The Christmas Portrait (7 page)

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

D
ADDY HAD TO
work Sunday morning, so we went with Granny to church and then out to her farm for lunch. When we drove in, Grady met us all excited like, trying to wag his tail, but it was mostly sweeping the driveway. That old hound dog loved nothing more than chasing guinea fowl with Chesler. Grady didn't run too well since he got hit by a car, but he could almost keep up with Chesler. Granny and I stayed inside, looking through Christmas cookie recipes and keeping an eye on Chesler from the kitchen window.

Granny drove us back to town for pageant practice late Sunday afternoon. Almost as soon as we pulled out of the driveway, Granny said, “Chesler, let me hear you sing your song.”

When Chesler sang, his mind just went off somewhere else. Not many people had heard him besides Daddy, Granny Grace, and me. But I knew that when he sang at the Christmas pageant, it would make people cry, and then everybody would go home talking about that little Harding boy sounding just like his mama. Granny Grace, Aunt Susannah Hope, and Chesler, they all sang like Mama, but I didn't. Guess God had to make some of us to listen.

Chesler practiced his solo all the way to Broad Street, his clear voice singing “All Is Well” even though we knew good and well it wasn't. How could it be when Mama wasn't here? It was like she was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

I thought about Laramie when we drove past the motorcycle shop. Pastor Simmons always said that whatever happened, God knew best, but something was not right about a daddy fighting with his daughter or children growing up without their mama.

Granny Grace dropped us off at the front door of the church. “I'm going over to your Aunt Susannah's, and I'll be back to pick you up when practice is over.”

I hurried inside. I had to find Pastor Simmons to ask him something, but I didn't want Granny to know about it. I was glad she didn't stay at the church to watch us practice.

We were a little early. Chesler ran straight to the choir room and started practicing his solo with Miss Jan, so I wandered down the hallway to Pastor Simmons's office. Even though I could hear his voice talking to some ladies in the kitchen, it seemed kind of spooky to be in the church hallway alone, without any other kids.

I knew Pastor Simmons would walk by his office and see me, so I went in and sat down to wait for him. I sat up straight and tall in the chair in front of his desk, looking around at all the bookshelves. I thought there was just one Holy Bible, but Pastor Simmons had more Bibles than Aunt Susannah Hope had catalogs. I was glad. With all those Bibles he was sure to know the answer to my question.

I really liked the photos on the wall behind his desk, all picturing local scenes. One showed the springtime when wild flowers bloom in the woods and everything turns bright green. The summer photo showed the bridge down at the lake. Mama would have liked the autumn picture of the waterfall where we used to picnic, with its red and gold sycamores. But I liked the winter picture best: our old stone church with a blanket of snow around it and red ribbons tied to the lampposts.

“Kate, is that you? What a nice surprise.” Just then Pastor Simmons came in smiling. He had blond, curly hair, and he wore little round glasses and a red sweater.

“Hello, Pastor Simmons.” I really hoped he wouldn't think my question was dumb or something. But at least it would be easier to talk to a preacher wearing a red sweater.

He looked at me like Daddy checking out Chesler's skinned knees, but he didn't say a word until he sat down behind his big desk stacked with books and papers. “So, tell me, Kate, how are you this afternoon?”

“I'm just fine, sir.” I pointed at the wall next to the window. “I really like your pictures. It's like a whole year in Cedar Falls.”

He nodded. “Well, thank you. That's what my sister said when she took those pictures. My sister travels the world taking pictures, but her favorite place to take pictures is right here in the Appalachians. She says God took great pleasure in creating this part of Kentucky with its hills and forests and streams. And I agree with her.”

“Mama always said Cedar Falls was closer to heaven than anywhere else.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Well, just maybe your mama was right. So, tell me, Kate, what brings you to see me today?”

I told him I had some questions about my mama and about her dying.

