She kept unwrapping figures. Shepherds, sheep, donkey, angel, Joseph, Mary, baby Jesus. Then there were Jeremy’s contributions to the scene: a red race car he had insisted on giving the baby, a plastic cat that was bigger than the sheep, a miniature soldier with a sword. The baby, he’d told her, needed toys, a pet, and a “strong man to fight the bad guys.” Mara had wanted certain gifts for her baby too, gifts she’d never been able to give him. Jeremy never got the cat he wished for, never had many toys to play with, never had a strong man to fight off the bad guys for him.
At least her granddaughter would have a daddy who would protect her. And maybe Abby would let Mara adopt a pet for her someday.
Meanwhile, she faced the dilemma of not having any presents for the baby. Maybe she could withdraw a bit of cash from their account, and if Tom questioned her about it, she’d say it had been for the boys. He wouldn’t miss fifty dollars, would he?
She called down to the basement. “I’ve got to run some errands! Be back in an hour.”
Fifty dollars sure didn’t go very far. Mara bought the elf booties she had coveted, a baby’s first Christmas ornament, a fuzzy hooded reindeer outfit with a little bobtail, and a Santa hat. Oh, and a Grandma’s Little Angel bib. She paid fifty dollars cash and charged the remaining sixteen dollars and forty-seven cents to a credit card, hoping Tom hadn’t tried anything sneaky by shutting down the account. When the cashier asked her to sign, she breathed a sigh of relief. If he saw the store name on a bill and blew up, she’d deal with it. By then it would be too late to return anything. Feeling the satisfaction of another small victory, she walked to the car, swinging her bags.
Kevin was sitting at the kitchen table when she entered the house humming Joy to the World. He eyed the shopping bags but didn’t say anything. She should have left them in the car! Had he seen the store logo? She tried to cover her tracks. “No peeking in any bags you find around here, okay? ’Tis the season for Santa surprises!” Thankfully, she had already finished shopping for the boys weeks ago. Kevin wouldn’t know the difference on Christmas Day.
“Did you schedule my community service?” he asked, not looking at her.
“Yep. We’re all set for two hours on Sunday afternoon.”
“I’ll be with Dad then.”
Oh. Right. How could she forget? Tom would be coming back into town late Thursday night to spend the entire weekend at the hotel with the boys. “Well, I can reschedule. You don’t have school next week. How about Monday?”
He shrugged, which she took as an affirmative response.
“You hungry?” she asked, still concealing the bags as nonchalantly as possible. “We’ve got a couple of frozen pizzas in the freezer. Pick one and preheat the oven for me, okay? I’ll go change my clothes.”
She went upstairs, shut her door, and spread the merchandise out on her bed so she could admire it. She couldn’t wait to dress that little baby. Or maybe Abby wouldn’t let her dress the baby. Well, she would be happy just to see the baby dressed in that little reindeer suit. Mara could take lots of pictures and turn some into ornaments to hang on the Christmas tree. She resumed her humming.
What’s being born here? Pastor Jeff had asked.
A baby. A real-life Christmas baby. And there was nothing—absolutely nothing—Tom could do to take that away from her.
Meg
December 17
Prayer of examen:
Help me see You, Lord.
Gifts today: visiting Handel’s house and hearing a young musician rehearse on one of the harpsichords. The house echoed with music, just like it would have when Handel was alive. I didn’t realize he went blind toward the end of his life. What a trial. It makes me grateful tonight for the gifts I take for granted. Forgive me, Lord. Thank You for sight, thank You for health, thank You for music. Thank You for the chance to be here and see all these wonderful places. Thank You for the chance to share some of these places with Becca. She enjoyed the house today. Tomorrow we’re going birthday and Christmas shopping at Harrods.
But Simon pollutes the air around us, even when he’s not with us. At least Becca hasn’t asked me about seeing him again. I’m sure she knows how I feel. But she talks about him all the time, like she’s trying to persuade me that he’s some great man. I can understand that she would be attracted to someone she thinks is mature and intelligent. But I’m sorry. Any man involved with someone half his age has deeper issues going on. I don’t know what they are, but Becca is no doubt fulfilling some sort of twisted fantasy for him. And he’s filling some deep void in her.
