All I Want for Christmas

by Jenn Faulk

“I had a bad moment,” Tate said, running his hands through his hair. “It’s just that the disappointment of that, hating myself because I’d even hoped it –”

  “Tate…”

  “And the thought of Lucy gone, with my dad already out there as well, and my mother…”

  He stopped talking, but Edie could fill in the rest.

  His mother, gone in a more permanent sense, yes. Tate was still working through so much.

  He looked up at her. “It’s big, you know?”

  “It’s huge,” she agreed, thinking even as she said it that despite how big it was, it still didn’t warrant his reaction, the extreme way he’d blown up at Lucy and stormed out.

  Tate shook his head.

  “And I’m about to get fired from my first real pastoral position,” he said, hitting on what was really bothering him, what had likely been bothering him for months now, “and I don’t even know what I’m going to do if I can’t make it as a pastor, where we’ll live when they throw us out of the parsonage, how I’ll support us when I don’t have any skills apart from making coffee, after all these years of college and seminary and –”

  “Oh, praise God,” Edie couldn’t keep from saying. Because every word from Tate now was true and honest, an echo of all that she was feeling, the best indication that they’d been on the same road together all this time.

  And that, simply knowing that, was the comfort she’d been looking for. She could face all that might be ahead – unemployment, ministry hurts, uncertainty – if she knew that she and Tate were together, truly together, in it.

  She didn’t feel like they were stuck anymore. Not like they had been, not if they were together, not if they could be honest with each other.

  Praise God.

  “What?” he asked. “Are you seriously praising God that we just might lose everything?”

  “We won’t lose everything,” she said, smiling at him now. “Or I don’t know, maybe we will.”

  “Which is a reason to praise God?” he asked, staring at her.

  She smiled wider, though, unable to help herself as she felt, for the first time in months, that they were finally on the same page together.

  “Tate,” she said, her arms around him now. “I thought I was the only one struggling with this, with what’s up ahead, with all of the worry.”

  “I don’t want you to worry,” he said. “That’s why I’ve not said anything, why I’ve been doing my best to hold it together, to have faith –”

  “And that’s admirable, Tate, but you’re human,” she said. “Crisis of faith. It happens.”

  Boy, did she know that. This whole experience, this life ahead of her as a pastor’s wife, was a hard exercise in faith. And she’d been struggling.

  So had Tate, who looked at her with such sadness in his eyes.

  “But I just want to be better,” he said softly. “To be better than a guy who can get discouraged by the smallest things.”

  “These haven’t been small things,” she said, thinking through the worst of what they’d been through.

  “But I want to be better no matter what –”

  “And all I want is you, Tate,” she said.

  He shook his head, ready to argue.

  But she pressed on. “All I want is you… for you to be real, to be honest,” she said. “To be godly, to strive for greater faith, yes, of course… but be you, Tate, as you’re going through it.”

  He considered this for a long moment, looking at his clasped hands.

  “I feel like a failure,” he said.

  Who wouldn’t, after all he’d been through, all the slander and the hurtful comments that had come his way?

  “You’re not a failure,” she said. “You’re being faithful. And I’m with you. And you and I don’t need to put on a show with one another. Be you, Tate. Because you and I are one, and you can be you with me.” She took a breath. “And I’m sorry that I’ve been so negative about it all. There’s a way to be supportive, to suffer through the hard parts of ministry with you, without dragging you down even further.”

  “How?” he asked.

  She was drawing a complete blank.

  “I have no idea,” she said, laughing out loud as she said it, surprised to see that after he stared at her for a long, confused moment, he smiled as well.

  She loved that smile. This genuine smile, which was nothing like the smile he wore so often lately here in this place.

  And then, that smile slipped from his lips.

  “Maybe it’s not right for me to leave my family on Christmas,” he said softly. “Maybe it’s not right for me to drop everything for the church every time they think they need me.”

  He couldn’t be Jesus, but the church sure seemed to expect him to be sometimes.

  But…

  “Maybe, Tate,” she said softly. “But I don’t think there are any hard and fast rules for what it’s going to look like. What it should look like. Ministry, that is. And maybe we’re just going to have to take things as they come, not jumping and making decisions to please people, but prayerfully searching our hearts and seeking God so that we can make decisions to please Him.”

  Tate nodded. “That sounds so good.”

  “It sounds downright inspired,” she agreed. “And I can’t even believe that it came out of my mouth, because… wow. Inspired.”

  “And what does that look like on a practical level?”

  “I have no idea,” she said, laughing out loud. “I’m new to this, after all.”

  “To this,” he said. “Ministry.”

  “And marriage,” she said. “And being a pastor’s wife. And living away from home. And teaching. And parenthood.” She blew out a long breath. “I’m new to everything, actually. Wow.”

  He watched her with concern.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said. “It’s not always bad being a total newbie. Most of the staff at the school are nicer to me because of it, likely because they don’t want to scare me off like any sane person would be after teaching high school for a semester.”

  “See that’s another thing,” Tate sighed.

