Light From Heaven (73 page)

He couldn’t wait any longer for it to drop down at his feet, already gift-wrapped. What he needed was a consultant.

“Katherine? It’s Tim.”

“Teds! How good to hear your voice! A blessed Advent.”

“And to you and Walter. I’m fairly desperate...”

“A gift for Cynthia?”

“Yes. I’m vicar, now, as you know, of a mission church, and time slipped up on me. I keep drawing a blank.”

“Pearls? She seems a pearl kind of girl to me.”

“I don’t know. Maybe a cross?” Quite suddenly, his mind was working. “I’ve never given her a really nice cross.”

“This is so simple. Do you have a pen?”

“I have.”

“Write down sapphires, they’ll complement her gorgeous eyes. Platinum setting. Eighteen-inch chain. The jewelry department at Tiffany. Here’s the number.”

He scratched down the number. “Is this going to cost the moon?”

“Shameful that you’d ask! Merely the North Star, or possibly Orion, but not the moon.”

Since their birthdays in June and July, he was seventy; Cynthia was sixty-four. They didn’t have forever and a day.

“Done!” he said, feeling brighter. “I’m in your debt.”

His teetotaling “cousin” laughed. “Buy me a ginger ale in an Irish pub.”

Miss Martha had supervised the greening of the church this afternoon. The sharp, pungent odor of pine and cedar filled the nave; sticks of hardwood burned bright in the firebox.

“In the name of the Father ...”

He crossed himself. “... and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“I wrote a sermon this week, but discovered something as I reflected upon it.

“It told us more than we need to know.”

Someone chuckled. He could have some fun with that, but time was of the essence; a big snow was predicted for tonight.

“Well, Lord, I said, please give me what we do need to know. And He did.

“As many of you are aware, this pulpit was built and beautifully hand carved by one of our own—Clarence Merton. The church was not open when he did it; in fact, there was no earthly assurance that it would ever be open again.

“Yet Clarence chose to make this pulpit, anyway.

“Why would he do that? He did it to the glory of God.

“And then, a vandal broke in, and he took out a knife and began to do his own carving, right on this magnificent pulpit.”

Someone gasped.

“For those of you who haven’t seen that particular carving, it’s right here.” He leaned to his left and made a gesture toward the oak side-panel.

“I consider it to constitute the most profound sermon that could be preached from this or any other pulpit.

“‘JC,’ it reads, ‘loves CM.’

“When Agnes and Clarence saw what had been done, they might have wept. But what did they do? They gave thanks.

“They might have felt it a sacrilege. But what did they do? They considered it a word from God.

“JC, Jesus Christ ... loves CM, Clarence Merton.”

A relieved murmur sounded among the congregants.

“The thrilling thing about this inscription is that it’s filled with truth, not just for Clarence Merton, but for every one of us on this hallowed eve of His birth.

“In everything God has told us in His Word, He makes one thing very clear:

“He loves us.

“Not merely as a faceless world population, but one by one.

“J.C., Jesus Christ, loves you, Miss Martha. He loves you, Miss Mary. He loves you, Jubal.

“And you and you and you—individually, and by name. ‘My sheep hear my voice,’ He says, ‘and I call them by name.’

“On this eve of His birth, some of you may still be asking the age-old question, Why was I born?

“In the book of Revelation, we’re told that He made all things—that would include us!—for Himself. Why would He do that? For His pleasure, Scripture says.

“There’s your answer. You were made by Him ... and for Him, for His good pleasure.

“Selah! Think upon that.

“And why was
He
born?

“He came that we might have life. New life, in Him. What does this gift of new life in Him mean? In the weeks to come, we’ll talk about what it means, and how it has the power to refine and strengthen and transform us, and deliver us out of darkness into light.

“Right now, Clarence has a gift for every one in this room. And a wonderful gift it is.” He nodded to his crucifer. “Would you come forward, Clarence?”

Clarence came forward, carrying a large, flat, polished board.

He held it aloft for all to see.

