The Christmas Without Lights
Carol M Mottershead
Book Two of 'The Elixir Chronicles' by Carol M Mottershead 'SHIPS IN THE NIGHT'
by Linda Chism
A true Christmas story
The divorce had been final on December 2nd, and I wasn’t looking forward to my first bleak Christmas as a single mom to my two pre-school children. With the divorce had come the move into a small two-bedroom house in a questionable neighborhood in southeast Dallas, the only accommodation I could afford on my meager salary. Still, I was grateful for any job after having been a stay-at-home mom for almost six years.
Christmas Eve fell on a Saturday that year, and I had an afternoon appointment with my minister, who had set aside most of his day to meet with members of the congregation. After our meeting, he led me to a nearby room holding several long rows of produce boxes, filled with bags of potatoes, apples, oranges, carrots, and onions. A generous benefactor had donated them to the church, with the request the minister distribute them to the “poor and needy.” That dubious title certainly applied to our family that Christmas.
Gathering up my box and kids, I drove home in my little green Pinto. Because my ex-husband planned to pick up our children at noon the next day, I wanted to make our Christmas Eve dinner special for the three of us. I figured the potatoes, carrots, and onions in the charity box would make a nice addition to the whole chicken I had found on sale.
My plans, however, began to unravel almost as soon as we stepped into the house. I automatically flipped the light switch on my right, but the overhead light did not even flicker. I moved into the tiny dining room and tried that switch. Still nothing. Nor were there overhead lights in the kitchen, the two bedrooms, or the bathroom. In fact, the only light in the house was the afternoon sun still streaming through the windows in the front room.
I rushed to the phone to call my landlord, but only the answering machine picked up my call. My next move was to walk into the garage to look for the fuse box. But from what I could tell with my flashlight, none of the switches had flipped to the off position. Unsure what else to do, I walked back inside and sat down on the second-hand couch.
My children, even at their young ages, knew lights should be shining, particularly on the Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room. I could tell they were as confused as I was by this strange turn of events, and I pulled them close to me, trying to dispel their fears as well as my own.
It took a few minutes of brooding before deciding to make the most of what light remained in the day. After lugging in the produce box from the car trunk, I asked the children to pick out an onion along with a few carrots and potatoes. I pulled out my peeler and a knife, and they took turns handing me the chosen items. Then I prepped the hen, surrounded her with vegetables, and covered the entire pan with foil. Fortunately for us, the ancient gas oven needed no electronic switch to turn on. Within the hour, dinner was cooking.
The next order of business was to find the candles I hoped I had brought with me from the old house. For once, my organizational skills proved handy. The candles sat in a box marked “emergency” on a shelf in the garage. I packed three or four of the long red candles into a glass jar, placing it atop a saucer to catch any melting wax.
While we waited for dinner to finish cooking, the kids pulled out every storybook they could find. The short winter day had ended, and darkness had fallen outside. But my flashlight still had enough juice left to see some of the words on the pages. It didn’t hurt that both I and the children knew most of the books by heart from countless bedtime readings.
Dinner was a little later than usual, but the kids seemed to enjoy the added ambiance of eating Christmas dinner by candlelight. Figuring baths could wait for morning light, I dressed them both in their jammies and tucked them tightly in their beds. They were asleep almost as soon as their heads hit their pillows. Exhausted as well, I headed for my bedroom. As I knelt for my prayers beside the bed, I asked the Lord point-blank why he had given our family such an upside-down day. But no answer came before I fell asleep.
The next morning two excited little children awoke me from a deep sleep, eager to open the presents a good friend at church had purchased for them. As I watched them tear into their gifts, I marveled at the morning sun now streaming through the windows, chasing away the darkness of the previous night. And with that bright light came a still, small voice whispering that God was still aware of me and my children, even during our darkest night, a reminder that our future days would soon be filled with light.
As you know by now, I like to share snippets from other authors that catch my eye, and Linda Chism's writing is one to watch out for.
But don't forget my own books -
'Joan - Put on a happy face' & 'Memories Of...' by Carol M Mottershead
HAPPY READING and MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Website Copywriter | Business Advisor | Mom of 3 Kids
1yCarol M Mottershead did you recently publish this series?