Free Christmas in Harmony by Philip Gulley

Never having seen Dale look thoughtful, I was caught off guard.
    “You know, Sam, having the Nativity scene spread out like that kinda reminded me how we never really see the full picture. We think we do, but mostly we’re just lookin’ at bits and pieces, thinkin’ we’re seeing the whole thing.”
    I was utterly stunned at his insight.
    “Say,” Dale said, “this was such a hit, why don’t we be thinkin’ about doing something like this for Easter? Maybe have a Crucifixion in my yard and the Resurrection in your yard. Wouldn’t that be something?”
    It appeared Dale’s detour into wisdom would be a brief one.
    “I guess it’s something to think about,” I said. “Well, Dale, you take care. Safe travels to your sister-in-law’s.”
    I continued walking toward town. Before long, I could see the Christmas lights the Odd Fellows had strung across Main Street. It was late and still, except for an occasional car driving by. I walked past the meetinghouse and noticed Frank had left a light on, so I went in to turn it off. Frank was there, seated by himself in the third pew, right-hand side.
    I wasn’t going to disturb him, but he looked up, noticed me, and motioned for me to sit beside him.
    “Hey, Frank.”
    “Hey, Sam.”
    “Everything all right?”
    “Oh, sure. I don’t know. I was just walking past and thought I’d sit for a while. It’s nice in here.”
    “Yes, it is,” I agreed. “Very peaceful.”
    “So I’m sitting here thinking old-man thoughts.”
    I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet.
    “Mostly remembering when my daughter was little and we’d sit here on Christmas Eve. She’d be in her pajamas. Right here.” He patted his lap. “Now she’s in North Carolina. I wonder how she is.”
    “I’m sure she’s just fine,” I said.
    He didn’t speak for several moments. “I missed this tonight. I missed the Gospel of Luke and going to the basement for cookies.”
    “I did, too, Frank. I missed it, too.”
    We grew quiet, remembering. Frank with his Yule thoughts, and me with mine. Sitting at the dining-room table writing out Christmas cards with my wife. Walking the aisles of the Five and Dime searching for the perfect gift, my sons in tow. Finding that exquisite tree at Grant’s Hardware, eight feet tall with vertical integrity, a tree among trees. Watching Clarence the angel rescue George Bailey on a Friday night at the Royal. My boys sitting on Santa’s lap—one a skeptic, the other a true believer. Tucking them in bed not an hour before, their little bodies squirming with excitement. Still little, and still with me, and not in North Carolina. Not even the prospect of Dale’s progressive Easter could dampen that.
    I heard a slight sniff and came out of my reverie. “Uh, Sam, I was wondering if you could maybe do me a favor?”
    “Sure, Frank, what is it?”
    “I was hoping maybe you could you read the second chapter of Luke for me. Not the whole thing, just the birth part.”
    “Yeah, I can do that.” I reached for a pew Bible.
    “No, Sam, not here. Could you read it from the pulpit, like we’ve always done?”
    I walked up to the pulpit, opened the pulpit Bible to the Gospel of Luke, and began to read. Frank closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the words wash over him. “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 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…Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”
    I closed the Bible and sat back down next to Frank. He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the cookies I had given him earlier. “Care for a cookie?” he asked.
    “Thank you, Frank. Don’t mind if I do.”
    We sat like that until the Frieda Hampton memorial clock bonged midnight.
    “Merry Christmas,