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By Helen Frazee-Bower
C AN we buy the candles now, Mommie? Can we?” Jessica pulled at her mother’s sleeve excitedly. “May we, Jessica—not can we. And for pity’s sake stand still. I declare I’ll never ' take you shopping again. You wear me hut.” “ I’m sorry, Mommie, but please let’s buy the candles now. And they must be red and white and green.” “ Red and white and green?” Mother eyed her strangely. “ Shan’t we look at the dolls first?” “ No, no, Mommie! Let’s get the can dles.” “ All right, all right, come along then. I never saw such a child. Whatever started you thinking of candles any way?” “ Miss Ellis.” “ That Sunday school teacher again. Sometimes I wish I had never sent you to Sunday school. That’s all you think about. Why can’t you be like other chil dren?” “ Like what other children, Mommie? The girls at Sunday school are just like me. I wish you’d . come and see,” she added wistfully. “ Well, I won’t. I send you to please your father, but don’t expect me to tag along. Here we are at the candle coun ter.” Jessica selected three tall candles, red, white, green. All the way home she clasped them tightly as she skipped by her mother’s side. Christmas eve arrived and the house was gay with evergreens and red ber ries. Jessica’s stocking hung by the chimney. Mysterious packages lay under the tree. In a holder on the mantel Jessica carefully placed the candles. They were too tall for her to light but Mommie could do that later. Her mother came in, dressed for the street. Jessica's face fell. “ Are you go ing out tonight, Mommie? It’s Christmas Eve!” “ I know it’s Christmas Eve,” her mother replied shortly. “Who knows it better than I? Haven’t I slaved all day
“ I guess the wax melted down far enough on that white one for the flame to take hold now,” Mother said. “ That’s not it at all,” said Jessica. “Well, how did it happen then? Don’t tell me it’s the way I hold the match.” “No, it’s not that,” Jessica laughed. “ But you just have to light the red one first.” “ But why? Suppose you tell me about it.” “ It would take quite awhile and you have to go out.” “Well, I have a few minutes. Come and sit by me and tell me.” “ You see it’s like this,” Jessica began. “ The candles stand for something. The red one means sacrifice, and the white one purity, and the green one growth. It’s just like your heart. You want it to be pure as that white candle but you can never make it thaf way. Only the sacrifice of Christ can do that. Just as the song says: ‘What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.’ But, after you light the red candle—and that means after Jesus comes into your heart—then you can light the white one, for He makes your heart pure by His sacrifice.” “ I see,” said Mother, thoughtfully. “ And the green one—what is that for?” “ Oh, that’s for growth. All green things grow—grass, shrubs, trees. And we must ‘grow in grace and in the knowledge’ of Him.” Mother sat with her head bowed for a moment. Then she got up and took off her coat. The child looked at her in surprise. “ Aren’t you going, Mommie?” she asked. Her mother looked down at her fondly. “ I’m not going, honey. And thank you, child. I think I am going to like my Christmas gift from you very, very much.” “ Oh, you’ve been peeking! That’s not fair. But I think you’ll like it, anyway. It comes in a bottle and is very sweet.” “ No, I have not been peeking, honey. But I know that what you have given me is very sweet—and so are you.” Pag« Twenty-on«
getting ready for tomorrow? I need a little relaxation. I’m tired. What’s Christmas Eve? Just another night in the year with a lot more fuss and bother than most.” Then, seeing the child’s disappointed face, she added, “ But I’ll light your candles before I go. They look pretty up there, don’t they?” She struck a match and held it to the middle candle, but it would not light. She struck another—and another—and another, with the same result. “What candles!” she muttered. “ They won’t even light. Cheap stuff. Nothing is any good anymore.” “ But you can’t do it that way,” Jes sica said in a choked voice. “ I can’t do it what way? What way is there to light a candle except by striking a match?” “You can’t light the white one first,” Jessica said. “ And why not? I suppose red wax burns quicker than white? If you know so much, let’s see you light them.” She held the holder out to the child. Jessica struck a match and lit the red candle, then the white, then the green. Bright and steady the flame glowed in the center of each tall taper, and the child smiled happily.
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