The Very Name of Christmas

by Martiele Sidles

  Great Ormond Street Hospital. Two young children lay dying, badly crushed by an overturned carriage. A young physician knelt between beds, hands clenched, eyes wet, overseeing their treatment. There was nothing to be done but to ease their way out of the hard, meager life they had endured. He could do nothing, and his despair overwhelmed him.

  Drs. West and Jenner, passing the ward and hearing his muffled sobs, moved quietly into the ward. Young Cratchit, thought Jenner. I should have known. He takes the act of death too much to heart and cannot admit that death, the master of life, has a blessedness all its own. It can lift and alleviate, reassure and redeem. With his talents he will learn the lessons well, but first we must somehow help him to reach the peak of his knowledge and soften the blow of his natural and God-given limitations.

  The two older men stepped to the bedside and lifted the younger man to his feet. The sobs were deeper, yet quieter. They took him to the window and opened it slightly to the crystalline, moon-brushed night sky.

  "There is a peace in the death of a suffering patient, Timothy, when that is all the world finally holds for him. As the Scriptures tell us, it passes the understanding of man," Dr. West murmured, as he slipped a steadying arm about the young doctor's shoulders.

  Dr. Jenner took up the words..."Cratchit, you are a man of tremendous talent. The world is the better for your having come into it, but you must learn to understand that much of the suffering we see, and often try to alleviate, is given to man for his refinement. Multitudinous problems surfeit the rolls of mankind, including poor health, accidents and disease. The Creator did not, and does not, expect that all of what we see can, or should be, treated successfully. We do our best to work in concert with God, and when we have done all we can reasonably do, we leave it in His hands. This is mankind's lot in life, unchangeable and often uncharted. Accept that you must work as hard as you can, do your very best and then leave it in the hands of the Eternal Physician. It is the best way to make the business of mankind a successful one, Timothy."

  Tim looked out at the clear sky, noting tiny flickers of light as the snow drifted through the silvered radiance of moonbeams. He heaved a tremendous sigh and felt a slight warmth at the edges of his heart.

  Dr. Jenner tapped him gently on the shoulder.

  "Timothy, you must go home now and rest. We will keep watch between us. There is time enough. Besides, Christmas is a day away, and Julianne will be expecting that gift that still lies somewhere in the heart of some shop window. Go home now, son, and ease yourself." With gentle pats to his shoulders, both doctors moved slowly into the depths of the ward, speaking softly here, straightening a coverlet there. Healers, both.

  The ward dissolved into milky waves of glass, and Julianne's face appeared, solemn and sad. Her smile was gone, her posture dejected. Kneeling before a large and wonderfully decorated pine tree, she placed two silver-wrapped packages beneath its fullest branches.

  "He won't come," she murmured. "I know he won't come. He is so preoccupied with his work and the time he has to do it. There is no time for me. Has he forgotten us? Has he ceased to love? I cannot reach him; it is as if the man I love has died. He no longer exists without the hospital, and I cannot exist within it." Twisting the ring on her left hand, her tears blurring its brilliance, she took it off and laid it beside the smallest package.

  "I shall offer this back to him that his heart may be given fully elsewhere." Rising from the floor, she moved dejectedly from the room.

  "Julianne!" he cried. "Don't leave! Don't go!"

  The girl checked her motion at the door and lifted her head. Hearing no sound, she left the room.

  "Spirit," he groaned. "Let me go. I must see to her comfort."

  Albert appeared faintly within the window's gleam. The figure gripped Tim's arm more firmly.

  "Give heed," she whispered, her hand pointing to the window.

  The window flared briefly and then...

  Two young boys, cold and hungry, shivered in a tiny attic room. One small bed held them both; one thin blanket covered them. Crying from exhaustion and hunger, the boys cradled each other. A few minutes later, Albert appeared with a small load of bread and two wizened apples. He took a knife and cut up the bread and the fruit, making sure each boy received an equal share and not letting them see that he took nothing for himself.

  "Let me tell you a story about a kind gentleman and a little tree," he began. "It is truly amazing, and I saw it with my own eyes!"

  Settling back between the two boys, snuggling with them to share his body's warmth, Albert began his story.