“Oak,” said the vicar. “White oak, the queen of the forest.

“This is a place for us to carve our own inscription, like the one on the pulpit. The board will be here every Sunday until Easter, and whoever wishes to do it will get help from Clarence, if needed. You don’t even have to bring your own knife, we have one. When that’s done, we’ll hang the board on the wall over there, where years later, others can see it, and be reminded that He loves them, too.”

He gazed a moment at the faces before him, at those whom God had given into his hand.
Shine, Preacher! In thy place
...

“For God so loved the world,” he said, “that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever ...”

Many of the congregants joined their voices with his as they spoke the verse from the Gospel of John.

“... believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

“For this hour,” he said, “that’s all we need to know”

As the congregation and choir sang a hushed a cappella, he processed along the aisle behind Violet, Dooley, Lloyd, Rooter, and Clarence to the narthex.

He saw the wrapped box on the card table. Clarence was beaming.
For yon,
Clarence signed, handing the gift to his vicar.

“Merry Christmas!” Lloyd shook his hand with a forceful grip.

“Merry Christmas, Lloyd,Violet.”

“Lily’ll have ever’thing in place when you git home,” said Violet. “Y’all don’t have t’ lift a finger. Hope you like it, an’ Merry Christmas!”

Agnes took his hand. “Joyeux Noel, Father!”

Rooter planted himself by the vicar’s side, signing the message they’d learned at Homecoming. Not everyone had remembered. “F‘r ever’ three people I sign it to, hain’t but one signs it back,” he reported.

“Pretty good numbers,” said Father Tim.

“Lord he‘p a monkey,” said Jubal, “they’re callin’ f‘r eight t’ ten inches.” He pulled a faded wool cap over his head.

“Who’s taking you home?”

“Donny, he’s takin’ me. I’m burnin’ ’at horn lamp ye give me.”

“I saw it in your window coming by. How’s little Miss Agnes?”

The old man grinned. “A awful handful.”

The vicar laughed. “She gets it honest,” he said, putting his arm around Jubal.

“Was that a snowflake?” asked Lace. “It was! It was a snowflake!”

“We’re out of here,” said Father Tim.

The snow was falling thick and fast by the time they turned into the driveway at Meadowgate. The wreaths on the gateposts had a fine topping of snow, and the wipers had already pushed a good bit of it to either side of the windshield.

Everyone but Miss Lottie would be here tonight—she had chosen the cheer of her own fireside.

He saw Lon Burtie’s and Harley’s venerable pickup trucks, and the van from Hope House, its tires outfitted with chains. And there was Dooley’s truck, which had gone ahead of them from Holy Trinity, and Lace’s BMW, and an SUV, which would be Pete Jamison’s ...

Every window of the old farmhouse gleamed with light.

As he parked the farm truck, he saw headlights coming up the drive behind him. That would be Blake’s van.

“Grand Central Station,” he said, kissing his wife.

He left the motor running, eyeing the gift she held in her lap. “I confess I can’t wait to see what Clarence gave me.”

“What’s wrong with right now?”

“Cynthia, Cynthia!” When it came to the business of when and when not to open a Christmas gift, his wife didn’t share his more conservative conventions. “OK, Kavanagh. Go for it.”

She untied the red ribbon and tore open the gift wrap, and chucked the whole caboodle to the floor.

“You lift the lid,” she said.

He peered into the box by the light of the outdoor lamp; the wipers were still flinging snow off the windshield.

Bears. Black. Three, four, five of them. Two large, like the one he’d seen in Clarence’s studio, and three small.

“Oh,” she said.

He picked up one of the large carved bears and turned it in his hand, moved.

She read the card. “ ‘Thank you for making us a family again. Merry Christmas, the Mertons.’”

He didn’t think he should try to speak just then.

“You know, Timothy you have a gift for doing that—for making people into a family again.”

She took the bear, and placed it in the box and replaced the lid.

Then she smiled. “Let’s go in where it’s warm.”