Winter Memory

I remember one Christmas when I lived in Cedar City and was a senior in high school (1967). My dad traveled at the time with our race horses. He wouldn't be home until Christmas day. My brother, the only kid left at home besides me, traveled with our dad. My brother, a natural athlete, rode the horses. My mother worked an evening job and had to work Christmas Eve. So, I was home alone.

I received a Christmas gift from a boy I knew who was in Viet Nam. My mom told me I could open his gift since I would be home alone that Christmas Eve.

As the day turned dark, I turned on the Christmas tree lights. Back then, they were the big kind and blinked on and off. The lights and the shiny glass bulbs were all different colors. Branches on the tree, laden with silver icicles, sparkled as the lights blinked. The deep snow that year gleamed a pure white glow from the moon which was big, round and bright.

Across from our house, a field remained unmarred from footprints. The snow formed a soft white mantle; the trees looked strange with the branches bare. A slight breeze made the trees look like skeletons reaching for the stars. The moon shined in our living room window, and cast our tree in a soft silver glow. It was a perfect night, at a perfect time of year.

I remember sitting close to the little coal furnace (they were called stokermatics) across from the tree, and picking up the gift while shaking it this way and that. It was not too heavy, but had some bulk and there was a soft swishing sound as I shook it which left me wondering just what I was receiving from that far away land.

Vietnam Countryside

I started to carefully open the package, trying not to tear the wrapping. I loosened the tape, then silently unfolded the bright cheery paper. There inside lay beautiful yellow silk oriental pajamas! I had never seen, or hoped to have, something so elegant.

As I removed them from the package, I put them against my cheek to feel the cool, smooth, soft fabric. As I set them aside, I saw a beautiful golden box. I lifted it out of the package, unhooked the one golden latch, and slowly lifted the lid.

It was a jewelry box with a little dancing ballerina. She danced to softly tinkling music. Around and around she danced as I perused the box. There were places for rings, bracelets and necklaces. It was the most fantastic gift!

I didn't have much to put in it. Just my watch, a ring my mother gave me the Christmas before, and a necklace with one small pearl my brother had given me.

I laid the beautiful box aside, and went to change into my sleek new pajamas. Then I came and sat down again. As the little ballerina danced, and the music played, I silently looked all around me. I felt bereft and happy at the same time.

I wondered how my friend felt in that strange tangle of jungle he so hopefully walked. Would we ever win this war, and would he make it home? A tear dropped. Would my dad and brother travel safely home to us? Another tear fell.

As childlike feelings came, I wondered if my mom would ever be able to stay home again, and not have to work. More tears flowed. By this time, my heart was so filled with sorrow that I cried with all the abandon of a three year old.

Then something came softly calling. It felt like soft little feathers had encircled my heart. I looked at the star on top of the tree and whispered, "Are you there?"

A feeling came over me I will never forget. It was like being dipped in a wonderful warm pond of love. The moment was ethereal. I sat still; the tears were still on my cheeks. I had gained a glimpse of eternity. I knew HE was there.

I wasn't sure how much time passed. Only a minute or two I'm sure. I carefully laid down, still looking at the star, and finally seeing the beauty of the night, the tree, the lights, the moon, and the season,  I peacefully fell asleep. When mom came home at 2:00 am she gently woke me, and I went to my bed where I slept the rest of the night.

I can't tell you how much that Christmas Eve meant to me - a girl who didn't attend church, who didn't know the gospel of Christ in any formal way, who was a babe when it came to important religious matters, had felt the love of God on a lone winter's night, in a small rural Utah town.

Author Notes

This is a true story from my youth. It was an experience that changed my outlook and my life.