  “What do you mean that’s another thing?”

  “You hate your job,” he said. “And you’re only stuck in it because of me. Because you came here to be with me.”

  She thought of what she’d left. Glen, the All Shook Up theater, all that Elvis music, doing what she loved…

  She’d do it again. Not because of Tate but because this was what God had willed for her life. Obedience even in uncertainty. She could be certain of God’s will in that. Why had she been so bitter when she could be certain of what God was doing?

  She still had so much to learn, so much faith to grow into…

  “I came here because it was God’s will for my life, for our life,” she said, reaffirming it even as she said the words. “And my job… well, I’m coming around to it. Theater, art – I’m well on my way to being the kooky, eccentric fine arts faculty member.”

  He smiled even more at this.

  “I mean, I really feel like I’m fulfilling my destiny as far as that goes,” she said. “Crazy Edie.”

  “I like Crazy Edie,” Tate said.

  “Most people do,” Edie shrugged. “Except for the church people. They kind of hate the old broad sometimes. I mean, they don’t even like my giant inflatable Elvis.”

  But she was finding that it didn’t hurt like it had, didn’t matter as much as it did, with Tate here with her – really with her.

  Praise God for that.

  “We’re going to be okay, right?” Tate asked softly. “You and me?”

  “You, me, and Elvis,” she said, knowing it with certainty. “You, Crazy Edie, and probably Crazy Elvis, too, because he’ll have my genes. And he’s going to be named Elvis so… I mean, he’s going to have to be a little eccentric because of that name alone, right?”

  “Right,” Tate said, looking more peaceful than he had. “And I like Crazy Edie, like I said.
” At this, he moved closer, his lips inches from hers. “In fact, I love Crazy Edie.”

  She could deal with whatever came their way, good or bad on this ministry road, as long as Tate was by her side, as long as they were communicating like this, and as long as she could trust that they would stay this way.

  Together. No matter what came their way. The pastor and Crazy Edie.

  Together.

  “And that,” she said, leaning into his kiss, “is good enough for me.”

  ~Lucy~

  It went worse than she had imagined it could.

  Tate was so angry at her. So much so that it was nearly irrational.

  Boy, Lucy could relate to that. How many times had she felt that same irrational anger in the weeks and months following her mother’s death? How often had she directed it at someone else over something inconsequential?

  Plenty of times. She would probably do it all over again. And though her move to Namibia certainly wasn’t inconsequential, she knew that in the grand scheme of things, it certainly hadn’t warranted the reaction that Tate had.

  She was thankful that Edie had gone on to find him, that Hannah had disappeared to another room, and that Bethany was still back in the play kitchen, now armed with her gifts, ready to cook up a gourmet meal for her new stuffed animals.

  It left her alone with Jude, who wasted no time in trying to comfort her.

  “Hey, he didn’t mean half of what he just said, Lucy,” he said soothingly, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I know,” she said, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. “I know that he was speaking from a lot of hurt and a lot of frustration…”

  Not unlike she’d done herself a time or two. And who had been there to feel the brunt of her hurt but Jude himself, who was watching her sympathetically even as she took in another wavering breath?

  “Thank you,” she said softly, her hands on his face.

  “For what?” he asked.

  She thought about those first few months of marriage, when her grief had still been so new, when it seemed as though everything reminded her of her mother and all that she’d lost. Grief didn’t play fair, didn’t manifest itself logically, or even make sense most days. It was just there, and more often than not, it was ugly and hurtful and piercing.

  She’d said some awful things and acted in some awful ways with Jude those first few months. There had been so many adjustments, so much stress…

  He’d taken it all, loving her despite the grief and what it did to her, what she did to him.

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “For understanding,” she said simply. “For understanding… all of me.”

  He was the smartest, most insightful man in the world if he could manage that impossible feat, she thought.

  And like that, Jude picked up on something that she hadn’t.

  “Is it Tate you’re worried about?” he asked softly. “Because when he gets beyond this, what he’s struggling with – and, Lucy, he will get through it…”

  He would. She knew this. She nodded even as Jude said it.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Jude said. “He and Edie are going to be okay, relying on one another and on the Lord, doing what God has set them apart to do. He doesn’t need you here, Lucy.”

  Lucy bit her lip, the tears escaping her eyes.

  And then, Jude heard what Lucy hadn’t even been able to say to herself. One flesh, understanding her better than she deserved…

  “Or have I had it wrong all along?” Jude asked, practically whispering it now as he moved even closer to her, their faces only a few inches apart. “Are you the one who needs him?”

  Lucy looked up from her hands, meeting his eyes.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  That was the truth. A painful truth that she’d not acknowledged until now. There would be her father, back in her life every day, just like he’d been before. But Tate wouldn’t be there, and that connection to her mother, to all that they’d lost…

  “I didn’t realize that there was so much tied up in him,” she said softly. “And not just him, Jude, but…”

  She trailed off, shaking her head.

  “What? Say it, Lucy.”

  “He’s the only other one in all the world that knew my mother like I knew her,” she practically whispered. “And that means… that means something to me.”

