O Little Town (18 page)

CHAPTER 31

The skies were clear as the congregation began to arrive for the Christmas Eve candlelight service at the Mason Street Methodist Church. Falling snow would have made for a perfect scene, but the simple, bitter cold more than made up for the lack of precipitation. Women were dropped off at the front door while men parked cars in the lot behind the sanctuary or on the street by the curb. A rush of frigid air blew into the vestibule each time someone opened the front door. Splashes of color, red mufflers and green sweaters and Christmas corsages on coat lapels, filled the church, and the candles flickering in stained-glass windows sent a warm message to anyone passing by.

In every corner of Mt. Jefferson and in all the outlying areas, churches were duplicating the very same scene. Only the faces were different. Families left their dinner tables to worship and observe a simple service that would be the spiritual solace to a hectic season. There was no more shopping to be done. No more racing around town to buy last-minute ingredients for Christmas dinner or deliver last-minute gifts of cookies to friends. All that was left was Christmas.

You could see at least one other church from any one of the church parking lots. There were two Baptist churches, two Presbyterian, one Methodist, one Lutheran, a Brethren, and one Catholic church all within walking distance of one another. A bird’s-eye view of the town would have made the perfect picture postcard.

Some came to church in casual clothes. Some in their Sunday best. Some brought neighbors who had never been. But they all came because they felt it was the right place to be. There would be enough evening after the service to put the little ones to bed and get ready for Santa’s visit. Enough evening for families to get together and open packages with those they wouldn’t see on Christmas Day. Enough time to slow down and take a deep breath and let all the tension out and allow a little of the peace in.

And that was what was about to happen at Mason Street Methodist. The Rev. Paul Franklin was talking to choir members and watching the front door from his vantage point in a small room to the side of the pulpit. The seats were filling up nicely, and he was glad to see a lot of unfamiliar faces. He looked at his watch and wondered if Dove and Millie had left home yet.

Dr. Campbell Sterrett, Doris, and Hoyt came down the aisle and sat where they sat for every service: third pew from the front on the right. The organ was playing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” and Hoyt was playing with a yo-yo he had gotten as a gift from one of his school friends.

“I thought Louis Wayne and Shirley Ann would be here by now,” Doris said leaning into her husband after they were seated.

“I’m sure they’ll be along.”

“Hoyt, put that thing in your pocket or I’ll put it in mine. I told your father not to let you bring it.”

Louis Wayne and Shirley Ann arrived and slid into the pew.

“Where have you two been?” Doris asked with a familiar scolding tone.

“We brought Granddad,” Louis Wayne whispered.

“What? He’s not here is he?”

“Yeah, he’s back there talking to some people.”

Doris turned her frustration toward her husband.

“Campbell, you know he has no business out on a night like this and in his condition.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Louis Wayne said. “He’s feeling really good and he didn’t want to sit at home by himself on Christmas Eve.”

“Campbell, what are you going to do?” Doris asked. “Do you hear me? What are you going to do?”

Dr. Sterrett looked at the floor for a long time before finally raising his gaze to his wife. “I’m going to sit here, keep my mouth shut, and try to enjoy the fact that it’s almost Christmas. And may I suggest that you, Doris, do the same.”

Amanda stood just inside the two large, wooden doors that opened into the narthex. She smiled and spoke politely to other church members while waiting on Buddy, who was parking the car. She spotted Shirley Ann in the sanctuary just as Buddy walked up.

“Where do you want to sit?” he asked as he looped his coat onto a rack.

“Well, your daughter is sitting up front. Do you want to go up that far?”

“Who’s she sitting with?”

“The Sterretts. There’s room in the seat right behind them.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to sit
behind
the Sterretts. That makes a statement I’m not ready to make.”

“Oh, Buddy, don’t be silly.”

“No. Really. I mean it. There’s room in front of them. Let’s go up and sit in front of them.”

“And that will put you practically on the front row, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you suggest? Just sit on the back row like we usually do?”

“No, I think we should sit with our daughter like we usually do. This may be the last Christmas we have that option and there’s room in the same pew.”

“So sit
with
the Sterrett family is what you’re suggesting, Mrs. Briggs?”

“That I am, Lieutenant. You did leave your gun in the car, didn’t you?”

“Why? Are you worried for me or for Doris?”

Paul still couldn’t see if Dove and Millie had arrived. He had only a couple of minutes before starting the service and he always liked to see that they were seated before walking to the pulpit. It was just a little quirk he had developed over the years, like knocking on wood or touching the silver cross he wore in his lapel. He thought of it as a ritual, not a superstition. Such things couldn’t take the place of religion, but they often did salve the insecurities of the human condition.

“Surprise, Daddy!” Millie poked him in the ribs from behind.

“Sorry we’re late,” Dove said as she folded her gloves and put one in each coat pocket. “We’ll just go around and slip in the back.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. It was a simple gesture but more meaningful to him tonight than it had been for years. Perhaps he had just found a new ritual to look forward to.

By the time Dove and Millie made their way to the back of the sanctuary, the choir had begun to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Two of Millie’s friends walked in and she turned to her mother and asked if she could sit with them.

“Sure.” And they were off, leaving Dove standing in the open doorway. The church was full. Paul would be pleased with the turnout. Dove looked up and down the center and side aisles in search of an empty seat. She finally spotted one on the back row. As the choir began the second verse, she slipped in quietly and sat down. It wasn’t until she reached for a hymnbook that she looked up to see who was next to her.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Dove said.