I keep thinking about what I imagined when I prayed with Isaiah 11. It surprised me. Frightened me. Do I really want Jesus to kill Simon? Am I really that angry? I’m supposed to trust Him and put my rod down. But how can I trust Him when the kingdom doesn’t come like He promised? That wolf I imagined wasn’t going to lie down peacefully with the lamb. And that serpent was ready to strike the child. That’s what wolves and serpents do. If He’s not going to do anything to prevent it from happening, how can I simply stand by and watch? That doesn’t feel like hope. That feels like neglect.
I’m sorry, Lord. I know I shouldn’t question Your ways. But I don’t understand what it means to wait for Your kingdom with expectant faith. I just don’t understand.
I’ve never hated anyone. But I think I hate Simon. I don’t really want You to kill him, Lord. Just make him go away. Please. I want my daughter back.
Even though I know I shouldn’t be worrying about what happens a week from now, I’m wondering what will happen on Christmas Eve. Will she expect to spend her twenty-first birthday with him? Would she expect me to join them? We’ve always celebrated her birthday together. Always. And I can’t bear the thought of sharing her with him that day. Help me live in the moment, Lord, without projecting ahead and then getting upset about things that haven’t happened yet and that might not happen. My imagination is always racing ahead. Forgive me. Help me wait for You with hope. Help me trust You to appear. I’m not ready to put the rod down yet, though. I guess You understand.
Help me, Lord. Please. You promise that the whole earth will someday be filled with the knowledge of You, like the waters cover the sea. Right now the only waters I see are the ones rising up to my neck, and I still feel like I’m going to drown.
Mara
By eight o’clock Mara was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong. But she couldn’t call Jeremy, not if he was in the delivery room. Nine o’clock ticked by. Still no word. Ten o’clock. Eleven. The boys went to bed. Mara sat in front of the Christmas tree and tried to pray. She’d had a long labor with Jeremy. Almost twenty-one hours. Maybe this little one would make Abby work overtime too. Kevin had been easy. Only four hours. Brian was breech. C-section. She hoped Abby wouldn’t need a C-section. Recovery was awful. Especially with a colicky baby. Hopefully, her granddaughter would be an easy baby.
She was just about to give in and call for an update when her phone rang.
“Mom?”
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m holding her, Mom.” Jeremy was crying. “I’m holding her. She’s beautiful. Just beautiful.”
Mara’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, honey! Congratulations.”
“I didn’t think I could love her this much, this soon,” Jeremy said.
Mara remembered what that felt like. With all three of the boys. “Have you named her?” she asked.
“Madeleine Lee.”
Madeleine Lee. Oh, that was a lovely name. While Mara listened happily, Jeremy rattled off all the other birth statistics. “I guess it’s too late to come now, isn’t it?” Mara said. It was almost midnight.
“Yeah. Visiting hours are over, and Abby’s exhausted. I’m gonna sleep here in the room tonight. How about coming in the morning?”
She’d waited years for this moment. What was another eight hours? “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Tell Madeleine I love her. And Abby too. And give yourself a hug. I love you. I’m so proud of you.”
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br /> She hung up the phone and spent the next few minutes pouring out her prayers of gratitude. Then, picking up Jeremy’s pirate wise man from the nativity set, she pressed him to her heart and drifted off to sleep in her chair.
Mara was so excited about meeting her granddaughter that none of Brian’s usual attempts to upset or derail her succeeded. “Have a great day!” she said as she dropped them off at the front of the school. She had decided not to tell them about Jeremy and the baby, just in case one or both of them was relaying information to Tom. This was her private joy, and she was going to treasure it. “Call my cell phone if you need anything today,” she said.
Kevin grunted what might have been a good-bye. Brian slammed the door without responding.
