“Dear Bug”

By Shirlene Wright

The outside Christmas lights danced on my bedroom curtains as I tossed and turned. It was Christmas Eve and being 13, an official teenager, I was ready for the 10-speed bike. All my friends either had one or would have one by morning.

With my bedroom door closed tight I could hear the stirring, closet doors opening quietly, the crinkle of wrapping paper, the scissors on the curling ribbon. As I lay on my pillow wide-eyed I figured they probably wouldn't wrap the bike; they'll just set it out. I could hardly breathe as I pictured the scene in my mind.

Then, just as the sounds began to fade, I heard something that made me jump up and put my ear right against my bedroom door. No, I wasn't sure, but I was pretty sure I heard it! Tick, tick, tick. That was it! The sound of a 10-speed bike coasting. I knew that sound 'cause I listened to it every day after school as I walked next to Patty's bike.

I tiptoed back into bed and tried to close my eyes and dream. Then, the hour finally arrived and all five of us were huddled at the meeting spot at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Mom to give us the OK that Dad was finally awake.

When we burst through the paper my eyes fell upon another magical Christmas morning, just like it had been since I could ever remember. I found my stocking full and lying gently across my many gifts. I received all that I needed and most of what I wanted but it didn't include a 10-speed bike.

I carefully drew the candy from my stocking trying to reach the orange at the toe. Between the candy and the orange was a sealed white envelope. I looked around and noticed only my older brother and I had one. I opened it and began to read the words written in my mother's handwriting.

"Dear Bug." BUG! That's my nickname. Dad gave it to me when I was born. But, I'm a teenager now!! I read on . . . "I know you wanted a bicycle for Christmas, but with Dad being out of work a few months this winter, we just weren't able to buy the bike and make it equal for all five of you. But, now that you're growing up I decided this year I would give you my testimony of love and faith."

As I read the entire letter a certain peace came to my wanting heart. And although they didn't fall to my cheeks, I felt tears in my eyes. The letter ended, "There will be other Christmases and even bicycles but I wanted you to know that I love you, and there isn't anything in your life that you and the Lord can't handle together. All my love, MOM."

Then, it happened. The phone rang. Tammy told me all about her brand new bike. I told her mine would come later and I shared my beautiful Christmas gifts. It would be June on my birthday when I got my bicycle.

Years passed and I was married with six beautiful children. The year 1998 was a particularly difficult year.

In May, I had tumors removed from my throat. In June we received a phone call asking us to care for an 11-month-old girl whose parents could no longer care for her. In July we found that the property of the house we lived in was being bought for commercial use and Ken's job dropped some of his hours. By August we were packing to move and our son was nearly killed in a tragic industrial accident.

And believe it or not, the clock kept ticking and the Christmas Eve of 1998 still arrived. I sat on the couch exhausted and staring at the scrawny pine in the corner wondering, "Where do we go from here?" With much of our things still in boxes I couldn't find the star that topped our tree for years.

I was prompted to look in the cedar chest for the star. As I rummaged through the school paper and high school pictures, I discovered an old envelope. On the back it read, "Shirlene." Stepping back to the couch I snuggled in a blanket and opened the envelope.

"Dear Bug." Oh, how I love that name. Dad gave it to me when I was born. Tears began to blur the page as I read Mom's handwriting. "I know you really wanted a bike this year."

Tears turned to sobs of gratitude as I read the precious testimony of love my mother once gave me in my stocking. I read on, "I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and . . .

"There will be many more Christmases and even bicycles, but remember there isn't anything in your life you and the Lord together can't handle. All my love, MOM."

The tiny string of lights danced on the curtains in my living room as I fell to my knees beside the couch in humble gratitude for a precious gift I received as a young girl.

Where bicycles rust lie the treasures of the world. I would have to say that one of the most memorable Christmases in my life was not the year I didn't get a 10-speed bike, but the year of 1998 when I received into my heart the miraculous gift that time will never erase, the words of my mother's testimony of hope