A CHRISTmas Story ...

CHRISTMAS IN THE PASTURE

The little old house was looking mighty beat up from the last winter storm, however the glow from the lights that could be seen from the bridge were so warm and inviting it was always the highlight of getting off work and coming home!  As you traveled down the dirt road and crossed the bridge the house could be seen from a distance!

The cattle were unusually close to the fence it seemed that every Christmas eve they would draw close to the little house in hope that the song that rings so beautifully would fill the air once again!  The little house was centered in a pasture that was separated by a beautiful white fence.

The young mother was coming home from a long Christmas Eve hitch at the Dandy Dime country store.  She was very tired and was looking forward to seeing the one thing that keeps her going and always renewed her strength the minute she rushed through the old broken down screen door.

She recalled how a few years back she longed for the big city and was so sick of the pasture.  She longed for the excitement of the inner city life with all the trappings of the world and everything that went along with the freedom of leaving home. Now, as she tearfully gazes at the beat up old house and sees the object of her heart’s love sitting in the curtain less window she paused for a moment and thanked the Lord for bringing her back safe and sound to that old house in the pasture.

She recalled how lonely and lost she felt in that city. No one to talk to that really understood her. Not one person could feel her heart’s cry the way her Mama did. The many lonely nights that she sat all alone in the dark waiting for a chance to share the good news she had just found out, she was with child. And then she finds herself, on a bus headed back to the one place she despised so much.

As she pulls into the drive way, which is grass and very well worn from the many trips to the Dandy Dime she spots this little, tiny girl sitting on the window sill watching the cattle as they ate their evening meal.  The porch light caught a glimmer of her golden curls as she exclaimed in excitement, “Mommie’s home!” At that very moment the young woman realized just how blessed she was and how much she adored this little house in the pasture.

She rushes through the door way and is met by the biggest hug that a little, tiny three year old could give. Nothing could compare to the love that she felt at that moment.  Mommie! Mommie! Did you see the cows?  Mommie! Mommie! Can we feed the chickens?  Well a few years ago feeding those chickens would have made her angry, but now it was the highlight of her evening. “Yes, Moriah we can feed the chickens!” 

Mama was in the kitchen preparing a quick supper and she called and said, “Don’t forget to gather the eggs girls; I did not get a chance to do that today.”  As the two headed out to the pasture Moriah asked her mom something that brought back so many memories from years past.  Years that she wanted to just forget.  Mommie, she exclaimed! Grandee said we have to give Jesus something special tonight. She said that if we give Him something from our heart that’s what He likes the most.  The young woman recalled those years that she and her brother and sister were taught the same thing.

But this time, coming from her own daughter’s mouth a change took place inside her spirit.  At first she had no answer but the little girl was persistent.  Mommie, “What is your heart’s gift to Jesus”? The young woman was quiet and began to speak with a very shaky voice.  “This year Moriah, I offer Him not only my heart’s gift but the gift from His heart that He gave me”, she said crying.

“Don’t cry Mommie, Jesus loves you”. “I know Moriah, because He gave me you”.  They fed the chickens and gathered the eggs and then rushed inside the little, old house.  Grandee! Grandee! She squealed.  Mommie has a heart gift for Jesus! The grandmother turned around and looked at the tear stained face of her daughter and questioned, “Oh child what’s the matter?” Her daughter never was a big talker.  Seems she did most of the talking herself for years when it came to their conversations.  Then this year this little, golden haired girl had all the words so none were needed.

The mixing bowl was ready for the cake batter; the daughter could see it on the counter.  “What flavor is His desire this year Momma”, she asked? This was the first time in many years of the Christmas Eve tradition that their family shared that the tone of her voice was not sarcastic and was sweet and drenched with love.  Ever since the first Christmas that this little family had come to know Christ their Christmas Eve celebrations became a unique gift to the Father of Heaven.

For years they spent hours wrapping presents, stringing lights, and cooking all sorts of delicacies.  For years, arguing was the main music of the houses past.  But in an instant the motives were changed to bring a warm glow and hug to the One person that meant so much to the Mother.  Every year at 12:00am Christmas morning the woman and her three children would request in prayer what the Lord wanted to hear for His birthday.  The Mother would always ask, “What does Your heart Lord desire of ours?”  The children were never really paying attention but the Mother was always attentive to the Lord’s heart.

