The Christmas Lamp (14 page)
“We’ll fill Mom’s old house to the rafters,” she murmured then glanced up. “Children? We? Isn’t this all rather sudden. You and me … marriage.”
“How long does it take to fall in love?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think there’s a ‘normal’ time frame.”
“It took less than a week for me to know how I felt about you.”
She frowned. “It took you a
week
?”
He quirked a brow. “How long did it take you?”
“Truthfully?” She grinned. “About the same time.”
Overwhelmed, Roni stepped back into his arms. He had given her the greatest Christmas present ever. Love, tradition, and a home. It made the set of sockets she’d purchased for him at Steil’s look puny. At the moment she felt like she would follow him to the ends of the earth, but Nativity was home. Springfield was nice, but this town was her life. Could she leave? Even for this wonderful man?
“Jake. I know this is all so new to both of us, but I love it here. Where will we call home?”
Smiling, he met her expectant gaze. “That’s up to you and the town. I’d like to run the transformation, but folks here might feel differently. I’m not exactly their favorite person.”
“Nonsense. Most understand what you’ve done, and the ones who don’t will answer to me. You saved the town.”
“It’s not saved yet,” he corrected. “The town will still have to sacrifice; in order for the plan to work everyone has to pull together. There’s still much to be done.”
Their lips touched, then lingered. Finally she whispered. “I love you, Jake Brisco.”
“The feeling is mutual, Roni Elliot. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
Offering his arm, he said, “Hey. Before we attend Christmas Eve ser vices, could we get a cup of that hot chocolate with that candy cane that you’re always harping about?”
“Harping!” She playfully boxed his shoulder. “Just for that remark we don’t have time, but we will later. And we’ll skate.” She paused and looked at him. “How did you know we have hot chocolate this year?”
“Because there’s not much about you that I don’t know, Roni Elliott. Dusty Bitterman’s told me your whole life’s story over recent lunches. He thought the information might come in handy since — and these are his words — ‘Eventually I’m not going to be able to live without you’.”
“And to know me is to love me,” she agreed.
He winked. “I’m still adjusting to the idea.”
Tucking her arm through his, Jake proceeded to the church where the ringing bell beckoned worshipers. As Roni climbed the stairs ahead of him, he paused and turned to look up. Overhead, flickering starlight formed a frosty canopy.
Thanks
, he said softly.
I owe you one.
Copeland Christmases are loud and fun. Every year God blesses our lives with growth: new babies, new girlfriends, and new wives. The immediate family now totals sixteen and growing. Audrey was the lone granddaughter until December 7, 2008, when Anabelle joined the crowd.
We begin our Christmas Eve celebration with a church service, then head home to eat enchiladas. I know, enchiladas aren’t exactly a festive dish, but it’s my family’s most requested holiday meal. I’m not a big decorator anymore, but we have a tree and presents. The smallest children get to play “Santa.” They deliver the mound of packages to each recipient seated in a circle. We agree to open one gift at time, when it’s our turn, so everyone can see and enjoy the surprise, but after the second or third present chaos breaks out and all semblance of order is gone.
As I wrote
The Christmas Lamp
, I realized that tradition is priceless, whether you have a small family, a large family, or no family. I don’t have any one particular custom other than the tree, presents, and our Christmas Eve church service. This particular sacred hour draws our family into an indelible bond, one we remember all year long, though we may not see each other for weeks at a time. We attend different churches, different denominations, but on Christmas Eve we are one.
As God always does, he gives me an idea and weeks later I see the evidence of his hand in the project.
We live thirty miles from Branson, Missouri, and we visit the town and the Landing often. There’s a five and ten in the ‘old downtown’ district. One day we parked in front of the five and ten store, and there it was. The lamp. The gaudy, fishnet stocking leg featured in my favorite holiday classic film,
A Christmas Story.
I had to have that lamp.
It happened to be my birthday, and my husband had asked for the third or fourth time what I wanted? When I saw the lamp I said, “That lamp.” He laughed and we walked on through the store. At least twice more, I said I wanted the lamp, and every time he would laugh or say, “You can’t be serious.” But I was serious. When I left the store without the lamp I was hopping mad. How dare he ask what I wanted for my birthday, and then laugh when I told him? I suppose it finally sank in that I actually wanted the lamp when I wouldn’t speak to him on the way home. Forgive me, Lord.
The next morning, he announced that we were going back to Branson to get the lamp. With a sincere hug, he apologized and asked for forgiveness; he really
didn’t
believe that I would want that lamp in our home. To him, the lamp was a garish gadget with no significance. To me, it represented family struggles, raising children, man and woman accepting each other’s faults and loving each other anyway — the true heart of Christmas, and Christ’s love in admittedly, a different form.
We purchased the lamp, and last Thanksgiving night we ceremoniously placed the lamp in the window, where it will sit each Christmas season. The children had a wonderful time assembling the lamp, and I even heard some giggles and laughs from the adults.
I pray they will see it as a joyful tradition they will carry on with their children and grandchildren. Maybe they’ll even argue over it like fine china. Tradition doesn’t have to be logical; it only has to emphasize the light of Christ and his everlasting love. When I turn on the leg lamp, I’ll remember the one who has given me a sense of humor, and a heart filled with gratitude for the light that he has brought into my life.
May God richly bless you and his light shine in your life all year through.
Merry Christmas,
Lori Copeland
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Hardcover, Jacketed: 978-0-310-27226-7
Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!
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Since his fiance left him, Warren is done with women — especially independent women, which he’d guess describes Katie Addison to a tee. Reluctantly he agrees to help Katie with her financial troubles. But when his budget doesn’t include Katie’s daily lattes, Warren realizes he may have a challenging client on his hands.
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Softcover: 978-0-310-26351-7
Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!
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