“Well, we shouldn't talk about dying without first talking about living.” He scratched his head. Then he asked, “Do you like to read?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir, I really like to read. I read all the time.” I didn't tell him I read under the covers with a flashlight late at night. I didn't figure he needed to know that.

“Well, Kate, life's a lot like a book with a setting and characters and a few problems to solve.” Then he asked me about my favorite book and if I remembered the characters and their problems.

“My favorite is
Charlotte's Web
, and how Charlotte saves Wilbur, and how Wilbur gets all sad when she dies.”

He nodded. “That's a very good story. I'll have to read that to Harry.” Harry was his five-year-old son.

Then he said in a soft, kind voice, “God is kind of like an author, Kate. He writes a story for each of us, and we are the characters in His story. Sometimes God lets us write a little bit of our own story, like choosing someone to be our friend. But God decides who our parents are.”

I guessed that was what Mama meant when she said God picked me out to be her one and only daughter.

Then Pastor said, “We get to decide about some things, but God decides when the characters die and go to heaven to be with Him forever.”

I remembered what Mama told me when we were sitting on that rock above the creek. Faith. Family. Forever. What the pastor said sounded sort of like living happily ever after, but I wasn't so sure about that part. “I know Mama's in heaven, but I wonder if she's very happy without Daddy and Chesler and me.”

“Oh, your mama's happy, Kate. She knows the end of the story. She knows one day you'll all be together again.”

Talking to Pastor Simmons was better than giving book reports at school, but I didn't come to talk about books and stories and happy endings. I wanted to talk about dying and about Mama. But before I could say anything, Pastor Simmons said, “Life comes in stages, you know.”

I knew about stages. For a while, Chesler threw a fit about eating vegetables. Granny Grace told Mama he was just going through a stage and not to worry about it. Sure enough, he got over it once he saw me eating my vegetables and getting dessert as a reward.

Pastor Simmons said, “I remember when you were born and you couldn't walk or talk. And when you could walk, you were a toddler, and being a baby ended.”

I didn't remember being a baby or a toddler either.

Then he said, “You grew up more and went off to school. Your next stage will be when you're a teenager, and then you'll be a woman and get married and be a mother just like your mama.” He went on and on about stages. Then he said, “The last stage is death, when we leave this world and go to be with God and all our loved ones who've gone before us.”

I bit my lip hard. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to see Mama, but I was scared to die because I thought it hurt. Mama didn't seem to hurt; she just slipped away when she died. But with Daddy being an EMT, I knew about car wrecks and bad stuff like that.

So I asked Pastor Simmons, “Does it hurt to die?”

Pastor leaned back in his chair. “Well, Kate, did it hurt when you changed from being a baby to being a little girl?”

I shook my head. “I don't think so.”

“Well, you're getting to be a big girl, and I'm going to be real honest with you.” That's when he got up out from his desk and came around to my chair. He squatted down in front of me. I didn't think I was going to like his answer.

“Sometimes people die in accidents. Sometimes they're sick for a while like your mama, and sometimes they just get old and their bodies wear out like your grandpa's did. And sometimes people hurt before they die, but when they die, they're not sick or hurting anymore. And for your mama, because she chose to invite Jesus into her heart, dying was just like walking through a beautiful door into a perfect new place, a place where nobody has to say good-bye ever again. You don't like to say goodbye, do you?”

I nodded again. That didn't sound so bad. “But what if I grow up and I get old like Grandpa and just wear out? Mama won't know me when I get to heaven.”

“Oh, Kate, your mama will know you. The Bible doesn't tell us all we want to know about heaven, but your mama would know you no matter what because the Bible says so. Would you like to pray now?”

What I really wanted was to talk to Mama, but I told him I had one more question.

He got up and rubbed his knees and leaned against the front of his desk.

“I made this special Christmas present for Mama, but I don't know where to put it so she'll get it in heaven. I was kinda hoping you could tell me.”