  Jude didn’t offer any words – no advice, no platitudes, and no thoughts that came short of what Lucy really needed to hear.

  No, all he did was pull her closer and hold her, saying everything without uttering a single word.

  Tate and Edie returned to the parsonage an hour later.

  Hannah had come into the living room to find Jude and Lucy sitting together quietly, and she’d stepped back out, leaving them in their silence, and joining Bethany in the guest room, where Lucy could hear the two playing. It was only a few minutes later when Tate and Edie came in, laughing together.

  Well, that was definitely an improvement from their earlier tension. And when Edie met Lucy’s eyes, there was definitely a more peaceful shine in her gaze.

  “Hey,” Edie said, squeezing Tate’s hand as he met Lucy’s eyes as well. “Maybe Jude and I can work on getting something together for a late dinner, huh?”

  “Are you still hungry, Edie?” Jude asked, disbelieving.

  “Jude,” Lucy said softly, thankful that her sister-in-law was attempting to give her and Tate some privacy for this conversation.

  “Oh, ja, that’s right,” Jude said, taking the hint and getting onto his feet. “And I should prepare myself. Pregnant women eat a lot.”

  “Hey, congrats, brother,” Tate said, reaching his hand out for Jude’s, finally.

  And Jude looked at it for a brief moment before pulling Tate into a hug.

  Lucy blinked back tears at this.

  “And to you,” Jude said, slapping him on the back. “Elvis Anderson.”

  “Yeah,” Tate said, smiling now.

  And with another understanding glance towards Lucy, Jude left the room.

  Lucy swallowed, unsure how to start this conversation with her brother, not knowing if she should start with an apology, if she’d be able to even get it out without bursting into tears yet again –

  “And I didn’t tell you congratulations either,” Tate said softly. “Congratulations, Lucy. Another baby. Wow.”

  She nodded, on the verge of tears again.

  “And Namibia,” Tate said, appearing choked up himself. “That’s… wow.”

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, blinking back her tears furiously. “We would have told you sooner, Tate, but we were getting everything in order, and…”

  It was so hard. It hurt her heart, the thought of telling him.

  “What are you going to do there?” Tate asked, a faint smile on his lips. “You and Jude. What are your plans?”

  “Jude’s going to be doing music for one of the big churches in Swakopmund,” she said, taking a little breath. “And I’ll be teaching elementary school, so… more the same of what we’ve been doing here in the States. Just in Namibia.”

  Far, far away.

  “I always did love Namibia,” Tate said thoughtfully, his smile disappearing. “And I’m sorry that I reacted the wrong way. Forgive me?”

  Did he even need to ask?

  She didn’t answer him, just rushed to him and put her arms around him, finally giving into her tears.

  And Jude’s words came back to her.

  Was it Tate that needed her… or was it that she needed Tate?

  “I’m going to miss you,” she cried, holding him tighter. “Tate, I’m going to miss you so much.”

  And she felt it even more acutely, as Tate, his arms around her as well, leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

  Just like their mother always had.

  She closed her eyes tighter at this, at the wave of grief that hit again, marveling at how it washed away slowly, as Tate murmured reassurances.

  “I
get it, Lucy,” he whispered. “I really do.”

  Oh, the grief that only the two of them understood because they’d lived it together. But their mother was never gone. She lived on in them both, and it was never clearer than in moments like this, when the two siblings brought unexpected comfort to one another’s hearts, sharing an understanding that no one else could.

  So it was no wonder that Tate knew exactly what to say.

  “She’d be so proud of how you’re living your life,” he whispered, his own voice choked as he backed away to hold her face in his hands. “The wife and mother you’ve become. The teacher you’re going to be there. How brave you’re being, ready to go on this new adventure. She would have loved that, Lucy.”

  Would she? Lucy hoped so. She lived her life for the pleasure of the Lord, to please Him in everything she did, but Beth was connected to that as well. How could she not be when they’d been true sisters in Christ?

  “Really?” she whispered.

  “Really.”

  “You, too,” she managed, choked up again, thinking of the man Tate had become. “She’d love who you are. A husband. A good husband. A father. And a pastor.”

  “A pastor who’s about to get run out of his church,” Tate said, shrugging.

  Oh, the discouragement there. If Lucy could fix it, could say the right thing…

  “And Mom would have known all about that,” she said. “About conflict in ministry. What was it she used to say? Never trust a pastor who hasn’t been run out of at least one church?”

  He smiled at this. “She did get it. There was that church she and dad left in Arkansas…”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Did we get run out of that church?”

  “I wasn’t born yet,” he said. “So technically, you, Mom, and Dad got run out of that one.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Dad and I talk about these things,” Tate said, a little laugh in the statement. “Brotherhood of the pastorate. It’s his thing. Doesn’t even talk about it with any sadness anymore. Talks about it all like it was a big adventure.”

  She hadn’t known that Tate and Joey had these conversations, that they were as close as they were even with the distance between them.

  This gave her hope.