by Leah Atwood
They’d only been married a week and a half, but he was determined to court her and win her favor. Do all the things most couples did before marriage.
If his instinct was right, he was well on his way. Regardless, he wouldn’t take Lyndsey for granted. He knew from the deepest part of his heart, that Lyndsey and he were exactly where God wanted them to be. He harbored no doubt they’d have a full life together, complete with the large family both of them desired. Even love was part of their future.
Yes, he wholeheartedly believed that one day, Lyndsey and he would fall in love. Six weeks ago, he would have laughed at the notion of ever loving again. That or sprint in the opposite direction. But that was then. Now he thought he might be halfway there.
He loved Lyndsey’s strength in the face of trials—that she buried her fragility in order to persevere. Her will to move on without bitterness inspired him. She was a natural mother, always thinking of Josh and what was best for him. Even her independent streak was endearing, but he also loved that she relaxed her hold on that and allowed him to perform small acts of kindness for her now without protest.
Eager to be near her again, he went inside. He’d missed her and Josh yesterday while he worked. Fortunately, he’d had a light load and was home by two.
In the kitchen, Lyndsey held the phone to her ear, making a prearranged phone call.
“Should we tell him now?” Shep asked when she ended the conversation on her cell.
“Yes.” She took a few steps to reach the staircase and called upstairs. “Come to the kitchen, Josh. We have a surprise for you.”
Small feet sped down the steps. “What is it?”
“Take a guess.” Catching Lyndsey’s eye, Shep grinned.
“You got me a puppy?” His eyes brightened with hope.
“Not quite.” Lyndsey ruffled Josh’s hair. “No animals yet.”
“Can I have a hint?” Josh’s gaze shifted over the entire room, as though that would help him uncover the secret.
“Hmm. What do you think Shep?” Lyndsey gave him a sideways smile. “Should we?”
“Yes, yes,” Josh chimed.
“It involves your favorite food,” Shep said. Last night when he’d discussed this afternoon’s plan with Lyndsey, he’d asked what Josh would choose to eat if given his choice, and she’d told him pizza.
“Are we having pizza for lunch?” Josh’s head bobbed forward.
“Not just any pizza, but one from Geno’s.” Shep’s mouth watered. Geno’s—hands down—had the best pizza in Calding County.
“Yahoo.” Small fists pumped into the air. “That’s my favorite.”
“After lunch, we’ll decorate the house for Christmas and once it’s dark, we’ll drive to the park and walk through all the lights there.” Lyndsey pointed a finger. “But only if you behave.”
“I will.” Making an “X” over his chest, he said, “Cross my heart, hope to die.”
“Joshua Allen, you don’t say things like that. Where did you hear such a thing?” Lyndsey propped a hand on her hip—it was one of the rare times Shep witnessed her scolding him.
“At preschool.” His bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t know I wasn’t s’posed to say it.”
“Okay, but don’t say it again.” Lyndsey relaxed her stance.
“Do I still get to see the lights tonight?” A small tear fell down his innocent face.
“Of course.” She pulled him into a hug. “Mommy’s sorry for snapping at you because you didn’t know better, but I don’t want to hear you say anything like that again.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
Shep retrieved a twenty from his wallet and gave it to Lyndsey. “I have another box of decorations in the attic to bring down. Here’s money for the pizza if it comes while I’m still up there.”
“Thanks.” Lyndsey laid it on the counter and glanced down at her white sweater. “I’m going to change real quick. With my luck, a glob of sauce will slide right off my slice and onto my clothes.”
“Can I go to the attic with you, Daddy?”
“Not this time, buddy. I don’t trust those old steps and wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Josh’s mouth started to turn down in a pout, but he must have had second thoughts. “Okay.”
Lyndsey walked with Shep to the home’s second floor. “Be careful coming down with the box.”
“I’ve done it plenty of times.” He saw her worried look. “Don’t worry, I know which rungs are weak and where to step.”
“If you need me, stomp. I’ll be downstairs again in a minute, and won’t be able to hear if you call out.”
Her instructions made him laugh. “Alright.”
Shep strode to the hallway’s end and stood on his tiptoes to reach the string which hung from the ceiling. Gave it a firm pull to bring down the steps.
Once in the attic, he walked to the rear corner, searching for the final box. He’d avoided it at all costs until they’d discovered Lyndsey’s star had broken in the move. Rather than open the box for the angel, he’d considered buying a new tree topper. He’d grappled with it for a few days, but finally chose to face the past.
Without looking, he knew at the top of the box, wrapped carefully for protection, lay a musical snow globe. Inside the snow globe was a Santa figurine kneeling at the manger of baby Jesus. He’d bought it for Miranda their first Christmas as a married couple, when they discussed whether they would carry on the Santa tradition with their children that never came. They’d been at a standstill until she saw the snow globe in a store, and she’d fallen in love with it. Taking it out first every year after that had become a tradition.
He hadn’t touched it since the Christmas after she passed when he packed everything away. In the following years, he’d put out a few decorations, but never anything from this box. The reminder hurt too much.
