A Land to Call Home (35 page)

Ingeborg and Paws met them in the yard when they drove in. “Christmas trees!” She clapped her hands in delight. “How wonderful.” She looked up at her husband with a catch in her throat. He certainly looked the part of a conquering Viking hero. “Good trip?”

“Ja.” He climbed to the ground, stamping his feet to get the blood flowing again. “Is the coffee hot? We’re about froze through.”

Lars trotted up. “When I heard Paws bark, I thought it must be you. Go on in and get warm. I’ll take care of the horses.” He peered at Haakan’s face. “Think you got frostbite on your nose. I’d take care of that if I were you.”

The men didn’t need to be told twice.

Four days before Christmas, Lars and Olaf showed up at the school with a pine tree in the back of the sleigh. They dragged it inside to the oohs and aahs of both children and teacher. Once set in a bucket of sand and water, it reached up through the crossbeams and nearly to the rafters.

“It ith tho big.” Little Anna stared in delight. “What we gonna put on it?”

“We will have to make some ornaments. Ask at home if there is anything we might use—ribbon, colored paper, leftover yarn, bits of bright-colored material, pine cones, whatever you think might look pretty on our tree.”

“We need a star for the top.”

“And candles.”

“I saw a tree once that had shiny balls hanging from the branches.”

“Thank you, Mr. Knutson and Mr. Wold, for our tree,” the children chorused when the men turned to leave.

“We could use some of that carded wool to lay on the branches. Would look like snow.” Solveig stood beside Kaaren.

The next morning each child brought whatever they could, and before long the tree began to color. Squares of red-and-white gingham tied with yarn around crinkled paper looked like cheery balls. White paper cut into angel shapes hung from the branches, and popcorn strung on long double threads looped around the limbs. Baptiste and Thorliff had their heads together over some pieces of willow. When they finished, the star formed of straight twigs of the same length and tied at the points lay on the teacher’s desk.

“Boys, this is beautiful.” She held it up for all to admire. “We could whitewash it to make it stand out more. What do you think?” Kaaren asked. “You two are so clever.”

Baptiste nodded. “White make it show up better.”

“We could make more, small ones, if you would show us how,” one of the middle girls said.

When they had hung all the whitewashed stars on the branches, the sight of the tree made them gasp, it was so lovely.

The afternoon of the last pageant practice would have tested the apostle John’s patience. They hung a rope from wall to wall and hung sheets and blankets on it for their curtain to the improvised stage. Two boys got tangled in the sheets and tripped, ripping them off the line. Standing in front of the other children for the first time
gave some such stage fright that one boy had to run for the privy. Lines floated out of memories, giggles attacked, and others couldn’t say a word.

Kaaren patiently coached them through the whole thing twice, calling from the back of the room, “Speak up now so everyone can hear you,” and applauding their efforts.

The wiseman’s crown fell off when he walked up the aisle, and Mary tripped on her robe. An angel kept pushing her halo up with one hand until it was bent clear out of round. For families with so little, they had thrown themselves into creating costumes for the children for the first pageant to be held in this, their new land.

By the time the last practice was finished, Kaaren gathered them all around the stove and popped more popcorn for them to eat, although more than one morsel had been swallowed during the stringing.

“I want you to remember something. I will be sitting right in the front row to prompt you if you forget your lines. That means I will whisper the words to you so you can go on.” Several of the children gave deep sighs of relief. “Now we will all pray that our pageant will go smoothly.” She bowed her head and waited for silence.

“Heavenly Father, I thank thee for all the work these children and their families have put into making this program to tell thy story. Please help us all to do our best and give glory to thee.” Everyone chorused the amen.

“There will be no school tomorrow so that you can all get ready for the pageant tomorrow night, Christmas Eve. We will be serving cider and cookies afterward, remember?” She glanced back just in time to see the rope holding the sheets and quilts that made their curtain slump to the floor. When she broke out in laughter, the children followed. “Guess we’ll have two of the men hold that up, what do you think?” They laughed again. “Now you all know your parts and where your costumes are, so come early to finish getting ready. We will start our program right at seven o’clock.”
And hope and pray one of the twins is sleepy enough to be baby Jesus without crying
.

