The Sparrow Found A House (Sparrow Stories #1)

by Jason McIntire

  Chapter 22

  An Unusual Christmas

  The Sparrows’ moving day was planned for January so that they could get through Christmas first – though the only decorations for their celebration were a bunch of very stuffed moving boxes lining the walls. Presents were kept to a minimum on the Sergeant’s advice - “Go with meaningful instead of expensive.” Handmade was very big in their home this year, even for the decidedly un-crafty Jessie.

  The family exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve so that they could celebrate “Jesus’ Birthday” without distraction in the morning. But distraction is just what they had, when the phone rang at eight o’clock. After a brief conversation upstairs, the Sergeant called them all together.

  “Kids, that was your mom’s friend Alyssa. She finally decided to call us, even though she wasn’t supposed to. She has left Social Services, and someone else has taken over her job. Alyssa says that this ‘someone else’ has been contacted again regarding our family. This lady is planning to come down here as early as tomorrow morning. She is, shall we say, not such an amenable type as your mom’s friend.”

  “Oh my,” Jessie panicked quietly. “What are we going to do?”

  “I think we’ll do what Jesus’ disciples did when people started persecuting them in their hometown,” the Sergeant told her. “Do you kids think you can be ready to move by tonight?”

  With anxious glances at the still-incomplete packing, they tried to absorb the thought.

  “But Dad,” Chris said, “won’t Grandma just call Social Services in the other county?”

  “I didn’t mention this before,” said his stepfather, “but we did some checking, and we happen to know that the new jurisdiction is run with a very different mindset from the one here. I don’t think they will be inclined to cause us any problems, regardless of what Grandma says. Since we have not been contacted by the authorities, we officially don’t yet know we’re under any sort of investigation. So there’s no legal problem with us leaving town suddenly – only a practical problem.”

  “You mean getting all our stuff packed?” Chris asked.

  “That’s one,” the Sergeant agreed, “but what I’m really thinking of is the fact that there’s no place open to rent a moving truck on Christmas day.”

  Everyone jumped as the doorbell rang, but it was only Ben and Mrs. Scroggins, taking them up on their invitation to Christmas breakfast. Quickly they were filled in on the issue with Social Services, the possible solution of moving early, and the problem of a truck.

  “The truck I can help with,” offered Mrs. Scroggins. “One of our neighbors out at the farm has a big truck he uses in the summer for shipping peaches. Leo and I used to borrow it on occasion. I’m sure he’d let us use it today. Of course, someone will have to go out there and get it.”

  “I guess that would be me,” the Sergeant volunteered. “Chris can come with me and drive our van back.”

  “You’re busy packing,” Mrs. Scroggins objected. “Why don’t you let me go with Chris? I drove big trucks all the time with Leo. Also, Ben and I will be staying on here for another few weeks, so if there’s anything you can’t fit or get ready today, just leave it here and we’ll store it until we can bring it with us later.”

  “I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Mrs. Sparrow put in gratefully.

  “It’s more the other way around,” Mrs. Scroggins laughed. “You’ve given Ben and me something we haven’t had in years – a family.”

  After a faster-than-planned breakfast and prayer, everything began to move very quickly. The twins, still in pajamas, went upstairs to finish packing their rooms. Jessie helped her mother load up the kitchen, while the Sergeant and Ben went out to hunt for more empty boxes at local loading docks. Chris and Mrs. Scroggins lost no time in setting out for Salem, their van already loaded to its ceiling with such boxes as were ready. Every one they moved now was one they wouldn’t have to stuff in the truck later.

  The drive to Salem Farm went quickly for Chris, absorbed as he was in thoughts of all that had happened, and all that was now happening with such speed. When they drew near the farm, Chris felt a twinge as he passed the place where he had wrecked the van last month with Mr. Dimes’ truck. And there was the old coot himself, coming the other way in a still-unrepaired vehicle. Chris was downright scared of the man, and unconsciously swung wide as he avoided the other driver’s eyes.

  “What do you do about people like Dimes?” Chris asked aloud.

  “Come again?” asked Mrs. Scroggins.

  “The man I hit, who cussed us out. What do you do about him?”

  “What does the Bible say to do about people who curse you?”