He smiled. “Your mama has everything she wants in heaven. You don't need to give her a present. She knows how much you still love her.”

“But my present would make her real happy. She could have it forever 'til I get there. There's just gotta be a way to get presents to heaven. Do you know what it is?”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Kate, I don't rightly recall anybody ever asking me that question before. Now I've read the Bible lots of times, and it doesn't say one thing about where to leave Christmas presents for delivery to heaven. I'll have to think about this one, and if you find out before I do, would you please let me know?” He was still rubbing his eyes when somebody knocked on the door.

It was Miss Jan. “Kate, time for practice.”

Pastor said, “You come back to see me anytime, and I'm going to read
Charlotte's Web
again because you made it sound so interesting. I enjoyed our little talk.”

We shook hands, and I left with Miss Jan. Chesler was singing “All Is Well” again while I climbed the steps of the choir risers. I wished singing alleluias made everything all right. If they did, I'd sing all the time.

I was thinking about when we would get home that night; it would be Chesler's turn to take the peppermint candy off the Advent calendar. Seven days 'til Christmas. Not nearly long enough to figure out where to leave Mama's Christmas present so she would get it.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

J
UST LIKE SHE
promised, Granny Grace was parked right outside the front door of the church when choir rehearsal was over. We headed back to the farm with her. When Daddy got off work, he would join us for supper.

Granny Grace and Grandpa lived in town when they were young. But when Grandpa sold his business and retired, he wanted to live out in the country and have a garden and chickens and goats and guineas. So they bought a farm and built a log cabin a few miles outside of town. Mama said that log house was like the one Grandpa grew up in out in the mountains. He never forgot home, and he never forgot being poor.

When my grandparents moved to the country, Aunt Susannah Hope was the first in line to inherit their old house in town. Since my aunt and uncle didn't have any children, they spent all their money and time fixing it up. They had piles of books to show them what an old house ought to look like. When they finished one room, they just went on to the next.

Meanwhile Mama and Daddy bought another house down the street and around the corner, next to the creek. Mama liked it because it was two-story, and she thought every kid should have a house with stairs. Daddy liked it because he could stand on the back porch and almost cast his fly rod into the stream. One time I heard Mama tell him, “I don't want to live in a dollhouse or a museum like Susannah Hope. I want our house to be alive.” I agreed.

After Grandpa died, Mama and Aunt Susannah Hope tried to talk Granny into moving back to town. Nothing doing. Granny Grace loved the farm, with its pond and trails and chickens, and so did I. “Grady keeps me company, and I don't think the town would enjoy Red Top crowing at four in the morning,” Granny declared. And that was that.

Granny drove through town real slow on the way home from choir practice. “Just look at all those Christmas lights. They look even prettier in the snow.” We passed a lit-up manger scene in front of the Methodist church, and Granny said, “Can you believe it? Next weekend, there'll be real live people and animals in that manger scene.”

Chesler asked, “Will they have a real live camel too?”

“I seriously doubt we have any camels in these parts. They prefer sand, not snow.”

Santa and his reindeer were blinking across the street in front of the bank. The way they blinked made Santa's sleigh look like it was flying, but Chesler's favorite was the giant snowman in front of the tire store. Every time Chesler saw it, he sang “Frosty, the Snowman.”

When we drove by the motorcycle place, Granny said, “Kate, your daddy's been talking to me, and we were thinking about inviting the little Fields girl over to spend some time with you during the holidays. Somebody ought to be nice to that little girl, especially at Christmas.”

I guessed that was Granny's way of saying we were going to be the somebody. Last summer Granny and I went down by her pond to pick blueberries for a pie. She said her neighbor was sick and a pie would make her feel better. Every week Granny took baskets of food to the poor families who lived in the hollers over by the river.

As we picked blueberries, I asked, “Granny, why are you kind to everybody?”

“Why, child, I'm building my mansion in heaven, and with every act of kindness, I'm adding another brick.”