  "The gentleman is a physician, a doctor, at that great hospital for the little ones. He's ever so kind; he asked me if I were sick and then gave me sixpence for my dinner. It's what paid for your dinner that night and this bread and apples right now. He's a right generous man, but he's awfully sad. I've been waiting around to help him, and I took him to his lodgings today. He's ill, I think - ill in his head and heart. It causes him great pain, but it's so far inside him that I don't know what to do. I'll think of something, make no mistake. Right now I'm just keeping my eyes on him. I think he needs a friend, someone to watch out for him because he won't watch out for himself. I'll be watching him every day.

  “Anyway, let me tell you what I saw. It was a wee little tree, and it shines like the moon in the sky. It has tiny little decorations on it, stars and hearts, bells that really ring, ribbons, little boxes wrapped in pretty cloth and tiny candles that will look like the stars in Heaven when they're lit. And the smell! Like digging the earth and a clear summer morning, like a sweet cake and a clean breeze from the river on a cool night before winter comes. It's like it lives all on its own, fresh and green and proud. It's regal like a prince or a king. It was like having a warm coat for your heart. There was also a fire, with real wood burning on the grate. I've never been so warm in all my life. Maybe Dr. Tim will let you see it tomorrow, it being so close to Christmas. It was a real treat, I'm telling you." The little one was already fast asleep, while the elder one smiled sleepily and slid gently into his Christmas dreams.

  "I won't tell them about the hot tea and the biscuits," Albert whispered. "Wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all." He cradled both boys close to him and listed out loud his good fortune while he watched his mother doze over her needle. "She is so tired with all her sewing. Her eyes are red, and her fingers stiff," he whispered and sighed deeply.

  "I'll be bettering myself after this," he murmured softly into the chill room. "My family wants better than this, and Dr. Tim made me look at things differently. Don't suppose he knows that he helped, doesn't even know it isn't necessary for him to be a working doctor all the time. Well, where there's one kind gentleman there's bound to be another who wants an apprentice ready to rise in the world. That'll be me, and I'll be finding my gentleman very soon." His eyes closed slowly as sleep captured his thoughts. "Maybe I'll dream about my own Christmas tree with Dr. Tim come to Christmas dinner." His voice faded.

  The window shimmered, became clear and grew rimed with frost. Timothy stood, staring blindly into the street. A muted sound, soft as a breath, drew his eyes to the fireplace. Unknown and unperceived by him, the dark figure had moved away from him to wait silently for his attention.

  "You have seen that which is now, that which inhabits your present self and defines your present nature. You have gazed into a looking glass which mirrors what you are. Have you seen with your heart? The time has come for you to add up the figures, to credit or debit. Time does not remain stationary but moves quickly forward, binding itself into the tomorrows of your todays. Hoard your todays, Timothy, gather them about you and taste fully the joys here with you now. Listen to the heart that beats in you today and hear clearly the heartbeat of those who are with you. Seek not to deposit the tomorrows when the todays have not been spent. Think kindly of these Present days, Timothy, and look forward to that which is yet to come. Spend not the coin of your life in the idle saving of what might-have-been. Lose no time i
n honoring this Present. Therein lies joy; therein lies the solace of your immortal soul. Remember me. Remember me."

  The shrouded specter swept aside her veil; inky darkness melted into light. Before his eyes, she was transformed into a woman of singular beauty with sun-crowned hair, ivory cheeks, glowing azure eyes and a silken loveliness that centered itself before the fire and was absorbed into its rosy shimmer, dancing as tiny sparks above the flames. Then the light rose strongly, and the fire softened to its former glow.

  Unable to believe his eyes and unwilling to deny his heart, Tim leaned over the divan and drew a light lap rug over the sleeping boy. Albert had slept undisturbed through the entire incident. What had happened? Was he dreaming or ill? Still unconvinced, Timothy moved to his chair, settled himself and stared into the fire. He played the pictures he had viewed over and over in his mind, retaining images and discarding feelings, then discarding images and retaining feelings, until he could think no more. The mantle clock chimed the hour, offering the moment of time. This time the clock merely winked at him, slowly shutting one stiff lid. Tim leaned back and almost before he rested fully against the cushions, he slept once more.