This year was different. He had a family again, and a son with whom he wanted to share the snow globe, and teach him about Christ’s birth in a stable. He’d get to see the excitement in Josh’s eyes on Christmas morning when he came downstairs and saw the presents under the tree.
Closing his eyes, Shep took a deep breath. “I can do this.”
He opened his eyes and dusted the box’s top with his palm. He lifted the flaps and stared at the small box with the protected snow globe inside. His heart rate picked up speed, but he ignored it and carefully removed the snow globe from its layers of covering.
Exactly as he remembered it. He ran a hand over the smooth glass then turned it upside down and spun the music mechanism. When he released it the strains of “Away in a Manger” filled the attic space. The lyrics of the song danced on his lips as he sang quietly to the tinny music. After the music stopped, he set the novelty beside him.
“Look through the box,” a silent voice prompted him.
Following his conscience, he dug through the box. One by one he removed items, stopping to recall fond memories of each. At the bottom was a wrapped present, approximately six inches by nine inches.
A gasp took the last breath in his lungs and his heart stopped for a moment. Miranda’s final gift to him. The doctors never expected her to make it until Christmas that year—they hadn’t even believed she’d make it until summer—so they’d set up Christmas early when it became apparent she was substantially weakening every day. When she left this world in late September, he hadn’t had the strength to open the gift and blocked it from his memory all these years.
The metallic taste of blood tipped his tongue and he realized he’d bit hard on his bottom lip. Over and over he turned it in his hands, like a hot coal he couldn’t bring himself to set down.
Setting it on the floor, he took deep breaths. He slid a finger under the first layer of paper. Tore the tape, peeled away the wrapping. Again, and again, until no gift wrap remained on the box.
He touched it with a single finger, afraid the contact would unleash the emotions he barely held in check. A lump lodged in his throat, and he tried to swallow it to no avail.
Another deep breath. Bracing himself, he looked down at the gift.
An hourglass.
An hourglass?
His fingers curled over the edge of the box, and he lifted it, examined it from all sides. A folded piece of paper had been taped to the other side, his name written on the outside.
A final note from Miranda.
He blinked furiously. It couldn’t be.
He removed the paper and unfolded it.
My Dearest Shep,
For Christmas this year, I struggled with what to buy you. Chances are, I’ll be in Heaven by then, but that’s all the more reason to leave you with a final gift to remember me by.
Our time on earth is so short, isn’t it? But the beautiful thing about time for people like us who have accepted Christ, is that time never stops. My time in this life will soon run out, but then I’ll begin again in a place where time is eternal. My hourglass in Heaven will never run out.
My only sadness in dying is that you’ll be left behind. It won’t be forever and one day we will meet again, but until then, know that I love you and cherish every second together that God has given us.
When I have to leave this world, don’t let your hourglass of joy be destroyed. When you feel like you have nothing left to give, that all your joy has sunk to the bottom, flip your hourglass and start over. No matter how empty you feel, the joy will be there, my love, waiting for you to take it.
Grieve, but rejoice for the love that we shared. Cry, but sing praises to the one who allowed us these wonderful years together.
I love you,
Miranda
P.S. Read the inscription.
He swallowed again, wiping away unbidden tears.
“Shep, are you okay?”
The voice startled him. He hadn’t heard Lyndsey enter the attic nor had he noticed her approach. “Yeah.”
“You’ve been up here for forty-five minutes. I was getting worried.” She sat cross-legged beside him.
“I’m sorry, I lost track of time. Did you eat yet?” He kept his face away from her, not wanting her to see his heartache.
“No. In the two minutes it took me to change, Josh curled up on the sofa and fell asleep.” She tapped his cheek, prodding him to look at her. “What’s going on?”
He rubbed his temples then handed her the hourglass box. “I found this, Miranda’s final present for me. After she died, I couldn’t open it and forgot about it until now.”
“I remember this.” She let out a low whistle. “She asked me if it was a dumb gift, and I told her it was lovely.”
“She left a note with it.” He held up the paper. “Would you like to read it?”
Her hands went up to refuse. “I couldn’t. That’s personal for you.”
“I’d like for you to read it.”
“Okay.” She took the paper and by the time she read through it, tears poured down her face. “Oh Shep, that’s beautiful.”
They found themselves in each other’s arms—comforting, supporting and grieving together for a person they’d both loved in different forms.
Lyndsey’s head rested against his shoulder. “What does the inscription say? She never told me that part.”
“I haven’t looked yet.”
“Now would be a good time.”
He chuckled softly, feeling lighter. No one compared to Lyndsey. She’d walked in on him shedding tears for his late wife, and instead of jealousy or disgust, she’d joined him then wanted to know more.
After opening the top flap of the box, he pulled out a piece of Styrofoam until the hourglass also came out, wedged into the protective material. He removed everything until he held only the gift, free of all packaging.
Lyndsey reached up and brushed away the small pieces of debris, making the description readable.
“Count it all joy, when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” —James 1:2-3
“Count it all joy,” he said aloud, reciting the first part.
“Powerful words.”
“Will you pray with me?” An overwhelming need to connect with Lyndsey on a spiritual level at this moment pressed upon his heart.
“I’d like that.”