She yielded to some other cars that were attempting to merge from the wrong direction, waved to some students crossing the parking lot, and started singing. FOR-r un-to us a child is bo-orn. Ba-da-bum. Un-to us. Ta da dah. A son—would it be sacrilegious to change that to “girl?”—is gi-ven. Tap, tap, probably. Un-to us. Da da dah. A son is gi-ven!
She couldn’t remember the rest, so she just sang that refrain again and again until she reached the hospital. By then, even the morning was celebrating the birth of a baby girl by unfurling rosy pink ribbons across a pale peppermint sky. Glory, glory, glory.
“I’m here to see Abigail Payne and my brand new baby granddaughter,” Mara announced at the check-in desk. Oh, how she loved the sound of those words!
“Congratulations!” the receptionist said, grinning. She typed on her keyboard and looked at her screen. “Fifth floor, room 516.” She scribbled the number on a piece of paper.
“Thanks!” Mara tucked the slip of paper into her pocket and shuffled down the hallway. Un-to us . . . snap, snap, snap. A son is given! “Mornin’!” she said to someone else waiting for the elevator. Un-to us. Snap, snap, snap. A son is given! When the elevator doors swished open, she entered and pressed number five. “What floor?” she asked.
“Three, please.”
Mara pressed the button with a flourish and only realized she was humming aloud when the man smiled at her. “Sorry,” she said. “New grandbaby.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” She hoped he wasn’t going to visit someone with cancer or something. She didn’t know what kind of patients were on the third floor. Please bless whoever he’s going to see, she prayed. Bless him. She hummed silently until the doors opened on the fifth floor, where she stepped out into a gleaming hallway. Slinging the shopping bags over her shoulder, she followed the arrows to the correct wing and arrived at room 516.
The door was open. Rather than bursting in, she paused at the threshold and observed her boy leaning over his wife as she cradled their baby girl. Jeremy had one hand resting on Abby’s shoulder, the other on Madeleine’s head. For a moment Mara had the sense that she ought to remove her shoes or something. Reluctant to disrupt the hush of their loving circle, she hovered in the doorway until Jeremy happened to look up.
“Mom!”
Abby also turned and greeted her with such a smile of warmth and welcome that Mara nearly burst into tears.
“Come meet Madeleine!” Jeremy said, rising from the edge of the bed.
Mara set her shopping bags down on the floor and walked toward the chair where Abby was sitting. Oh, Madeleine Lee was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. A tuft of thick black hair, skin the color of a creamy latte, a little button of a nose. Oh, God. And her fingers! Mara had forgotten the wonder of a baby’s hand.
“Do you want to hold her?” Abby asked.
“Oh . . . I—she’s sleeping.”
“It’s okay.” Abby repositioned herself while Mara held out her arms to receive the treasure.
Lost.
She was lost in wonder. Lost in joy. Lost in praise. Lost in gratitude. Lost in love. Lost for words.
Lost.
Found.
Unto us.
While Abby nursed Madeleine, Mara presented her gifts. “You didn’t have to do all of this!” Jeremy said, stroking the fuzzy brown reindeer outfit. “Look, hon—a little bobtail and antlers and everything.”
Abby looked up briefly and nodded. “It’s so sweet. Thank you so much.”
“I thought maybe you could put her in that when you carry her home. It’s like a zippered little papoose blanket. I don’t know what you call it. They didn’t have things like this when Jeremy was a baby.”
“I survived just fine,” Jeremy replied, smiling.
Mara reached into her purse. “I also brought this to show you.” She handed him the wise man.
“My pirate! Where’d you find it?”
“With the nativity set.”
He showed it to Abby. “It’s from Crossroads, right? Didn’t someone give that to me right after we moved here?”
“Yep. And you slept with it every night for a month.”
Mara listened as Jeremy recounted to Abby some of what he remembered. Amazing that he had happy memories of such a difficult, scary time. Then again, to a child, anything could become an adventure. Even being homeless.
“You have a big decision to make, Mom,” Jeremy said, turning again to face her.
