturdy gift
from God, patiently helping her give birth to the Son of God. She closed her eyes to
remember the sight of the Saviour nursing at her breast‹the mystery, the miracle, the
message. She thought of the shepherds crowding around the manger, leathery men with
calloused hands arguing over whose turn it was to hold the King of Kings.

It was the Christmas that set the stage for the crucifixion. It was the Redeemer who
validated His identity through resurrection. It was the boy who died for his brothers. it
was the God whom those brothers now served. James, Jude, the disciples, that fiery apostle
called Paul. It was indeed too incredible for words.

She laid the picture of the cross back on the table and blew out the lamp. Pulling the
bedding over her shoulder, she rearranged her pillow and settled on her side.
Silent night, Mary. Holy night. All is calm, all is bright. Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep
in heavenly peace.