After the children left, she eyed the hole in the sod wall where the pegs to hold the curtain had been driven. “Maybe Lars will play at being a post.”

Solveig chuckled. “I never seen such excited youngsters.”

“Most of them have never had a Christmas tree. In case you haven’t noticed, this land has few evergreens. If Olaf and Haakan hadn’t brought these back from Minnesota, we wouldn’t have them
now. It’s our first tree since we came here.”

The babies began to fuss, so she fed them again before starting home. When she closed the schoolhouse door on the tree and the warm room, she breathed a prayer of gratitude for the tree, for the joy of the children, and for their excitement for the program. All their presents, made with such love for their parents, lay under the tree ready to be given out.

The day of the pageant dawned clear and cold, taking one worry off Kaaren’s mind. Now if the weather only made it through the day like this. She bustled around baking cookies, caring for her babies, cooking, and caring for her babies again. “Solveig, if you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do.”

“You’d manage.” Solveig salted one of the three geese Ingeborg had shot, cleaned, and left outside to freeze so they could have roast goose for Christmas Day. They were fixing the goose, and Ingeborg was bringing the rest of the meal since she didn’t have a pageant to worry about.

“Well, I tell you, I am thankful I don’t have to try to do it all.” Kaaren rocked Sophie, snuggled against her mother’s shoulder. Instead of taking a nap as usual, the baby wanted to play. “How can you play the part of baby Jesus tonight if you won’t sleep now?”

Sophie waved her fist and wiggled all the rest of her. She smiled back at her mother, making sounds and gurgles. When Kaaren tried tucking the baby against her shoulder, Sophie bounced back like a llimber branch. “Uffda, you aren’t making this easy. Why can’t you be like your sister?” Kaaren glanced over to the cradle where Grace lay sound asleep.

“Gaas” and “goos” were the only answer.

The Knutsons took both sleighs to the school that night because Kaaren had to be there earlier than the others. Lars put the line back up and promised to stay right there to make sure it held. As the children arrived, their parents buzzed around the benches and an excited hum filled the room.

Behind the curtain, the children put on their costumes, some giggling, some white of face.

“Now, now, you will do just fine.” Kaaren shushed some and comforted others, moving from the wisemen to the shepherds and then to the angels as needed.

“Mrs. Knutson!”

She was sure if she heard her name hissed one more time with a note of panic in the voice, she would break out in either laughter
or tears, and from one moment to the next she was never sure which.

The baby fussing out front was definitely Sophie.

A hush fell when Olaf took his place in front of the curtain with his open Bible in his hands.

“Welcome to our pageant this evening, and God bless us everyone.”

“Mrs. Knutson,” the boy playing Joseph hissed just before Kaaren stepped through the curtain to take her place. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” Raw terror whitened his face. Kaaren stepped back and put her arm around his trembling shoulders. “Reimer, you can play Joseph. You’ve been doing really wonderfully. Once you start up that aisle, you’ll do just fine.” She looked into his eyes, trying to give him the confidence he needed. “Besides, I’ll be praying for you. All you have to do is lead the donkey.”

As the school filled with the music of the first carol, she gave him a little push. “You and Mary get on outside now. Mr. Baard is waiting with the donkey.”
And also the sheep.
The thought made her wonder why she had ever let the children choose to have live animals.
Please, God, make that donkey lead for Joseph—er, Reimer.

She glanced over at Solveig, who had promised to stay behind the curtain and make sure the children got to the right place at the right time. Mary and Joseph slipped through the crowd that filled the benches and lined the walls. There wasn’t a square foot of floor not occupied. Kaaren took her seat on the bench. Ingeborg was bouncing the now quiet but wide awake Sophie on her lap. Haakan held the sleeping Grace.

As the voices died away, Olaf began. “ ‘And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.’ ” His rich baritone voice rolled across those assembled, the familiar Norwegian words perfect and clear.