  Some hours later as the wisps of dawn's muted light crept through the windows of Tim's lodgings, Albert awakened, warm, comfortable and unsure of his surroundings. As his thoughts sorted themselves, he lifted his head to see the young doctor standing at the window, staring into the silent, snow-covered street below. In his hand he held a black lace handkerchief.

  "Today," he whispered. "Today is the time. I must see Julianne today. I cannot go to the hospital; I cannot see to treatments; I can do naught today but rest and see Julianne. Later I will seek out her Christmas gift. There may not be enough time, but it will be accomplished before night falls."

  Tim went to the door, opened it and disappeared down the stairs to his landlady's flat. Moments later, he was back, finally noticing that Albert was awake and watchful.

  "Breakfast will be up soon; when you hear Mrs. Tompkins, you might help her with the tray. I hope you're hungry. Meanwhile, I'm going to see to a fresh suit of clothes. Time is wasting; there's much to be done." Tim started into his room, stopped and swung back around toward Albert.

  "Did a lady come to visit me last evening and perhaps leave this by accident? I cannot think from whence it might have come. I know it is not Julianne's." Albert looked at the scrap of black lace and shook his head.

  "Didn't see a lady, sir, though I thought I saw my Gram here late in the night. Must have dreamed it. Don't you know who belongs to it?" Tim looked blank, turned and went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  Albert, lying quietly, decided he'd best be getting up. He stood, folding the coverlet, moving to place more wood on the fire. His eyes wandered slowly around the room, stopping at rows of books and piles of papers, small instruments, little knick-knacks and souvenirs of faraway places. Trying to imagine what all these fascinating things were used for or where they had come from, he shivered with excitement. When he finally bent to stir the fire, he heard the sounds of rattling crockery. There was a sharp knock on the door, and a laughing female voice called, "Mister Cratchit, I have your breakfast. It's just hot to eat, so please open the door. I've done my best for you this morning with my special quince jam and all. You'd best get right to it."

  Albert swung the door open, smiling at the handsome woman before him and lifting the tray from her arms.

  "Good morning to you, ma'am. This looks like a fine breakfast to me. Mister Cratchit sends his thanks. He'll be needing such nourishment today."

  Mrs. Tompkins smiled. "He'll be all the better for it, poor lamb. He needs building up. He's lost half a stone in the past month. You just call if there's anything else he needs. See that he eats it all, if you please, and there's plenty left over for hungry visitors." She sent him a saucy wink and retreated downstairs to her own fireside.

  Albert moved the tea table closer to the fire and began to pull the napkins from the plates, suddenly he stopped. The smell was unbelievable! It roiled around his head and stopped just in front of his nose; his mouth watered and his teeth itched to crunch together the lovely things on that tray. There was tea and toast, a small dish of porridge, buttered eggs, marmalade, several rashers of bacon and great currant-studded scones with Mrs. Tompkins very own quince jam! Looked like it might feed Mr. Tim till Tuesday week. It was all served on china with snowy napkins covering the lot. The clink of the tray had been very satisfying to Albert's hungry stomach.

  "Mr. Cratchit, sir, the breakfast is here. Looks mighty good to me. You'd best hurry up, sir; the lady said it's just hot enough to eat now. There's ever so much." Albert's eyes wandered to the bedroom door every few seconds and then back to the tray. His mouth watered, and he wondered how long he could wait. This was more food than he had seen at once in all his short life.

  Tim plodded through his bedroom door slowly, like an old man recovering from a long illness, shaky on his feet and willing to rest after the first day up from his sickbed. He was dressed in a newly-made suit with a crisp, clean shirt and fresh white cuffs. Although he still looked very tired, his face was washed, his hair freshly brushed, his eyes clear.

  "Breakfast," he said wonderingly, finding with astonishment that he had some appetite. "Come on then, Albert, let's eat now while it's still warm. It smells very good, and our Mrs. Tompkins always does us proud." Albert grinned. With an exaggerated gesture, he removed the napkins from the plates and hurriedly sat down.

