CHRISTMAS MEAN TO YOU?
By HELEN HOWARTH LEMMEL
bowed and left the room, the Stranger following. At the outer door, which she held a moment before opening, she said in a low voice, “ A happy Christmas, sir.” “What does Christmas mean to you?” Again the question, and again the answer that warmed the chilled heart of the questioner. “ It means that Jesus is bom, sir.” “And what is He to you?” The little maid bowed her head as she whispered, “He is my Lord and Saviour.” A light that dazzled broke around her, and when her vision cleared, she was alone. But the light remained to cheer and warm through the season that, in this house, meant longer and harder hours. At the foot of the stone steps that led into a splendid church building, the Stranger now halted. High aloft there gleamed a cross, and above the entrance were blazoned the words, “ Peace on earth good will toward men.” Through the doors that now and again swung open there floated rare voice, hymning the birth of “A Saviour, Christ the Lord.” The Stran ger dropped, as if weary, to the step upon which he had stood; but in a moment a richly dressed woman, fol lowed by a servant man laden with parcels, stopped in front of him. “ Can you not find somewhere else to sit?” she coldly demanded. “ Do you not see that you are blocking the way?” She swept past him as he rose, and he, following the servant, entered the church. The ushers at the inner door bowed low and often, and after loud whispers as to the disposition of her ponderous gifts' to the poor, she was conducted to her own prominent, costly, lonely pew. The Stranger was unnoticed until a warm little hand stole into his. He looked down into the face of a tiny boy, who drew him silently to his own seat in the very rear. Two little hands were then raised in appeal, and the little body was lifted upon the knees of the Stranger where it nestled with a sigh of content, within the tender, enfold ing arms. A grateful warmth pervad ed the chilled Stranger, and the throb of the little heart that lay against his own was sweeter than the rare music and flowing oratory of the Christmas service. The child soon fell asleep, and the Stranger’s head drooped to rest upon the golden head pillowed
through which he viewed a richly furnished room. In the middle of it stood a great tree blazing with colored lights. Around it danced two chil dren, the parents watching in evident pleasure. The little ones fell suddenly silent, and the elders, following their gaze, turned to see the Stranger in the doorway. Surprised, the father spoke curtly: “Who are you? What is it you want?” “ I am seeking friends,” was the gentle reply. “ You have made a mistake. Your friends do not live here.” Seemingly unaware of the father’s displeasure, the children had drawn near, and each held a hand of the Stranger. “ I see,” was the quiet answer, with a smile at the children, as if belying the parental word. The smile was returned as both said together, “ Did you come to see the Christmas presents?” “ For whom?” And here the Stran ger sent a compelling glance at the father, that yet seemed to ask grace at his hands. “ For us,” again in duet. “But — wait.” It was the boy who dashed, as he spoke, to the tree, and as quickly came back with a choice, furry little toy dog, which he pressed into the Stranger’s hand. “This — for you. An’ — an’ it is the mos’ nicest one.” “And I —” began the little girl as she started toward the tree, but was stopped by the father’s voice, strange ly shaken, but still cold, as he ad dressed the maid who had entered in response to his ring. “ Show this person to the door. And you will need to be more careful in the discharge of your duties.” Surprised but silent, the maid Chilly meadow; silly sheep; Watching shepherds half asleep; A slumb’ring town; a cattle keep, And the cry Of a Babe. Glory light and a glory song! Gleaming wings of an angel throng! Praises to God on High belong! The CHRIST Is born! —H.H.L. BETHLEHEM EPHRATAH
upon his breast. Hearing a whisper, ( he stooped to listen. “Mummie dear, I will ask Jesus to make you well. Dear Jesus, do. Soon, please.” Here a sigh that was almost a cry came with the words, “ I need mummie, so much. Amen.” The people rose now, and the child stirred, as if waking. Looking into the face of his friend, he said dreamily, “You will, won’t you? “ I will,” the Stranger promised. The boy then slipped to his feet, and his nurse, with thanks to the Stranger, led her charge away. Out under the stars, the Stranger went his lonely way, stopping next before a magnificent hotel. Through the great windows, crowds could be seen eating, drinking, dancing, and gambling. There emerged from the door near the Stranger a figure up held by two men in livery, and a third sprang up the steps to assist in his master’s journey to the car below. Strange and dreadful sounds came from the bloated lips of the huge, crumpled body. A sick man? Truly; sin-sick. Dead even, in trespasses and sins. He caught sight of the Stranger and, balancing perilously half in and half out of the car, he hiccoughed, “Merry Christmas.” “What does Christmas mean to you?” was the quiet acknowledgment of the greeting. Quickly came the reply, “ Eat, drink, and be merry, — merry, — merry Christmas. Oh, yes,” — as if groping for a thought, — “ oh yes, be merry, for — tomorrow — you die.” CONTINUED ON PAGE 23 Mrs. Lemmel has written a number of stories, poems, ond gospel songs. Perhaps the best known of her compositions is "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesu s." Now 95 year s of age, Mrs. Lemmel lives in Seattle. Today, she is totally blind. This article, we believe, will bring tears to your eyes and a challenge to your heart.
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DECEMBER, 1958
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