Oh, boy. She wasn’t sure she was up for making any big decisions.
“You need to decide what you want to be called.”
Ahhhh . . . she’d forgotten about that part. “Oh, I don’t know . . .” Ellen had probably already picked something. “What about your mom, Abby? What does she want to be called?”
“Po po,” Abby replied. “It’s Chinese.”
“You weren’t hoping for that one, were you, Mom?” Jeremy teased.
Mara laughed. She could choose anything she wanted. Anything! Her own sweet grandmother came to mind. Though she had died when Mara was only eight, Mara still remembered how her house smelled like vanilla and apples and cloves. She had taught Mara how to bake.
Mara immediately conjured up happy images of Madeleine standing tiptoe on a little stool, spoon in hand, wearing an apron Mara had bought. Or maybe one that Ellen had sewn for her. “Could I be Nana?” she asked.
Jeremy reached for her hand. “I think Nana is perfect for you.”
Perfect.
Now, that was a word Mara didn’t often use to describe herself or anything about her life. But right here, right now, this moment? This was absolute perfection. And right here, right now, she didn’t even care that it wouldn’t last. These were the moments in life that made everything else bearable, and she was going to squeeze every last possible drop of goodness from it. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you. She leaned back in her chair and watched with deep contentment as Madeleine fell asleep at Abby’s breast.
Meg
Never in her life had Meg been in a store like Harrods. “Over three hundred departments!” she exclaimed as she and Becca rode up the escalator past carved Egyptian panels and statues. “Where do you even start?”
Becca was not short on ideas. They tried on stylish and ridiculous hats, sampled fragrances, and ate decadent pastries and chocolates in the vast food court. Meg even tasted—and swallowed—a bite of Becca’s sushi. Then they visited the famous Christmas shop.
Becca shook a snow globe with a London scene. “Do you remember when I broke my snow globe and made a mess in the parlor? Gran was furious at me. She didn’t let me play in there, and that was my favorite place to play.”
“Mine too,” Meg said. “I got in trouble when I was little for taking my dolls in there.” Unlike Becca, who had frequently pushed the boundaries with Mother, Meg had only needed to be reprimanded once.
She and Becca watched the glitter swirl around the Houses of Parliament. “Would you like that?” Meg asked.
“Oh . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Pick one that you like, and I’ll get it for you.”
“You already got me a hat. And a purse.”
“Well, how often do we get the chance to shop in London for your birthday? Choose one.”
Meg picked it up and jostled it. “I’d forgotten about that.”
Becca strolled over to a display with dozens of teddy bears. A fluffy brown bear dressed as a Buckingham Palace guard caught her attention, and she clutched it to her chest. In that moment Meg caught a glimpse of her little girl again, the little pixie who often tried to cajole her grandmother into letting her have teddy bear tea parties in the parlor. But Mother was intractable. No toys in the parlor. Sometimes, if Mother was out of town, Meg let Becca play with her entire menagerie of stuffed animals downstairs. Their secret.
She was just about to offer to buy the teddy bear when Becca’s phone beeped with a text. Meg could tell by the expression on her face that it was Simon. Would he never stop intruding?
Becca put the teddy bear back on the shelf, then typed a reply. The little girl vanished, once again concealed within a young woman trying too hard to be sophisticated.
Meg was still holding the snow globe. “Shall I get this for you?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” Becca looked down and assessed her mini-skirt and shoes. “But I wouldn’t say no to a cool pair of boots.”
Before they went off to find the shoe department, Meg bought the snow globe for herself. She knew just where she would put it.
On the mantel.
In the parlor.
When they finished their marathon shopping excursion, Meg and Becca returned to the hotel for tea. “Thanks for all the gifts,” Becca said. “It was really fun.”
“You’re welcome.” Even with Simon casting his shadow, it had been a good day, the sort of day Meg had imagined spending together. She slathered a second scone with strawberry jam and clotted cream. She was going to miss this treat once she returned home. Maybe she could find a good recipe.
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