Kaaren felt a draft, knowing the door had opened. She turned to look and caused all the audience to turn also. There they came, Mary sideways on the donkey and Joseph, staring only at the floor, leading them.

Kaaren breathed a sigh of relief. They had begun, and all would be well now.

“ ‘And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee. . . .’ ”

An indrawn breath came as one upon the people. “Look, Mor, a donkey,” a little one said to the shushing of his mother.

The age-old words continued, and the donkey with his cargo disappeared behind the curtain. Kaaren let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Olaf signaled to Joseph Baard, who swung into the opening strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and at his nod, everyone joined in. While they sang, the manger was set out and the sheep led into place, grain dropped in front of them and a bit of hay. The sheep began eating, and during the last lines of the song, Kaaren took the sleeping Grace back behind the curtain and handed the bundled baby to Ingrid, the girl playing Mary.

Olaf continued. “ ‘And so it was, that, while they were there . . .’ ”

Mary came out from behind the curtain and sat down on the stool by the manger, holding the baby in her lap, and Joseph, leaning on his staff, took his place behind her. Kaaren resumed her seat.

“ ‘And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.’ ”

Mary did so. The babe slept on, and Kaaren breathed another sigh of relief.

“ ‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.’ ”

The shepherds stopped halfway up the aisle, blinding their eyes when an angel met them. The other three angels waited near the scene in front.

“ ‘Fear not!’ ” said the angel, and the shepherds removed their hands from their faces. “ ‘For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy. . . .’ ” The angel led the four shepherds to the front where Mary had laid the baby in the hay-lined manger. They knelt and the angels sang their chorus, little Anna lisping her words but making sure they were loud.

The shepherds said their lines and sat down around the manger scene, Thorliff putting his arm around Sheep, his own ewe. He looked up at Mary and smiled.

Kaaren glanced over in time to see Ingeborg wipe a tear away from her cheek.

The words of the beloved story continued, pausing for the children to say their lines. Kaaren only needed to prompt one. As the shepherds rose to leave, Joseph slumped over his stick and slid to the floor. One of the sheep jumped up and bumped into the manger.

A horrified gasp swept around the room.

Thorliff leaped forward and grabbed the baby just as she tumbled out of the falling manger. While he handed the now whimpering child to Mary, another of the shepherds righted the manger. Joseph, sheepish of face, sat down beside Mary, his head on his raised knees.

Kaaren signaled, and all the children broke into their next song, accompanied by fiddle and harmonica. Kaaren watched Mary calm the baby and rock her in young arms. When the song finished, the shepherds moved off to the side, and after taking a deep breath and flashing Kaaren a look of relief, Olaf continued reading.

The rest of the pageant went off without a hitch, and Kaaren’s heart finally returned to its proper place in her chest.
Thank you, heavenly Father
, ran over and over through her mind. She knew Ingeborg was saying the same thing, her moving lips a testimony to it. They closed with “Silent Night,” everyone singing every single verse. The harmony indeed sounded like an angel chorus.

A silence fell, as if no one wanted to break the heavenly spell. Kaaren rose to her feet and turned to face the parents. “I think these children deserve a mighty hand of appreciation, don’t you?”

When the clapping, stomping, and “here, here” died out, Kaaren continued. “We would like you all to keep your places, for the children have another surprise for you.” As she called their names, each child went to the tree, found his gifts, and took them to his parents. “Mange takk,” echoed around the room. When the last present had been given, Kaaren spoke again. “We have hot cider and cookies on the back table. The children will be serving.”

“No, not yet!”

Kaaren turned to find three children bringing a wrapped present toward her.

The oldest girl, Beth Johnson, stepped forward. “Mrs. Knutson, we made you this gift with our thanks and grati . . .” She stumbled over the word, took in a deep breath, and said it again. “Gratitude for starting and teaching our school. We have learned a lot, and we want to say . . .” She paused again. With one breath all the children shouted, “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Knutson, and a blessed and happy new year!”—in English.