“I wasn’t expecting to come,” Colleen answered. “But Milton was sleeping. I’ll go back as soon as the service is over. I just needed to be here tonight.”

There was magic in Paul Franklin’s sermon. Everyone who heard his words felt the impact of them on their hearts.

Campbell Sterrett, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his wife, heard a quiet tug on his spirit to soften his heart toward her. His son would be fine. Life would make Louis Wayne the man he was destined to be. Contending through it all with the woman beside him was where he needed more strength. This was his private prayer—to be granted the spiritual wherewithal to deal with his wife in her new role in their growing family.

Doris Sterrett looked down at her hands as Rev. Franklin’s words rang in her ears. She knew she had to manage her emotions in a more acceptable way. She had to get a hold on herself and develop a healthy relationship with her daughter-in-law-to-be. Now was the time to drop her pride and admit the things that were most important. Isn’t that what Paul said just a few second ago? “Forgiveness is first a private matter before you can pass it on.”

Buddy Briggs knew better than anyone how difficult this sermon must be on Paul. He was pretty sure Paul thought the same thing about him. The boy sitting next to his daughter, not six feet away, was the core of it all for Buddy. He had to forgive him. He knew that. And he would. Maybe not tonight. Certainly not as easily as Amanda would. Amanda looked over and smiled at him. He knew what was in her mind. She was seeing a newborn baby, a new creation, a new life that would make a difference in their family from this day on. She was incapable of
not
forgiving. That’s just how her heart was built. He smiled back at her. He always did.

Millie Franklin was sitting with her friends, and Kay was passing a note back and forth between them. They did this often in church but tonight Millie wished they wouldn’t. She wanted to listen to her father’s words without distraction. They were touching her in a new way.

“There is love through blood that can’t be denied or altered,” he said.

She knew forgiveness was hers and she knew what she had to do with it. She closed her eyes there in the pew and made a promise never to knowingly do anything again in her life to hurt or humiliate her parents. And then she prayed for the will to keep that promise. When she opened her eyes, her dad was looking at her and smiling.

Louis Wayne and Shirley Ann wanted to hold hands but knew it would appear too pretentious in church … and next to their parents. Shared thoughts drifted between them. They both wanted to make everything right with their families. Shirley Ann wanted her dad to understand and her mother to know just how much she loved her for the support already given. Louis Wayne wanted his dad to say something—anything that would let him know how he truly felt. And he wanted his mother to let the world know a little less about how she felt. But all these wishes to be understood and accepted were overshadowed by the very real knowledge that
they,
the two of them, had put everyone in this awkward position. It was their actions that brought all these emotions to a head. The first and foremost need they felt, sitting there listening to Rev. Franklin, was God’s forgiveness and a chance to make their lives matter. And that’s what they silently vowed to one another with a quick glance as Paul Franklin said, “Forgiveness is always possible if first you have love.” Just then Louis Wayne reached over and squeezed Shirley Ann’s hand. Tears accented their eyes and they both felt a warmth of grace they would feel as a couple for decades to come.

Milton Sandridge was not asleep as Colleen had thought. He was staring at the ceiling of his hospital room and listening to the words of the Mason Street Methodist pastor over the radio. He knew the words were for him. He felt the personal thump on his heart as Rev. Franklin said, “Struggling for the truth is hard but struggling
with
the truth is even harder.” Milton didn’t move. He just lay there waiting for the next word to fall, hoping in his heart that God would give him the mercy he didn’t deserve.

Walter Selman sat alone on the back bench. He wanted to hear the sermon but also wanted to see the full scope of the people and the church. He and Ella often would sit in the back. How he missed her this night. She would have known just the right words to say to Doris and just the right blend of scolding and encouragement to offer Louis Wayne. And she would have made Shirley Ann feel welcome and still have found a graceful way to warn her about what she was getting into—about how to handle this side of the family. Yes, he missed her. He pretended for just a moment that she was sitting beside him until he couldn’t stand to pretend anymore. Then he smiled a knowing smile and thought,
Isn’t that what we do in life? We pretend until God shows us how.

Paul had long disregarded his notes and was speaking from his heart. He, like the rest of the people in the sanctuary, was hearing these words for the first time. He was talking to himself as surely as if he had been in his car alone rehearsing memory verses. All this talk of forgiveness was not advice for a captive audience; it was Paul working things out for himself. He thought of his daughter—a young lady reaching for independence and gaining the difficult wisdom of experience. He thought of his wife looking him in the eye and telling him she had been “dishonest” with him. As the day progressed and the Devil played with his suspicions, he became less and less certain about what she’d meant. But he was certain of one thing: God knew the difference. Paul’s job was simple—to offer Dove the balm of forgiveness and accept love both coming and going. He spotted Dove and thought he could see tears in her eyes. Then he saw Dove lean over and put her arm around Colleen’s shoulders.

“Colleen,” she whispered, “It’s going to be all right.”

“Is it, Dove?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Walter stood in the vestibule with the other deacons and handed out candy canes to kids and adults alike as they filed out at the end of the service. His family gathered at the front door and just then a soft sprinkle of snow began to fall. He said good night to Colleen and kissed her on the cheek and wished her Merry Christmas and watched as she went toward her car. Doris and Campbell stopped near the curb to wave good-bye to Colleen.