He took her hands as they prayed. “Dear Lord. Thank You for the reminder You’ve given us today to count all things joy in You, for Your plan is greater than any we could imagine. I thank You for Lyndsey and Josh, and for the joy they’ve brought to my life. Bless them and us as a family. In Your name, Amen.”
Chapter Eleven
At two a.m. on Christmas morning, Lyndsey wrapped the final gift and stuck it in the pile with the others to carry downstairs. Appreciation filled her as she looked at the generous stack of gifts. A few months ago she wouldn’t have been able to afford anything more than a dollar store toy for Josh, but thanks to Shep, Josh would have a great Christmas.
She knew Christmas wasn’t about the gifts, but she wanted to give Josh a magical day. Most of her memories from childhood were long faded, but she could still remember vividly all her Christmases from the age of four to eight, before her parents died and she entered the foster care system.
Her parents had loved Christmas, and she carried that memory with her, holding it close to her heart. They’d always gone overboard for Christmas, from decorations to gifts, but Jesus was always at the center of their celebration. In her family, it truly was the most wonderful time of the year, and if she could recreate just a small part of that for Josh, then she would.
Not all the gifts were for Josh, and they were separated into piles. A few were for Shep’s parents, and brother and sister-in-law. A hefty number within that stack were for his nephews. Beside that was another pile for friends at church whom they’d see tomorrow.
In a separate pile to the side were several gifts for Mark’s parents. A present for each of them that she’d picked out, and then a second each from Josh. They were out of town visiting family, but would be back tomorrow. If everything went as planned, Josh would spend the weekend with them, much to their delight. They'd been thrilled when she’d asked them and relieved that she’d kept her word about keeping Josh in their lives.
Shep walked through the door, shivering. “The swing set is all put together, complete with a large red bow tied to the top.”
“Thank you.” She jumped up and hugged him, lending him her warmth. “You didn’t have to construct it tonight, in the dark and cold. We could have shown him the box, and he’d have been happy.”
“Not in this lifetime.” His cold arms wrapped around her waist. “If you were a kid, wouldn’t you be much more excited to see the set ready to use?”
“Of course, but as a parent, I think the frigid air would convince me otherwise.”
His eyes sparkled. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Among other things.” She laughed and pointed to the presents. “All that’s left is to carry these down and we can go to bed. I filled the stockings while you were outside.”
They each grabbed an armful and carried the towering gifts down the steps and arranged them under the tree. It took them three trips to bring down all the stacks.
The scent of fir and cinnamon mingled. Lyndsey stepped back, remembering the laughter they’d shared when they’d made the dough ornaments last week. Her eyes fell on one of Josh’s, and she smiled. He’d been determined to make it into a star on his own without the assistance of a cookie-cutter, and he’d succeeded. Her little boy was growing up.
Shep had made his ornament in the shape of a heart. He hadn’t said anything, but on the rear side, he’d written both of their initials. She only knew because it had fallen off the tree yesterday, and she saw the writing when she picked it off the floor.
Did it mean what she thought or had he done it for no reason? No, it had to mean something because Shep did everything with a purpose. But if it was true, why hadn’t he said anything? Was it because he’d promised that she’d set the pace and he didn’t want to push? Maybe he was a
fraid she wouldn’t reciprocate.
That day in the attic a few weeks ago changed everything for her. It was right there in front of her the whole time, but she hadn’t wanted to see it.
A conversation from the day Shep proposed nagged her. They’d acknowledged that they didn’t have it in themselves to love someone again. Had they both been wrong?
She’d find out later in the day when she gave him his gift.
***
“Mommy, Mommy, wake up.” Small hands shook Lyndsey.
Her eyes fluttered open to see Josh in his red and green striped Christmas pajamas. “Merry Christmas.”
“Can we go downstairs and see if Santa came? Please?” He jumped on the bed and climbed over her. “Wake up, Daddy. It’s Christmas.”
“Uh huh, Merry Christmas.” He rolled over, tucking the blanket around him, then shot up abruptly. “It is Christmas.”
Lyndsey smiled to herself. It was the quickest she’d ever seen her husband become alert in the morning. Nonetheless, she didn’t want him pressured to get up when they’d had less than four hours of sleep. “I’ll send him back to bed if you want a few minutes to rest a little longer.”
Shep pulled Josh to him. “Who needs sleep when there are presents to open, right buddy?”
“Right.” Josh gave a definitive nod.
“We’ll go downstairs and you can look at the presents, but don’t touch them yet.” She tossed the covers aside and watched Josh race out of the room in an excited sprint.
“Wait up,” Shep called, jumping out of bed then running after him.
Not many men could do justice to the Christmas pajamas he wore that matched Josh’s, but Shep wore them proudly without sacrificing any masculinity. Though she’d been spared the stripes, she donned new red fleece pajamas with snowflakes printed on them. Not only were they cute and comfortable, but Shep and Josh had picked them out together, which made them that much more special.
She hopped out of bed and trod down the stairs. The sight before her melted any ice that remained in her heart.
Shep sat cross-legged in front of the lit tree, and Josh sat in his lap. They would pick up a present, shake it, then look at each and make a guess of the contents. Both of them wore broad smiles.