She had always baked a cake the night of Christmas Eve and they would get the CD player, and go out in the middle of that pasture and play the one song she felt in her spirit that the Lord has requested of her.  The candle was lit.  The children were in place and the music started.  The daughter would always open her eyes to see what would happen when her mother would begin the song.  You could here the rustle of feet and the scurrying of wings and when you looked up over the fence you could see that the cattle had made their way right up against it.  Even the birds and the chickens nestled on the fence.

The daughter recalled how she watched as her mother sung each word with tears streaming down her face.  She watched as the cattle bowed their heads and the chickens seemed to fall asleep under the power of the music.  It was as if you could hear the words for miles around.  Not one sound interrupted that song.  Not one word was uttered until it was finished.  Then, eyes were dried, the knife was brought out and with the loudest shouts they would all scream, “Happy Birthday Jesus!”

For years the young woman despised that tradition.  Then this year her heart would change as she was led to that very same pasture once again.  Mommie! Mommie! Moriah exclaimed! “What kind of cake would Jesus like this year?” The young woman was speechless. She and her daughter had only been back in the pasture for three years and it seemed that the Mother’s tradition was firmly planted into this little child’s spirit.  Once again the child squealed, “Mommie, what kind of cake?”  Finally the young woman spoke and said, “Let’s do something different this year”, her mother looked puzzled and raised her eyebrow in disapproval.  “What Mommie! What Mommie”, the child exclaimed.  “How bout you choose the flavor”, she said swooshing the little girl into her arms. The mother looked relieved and the young woman was met with squeals of joy!

Oh Grandee! Oh Grandee can I? The grandmother had to wipe tears before answering her granddaughter.  “Yes Moriah you surely can’, she said as she bent down and kissed the top of those beautiful golden curls.  “Well let’s get started child its close to midnight”, said the grandmother..  “Ok, Grandee, this is the one”, the little girl said with the box of mix in her hand.  “What a glorious choice you have made Moriah.”  She looked at the box of red velvet cake mix and asked her granddaughter why she had chosen this one.  The little girl replied, “Red for His blood, white because He’s pure and velvet because that’s what His kisses feel like.”  The grandmother was crying once again but to her amazement in the corner of that dimly lit old kitchen was her daughter sitting crying also.

The cake was in the oven, Moriah had her bath and the young woman was expecting her baby daughter to fall fast asleep.  But she remembered the song.  She told her momma, “Mommie what does Jesus want to hear on His birthday this year?”  The young woman once again looked puzzled.  The grandmother chimed in, “Let’s do something different this year.” This time the daughter looked at her mother with amazement and with a raised eyebrow,  “Let’s let you choose Moriah,” said the grandmother.  “Oh I know Grandee! Oh I know” the little girl squealed.  She ran to her ‘music box’ and pointed to the one song that had been in her grandmother’s spirit all day. “Ok said the grandmother, this one it shall be.”

Now Moriah could not tell time yet but she knew it was getting close to the hour.  The cake was done, the icing was on and the candle was in place.  Her grandmother grabbed the knife and the CD player and also coats because it was bitter cold out there.  The three of them bundled up warm and made their way out into the pasture.  Moriah was in her Mommie’s arms and Grandee had the cake and music.  They looked at the watch and just as it became Christmas Day the music was put on but something was different. This year the most glorious sound came from the sweet mouth of the tiniest little girl.

As she listened to the music she began to sing the words, then she got down and danced for the Lord the most beautiful dance you have ever seen. Twirling and whirling as if she was right there at His feet.  But, He was there! Right there watching this tiny child bring Him glory with the only gift she knew how to give. Her heart!  You could hear her, “Would I stand in Your presence or to my knees would I bow.”  As she bowed on her tiny knees you could see the animals kneeling also.  Right there, in the middle of that pasture for the first time in years the young woman made it to her knees and cried with her heart, “Thank You Lord for the greatest gift I will ever receive in my whole life, a child that knows You and feels Your heart and for my salvation.” The grandmother was sobbing as she watched the two generations finally come to the knowledge that, “No Moriah, and Dawwna there is no Santa Claus, but there is a Jesus!”

From: “His Heart Is My Pen”….

A  Christmas 2006 Original