  “Bless them,” Chris answered readily. “Which we did, on the way home. The Sergeant said we needed to, so we prayed for him. But that still didn’t make him any less scary to me. I can’t believe he’s going to be our neighbor!”

  “Dimes has lived here for a long time,” said Mrs. Scroggins. “Leo and I had our own run-ins with him as a neighbor. He was always a problem, and he never changed, but eventually we found out a few things that helped us understand him better.”

  “What’s there to understand?” Chris wanted to know. “He’s a mean old man, right?”

  “Tell me,” said Mrs. Scroggins gently, “how do you think you would fare, without Jesus, if your wife died of cancer, then you remarried and your second wife left you and took your daughter and most of your money? If one of your sons wasn’t speaking to you, another was in jail, and the third was mentally challenged?”

  Chris thought for a moment. “I’d probably be a mean old man,” he admitted. “Maybe even meaner than Dimes.”

  “Doesn’t knowing that change the way you look at Mr. Dimes?”

  “Well, it makes me feel a little sorry for him. But he’s still scary.”

  “Yes he is, I know. But he’s scary because underneath he’s hurt and bitter. We don’t have to let Mr. Dimes push us around or harm our family, but we do have to show him the love of Jesus whenever and however we can. Even if we ourselves never see any fruit from it.”

  “Mrs. Scroggins,” Chris asked suddenly, “would it be okay if I called you ‘Nana’ like Ben does?”

  “Of course, Chris – whatever you like.” Chris’s new adopted grandmother looked intensely pleased. Her pleasure continued as they reached the neighbors’ place and arranged to borrow the peach truck with no trouble. After quick-fixing a flat, they set off once more for Reliance, with “Nana” leading the way.

  Arriving home about lunchtime, they found the packing in an amazing state of near-completion. Mrs. Scroggins managed to back the truck right up to the garage door, and the guys started loading it at once. On Christmas Day this was a very conspicuous activity, and Chris feared – somewhat unreasonably – that Social Services would somehow get wind of what they were doing and show up early to stop them. The others must have been thinking the same thing, because they were all working with a quiet urgency to get out of there and across the county line.

  Earlier in the month, boxes had been packed with unhurried care and thoroughness, each labeled with an approximate weight and a complete list of the things inside. Today the boxes weren’t labeled at all. The packer simply grabbed an empty one, stuffed it with anything that would fit without breaking, slapped a run of tape across the flaps, and handed it down the line. Chris, Ben, and the Sergeant loaded the furniture in record time, racing each piece out to the truck and literally running back to get another. There was room for the sofa, beds, table, chairs, washer, dryer, and a few miscellaneous pieces. The items left would have to wait for a future second load, once they figured out what all they would need in the new house.

  Shortly after eight o’clock, it dawned on the family that they were all standing around with nothing left to do. Except for Mom, that is, who couldn’t bring herself to leave without vacuuming the whole floor first. When she finally finished, the vacuum was placed as the last item in the truck, the tailgate was
shut, and they all joined hands for prayer. The Sergeant led them, praying for safety, and that the Lord would look after their friends until they were able to come and join them. He also prayed a special blessing on Alyssa, who had stuck her neck out pretty far to call and warn them of the impending “visitor.” Then they rolled out of Reliance and quietly crossed the line into a very new way of life.

  That first night at Salem was a memorable one. Arriving after dark, they spent several hours setting up beds and unpacking the essentials – which seemed the hardest things to find, as they tended to be in those last, unlabeled boxes. The biggest problem was light, as the electricity hadn’t been turned on yet and they had to work with gas lanterns and flashlights. By the time the house was reasonably in order, the night was half gone. Just before midnight, the family gathered together by the warm fire, and the Sergeant read them the Christmas story from Luke. Tonight they felt a new kinship with Joseph and Mary, two strangers in town under an unfriendly government, spending the first Christmas in a barn.

  Though they were all physically exhausted, they were all too pumped up for bedtime just yet, and sat up talking until the twins fell asleep on the couch. Mrs. Sparrow covered them with a quilt and left them there by the smoldering fire. Everyone else felt their way to their rooms, and went to bed wearing stocking caps and all the layers they could think of.