just a little bit now as Harry and Berty galloped away. And it sounded like Katie’s voice was joining in the joyous song. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Hark, the heral’ angels sing! Glory to the newborn king! Peace on earth an’ mercy mild! God an’ sinners reconciled . . .”
They didn’t seem to know any more of the carol. But I did. And I sang out the rest loud enough for them to hear me, much to their delight. They came running into kitchen, paper angels in hand. “Mommy! Mommy! You can be in the choirs of angels!”
Somehow, for just a moment, in the midst of these nativity-loving kids, I felt that I already was.
No Crying He Makes
F ranky didn’t run around the house and play like the other children. He was concentrating on the problem of how to make the baby Jesus and sheep that stood up. Finally he decided on a reverse design for the baby. A paper tube for the body and an inverted cone in the end of it for a head. He sealed the top with a circle of paper and wrapped his little “baby” with a blanket of paper, bringing one corner up “to keep his head warm.” Sarah loved the little paper baby, but she was a little distressed, especially when I set the figure on the table.
“Mommy, it isn’t Christmas. He isn’t supposed to be borned yet.”
“He was born a long time ago, sweetheart. We’re just making a display—sort of like acting it out in his honor.”
“But we want to act it out right, Mommy! He can’t be in Bethlehem yet.”
“Fine,” I told her, just a little impatiently. I set the paper Jesus on the cupboard, next to Mary.
“That isn’t right either,” she complained. “Because he isn’t borned.” She whirled around and yelled, “Franky! Where was baby Jesus before he got borned?”
“In heaven, I guess,” Franky answered simply, barely looking up from his second attempt at a sheep.
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” She turned to me again. “Mommy, can I take him upstairs?”
I could almost have laughed, but I doubt she would have appreciated it. She was so straight-faced, like this was terribly important to her. “Sure. But when you’re finished playing, please put it up so it doesn’t get stepped on. Franky did such a nice job.”
She ran off happily, and Berty suddenly came back in the kitchen and climbed into a chair. “I don’t feel so good no more.”
Not again. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“I think I runned my stomach all jiggly.”
I looked at Samuel with a sigh. “Just when I think we’re getting on top of it.”
He wasn’t worried. “Nothing has kept Bert down for long.”
“You’ll have to sit awhile, or lie down,” I told the boy. “Settle down and rest quietly. That was the point of no school for anyone today, after all. Not a giant recess.”
“I don’t get recess,” he claimed. “’Cause I school at your house.”
“You don’t need recess,” I informed him. “Because everything is play to you anyway.”
Emmie was toddling about, holding Joe’s hand. Harry was jumping on the stairs, evidently feeling much better. Rorey didn’t seem so peppy, sunk in a sitting room chair with Sarah’s doll on her lap.
“I want my own doll,” she moaned.
I’d thought of that, and a change of clothes for all of them, but I’d forgotten to mention it to Samuel before he left. He thought of it now.
“Maybe I should take Joe with me into town,” he said. “We wouldn’t be long. And we can stop at their house and get a change of clothes and a few things.”
“Can I come ’stead a’ Joe?” Kirk asked immediately. “He’s better with helpin’ the little kids. I ain’t no good at that.”
Samuel was quiet for a moment, probably considering how Kirk would feel if they happened to find his father over there, or if they continued to find no sign. But Kirk already knew almost as much as Joe did. And he was almost as old. “All right,” Samuel agreed. “Ask Lizbeth what all you’ll need from over there.”
Kirk made a
“Hark, the heral’ angels sing! Glory to the newborn king! Peace on earth an’ mercy mild! God an’ sinners reconciled . . .”
They didn’t seem to know any more of the carol. But I did. And I sang out the rest loud enough for them to hear me, much to their delight. They came running into kitchen, paper angels in hand. “Mommy! Mommy! You can be in the choirs of angels!”
Somehow, for just a moment, in the midst of these nativity-loving kids, I felt that I already was.
No Crying He Makes
F ranky didn’t run around the house and play like the other children. He was concentrating on the problem of how to make the baby Jesus and sheep that stood up. Finally he decided on a reverse design for the baby. A paper tube for the body and an inverted cone in the end of it for a head. He sealed the top with a circle of paper and wrapped his little “baby” with a blanket of paper, bringing one corner up “to keep his head warm.” Sarah loved the little paper baby, but she was a little distressed, especially when I set the figure on the table.
“Mommy, it isn’t Christmas. He isn’t supposed to be borned yet.”
“He was born a long time ago, sweetheart. We’re just making a display—sort of like acting it out in his honor.”
“But we want to act it out right, Mommy! He can’t be in Bethlehem yet.”
“Fine,” I told her, just a little impatiently. I set the paper Jesus on the cupboard, next to Mary.
“That isn’t right either,” she complained. “Because he isn’t borned.” She whirled around and yelled, “Franky! Where was baby Jesus before he got borned?”
“In heaven, I guess,” Franky answered simply, barely looking up from his second attempt at a sheep.
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” She turned to me again. “Mommy, can I take him upstairs?”
I could almost have laughed, but I doubt she would have appreciated it. She was so straight-faced, like this was terribly important to her. “Sure. But when you’re finished playing, please put it up so it doesn’t get stepped on. Franky did such a nice job.”
She ran off happily, and Berty suddenly came back in the kitchen and climbed into a chair. “I don’t feel so good no more.”
Not again. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“I think I runned my stomach all jiggly.”
I looked at Samuel with a sigh. “Just when I think we’re getting on top of it.”
He wasn’t worried. “Nothing has kept Bert down for long.”
“You’ll have to sit awhile, or lie down,” I told the boy. “Settle down and rest quietly. That was the point of no school for anyone today, after all. Not a giant recess.”
“I don’t get recess,” he claimed. “’Cause I school at your house.”
“You don’t need recess,” I informed him. “Because everything is play to you anyway.”
Emmie was toddling about, holding Joe’s hand. Harry was jumping on the stairs, evidently feeling much better. Rorey didn’t seem so peppy, sunk in a sitting room chair with Sarah’s doll on her lap.
“I want my own doll,” she moaned.
I’d thought of that, and a change of clothes for all of them, but I’d forgotten to mention it to Samuel before he left. He thought of it now.
“Maybe I should take Joe with me into town,” he said. “We wouldn’t be long. And we can stop at their house and get a change of clothes and a few things.”
“Can I come ’stead a’ Joe?” Kirk asked immediately. “He’s better with helpin’ the little kids. I ain’t no good at that.”
Samuel was quiet for a moment, probably considering how Kirk would feel if they happened to find his father over there, or if they continued to find no sign. But Kirk already knew almost as much as Joe did. And he was almost as old. “All right,” Samuel agreed. “Ask Lizbeth what all you’ll need from over there.”
Kirk made a
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