  For the next little while, all that could be heard was the rattle of plates and forks, and the only conversation consisted of various requests for more toast, more tea and more marmalade. Tim ate with satisfaction, wondering at the taste of familiar foods now that he was at leisure to enjoy them. Albert ate steadily, with considerable concentration, until not a scrap or crumb remained on plate or tray. Replete with good food and the wonder of a solid meal, Albert sat back with a gusty sigh.

  "That was a right good breakfast, sir. I've not eaten like that in a month of Sundays. I feel like I could dance a jig and run the river. I thank you, I truly do. Now, what are we about today? You do remember that I'm to be your guide today as you go about the city?" Tim frowned slightly.

  "Well, Albert, now that you mention it, I don't actually remember that.

  And now that I think of it, I don't even remember how I got here last night, and for all of that, how did YOU get here? Beyond Sir Humphrey ticking me off last evening and a shadowy dream last night, I seem to remember very little of yesterday at all. How is it that you are here this morning, and what business have I in the city today?" Tim looked at him inquiringly.

  "Let me begin at the start of it all, sir. I, being grateful for your generosity the other day, was waiting for you outside the hospital to give you my thanks. You came out looking like you were the worse for drink, dazed and sick looking. I said to myself, that young gentleman wants my help whether he knows it nor not, so I took your arm, and we went on to your lodgings. You asked me my name, talked real low about a Christmas gift you'd be needing by today, and agreed to have me see you about the city for a ten-penny piece. I know all the best places to go for anything you might want and the fastest way of getting there. Last night, I stayed around to see you right. I gave you tea and biscuits and settled down, not meaning to stay the night, but I took some tea myself and the rest of the biscuits. It was so lovely and warm, I guess I couldn't keep my peepers open. I hope I did right, sir, but I just couldn't help myself."

  "Yes, of course you did right, Albert, and I must say I am much obliged for your help and good sense. Since I don't remember last night very well, I'm almost certain that without your assistance I might well have come to mischief or injury; I am much obliged. I hope your breakfast was sufficient?"

  Albert smiled hugely. "Well, then, let's be on with the day," said Tim as he rose from the chair, gathering the remnants of their meal onto the tray which he handed to Albert. He picked up his wallet and gloves
and gestured for the door. "Just leave the tray out in the hall, Albert; young Tompkins will come up for it later. Here's tuppence for the tray." Albert dropped the coin onto a crumpled white napkin, and through the doorway they ambled, down the stairs and into the street.

  Winter clouds hovered over the church steeples, cloaking them in sooty tatters. Tiny snowflakes swirled freely about, and a stealthy wind crept slowly about their legs and up their bodies, shifting coats and hats as it traveled. Albert shivered, Tim noticed. Five minutes later Albert was covered almost to his knees with an overlarge but comfortably warm coat, borrowed from Mrs. Tompkins' younger son James.

  "This is just fine, sir. Now, what is it you'll be wanting for the lady's gift? I know a nice jewelry shop over on new Bond Street. It's just up Swallow, and we can go across Hanover Square, it being a cold day and the quickest way. Very nice this time of year." Albert's eyes sparkled. "And besides, I like to see the snow on the trees, not as pretty as your little tree, sir, but right nice. They remind me of the little sugared buns that John Baker makes for Sundays, all covered with white sugary loops. I never had one, but I'll wager they taste as good as they are pretty. Well then, shall we be off? Oh, and are there any other places you'll be wanting to visit today, sir?" Albert wriggled his shoulders gratefully into the warmth of the coat and peered up at Tim, smiling all the while, trust and good fellowship written plainly in his face.

  Looking down into the young boy's happy face, Tim marveled at the resilience of the poor young boy, poor in things of the world, but rich in the things of the spirit. Albert endured uncomplainingly and profited from his experiences. He went without when he had to, was grateful when he did not, and worked ambitiously to garner whatever he needed. He made the most of his opportunities, abjured the creed of the desperate, and lifted his head high to the shame of no man. He seemed an unreasonably happy child, this child of poverty, although there was great sadness behind his engaging grin. Something must be done to help him, to set him on a better path, considered Tim. I shall talk it over with Albert today, he thought. But for the moment…