A Christmas to Share

by Johanna Goodwin

Rulon snuggled down into the warmth of his sheets and comforter. Every evening just before he hopped into bed, his mother ironed the foot of the sheets to remove the chill of the unheated bedroom. Rulon shivered involuntarily when he realized that even with such saving measures, their coal supply would probably not last out the winter. “If only Pa hadn’t died last summer,” he sighed miserably.

He tried to shut out such thoughts by thinking of the Christmas tree downstairs. Earlier that Christmas Eve afternoon, he and his brothers had hiked into the woods to chop down the Douglas fir his sisters had picked out the day before. “It’s a beauty, all right,” he thought, “thick and full and fragrant with the rich smell of fir.”

He smiled to himself, remembering Bessie’s laughter as she threaded popcorn and cranberries into garland for the branches. This was the first year she’d been old enough to do it without breaking more of the popped kernels than she strung, and she had proudly declared, “I strung almost as many pieces as you ate, Rulon!”

His pleasant thoughts ended abruptly as he remembered the emptiness of the floor beneath the tree. He knew that his mother had an orange and some nuts for each of the children, but that was all there would be this year. The family had sold almost everything to pay off the debts when their father died, and there wasn’t anything extra to spare. “There’s not even a new ornament this year,” Rulon thought dismally. One of his father’s favorite traditions had been to make a different hand-carved wooden ornament for the tree each year. Lately, Rulon had been trying to fill Pa’s shoes in most respects, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to take on this particular responsibility.

Rulon awoke the next morning to find two huge, blue eyes staring into his. “Oh, Rulon,” Bessie cried. “Wake up! It’s Christmas! Are you going to sleep all day?

“All day!” Rulon muttered to himself as he watched her scamper out of the room. “There’s a whole hour before daylight yet!” But he couldn’t help chuckling at her eagerness as he leapt out of the bed and dressed, dancing from one foot to the other on the cold floor.

The kitchen was a mess of confusion by the time Rulon got there. His mother was busy frying eggs and making biscuits while his seven brothers and sisters scurried around in an effort to help setting the table and pouring the milk. “Thought this one day I’d let you sleep as long as you could,” his mother called over her shoulder as Rulon entered. “But I guess Bessie couldn’t wait.”

“Come on, Rulon!” eight year old Nathan fairly shouted. “The sooner we get breakfast eaten and cleaned up, the sooner we can go to the tree.”

With all of them pitching in, everything was soon ready. Despite Ma’s warning of, “Don’t wolf your food!” and “Slow down and taste it!” there was soon nothing left of the morning’s fare. After breakfast was cleared away, the family lined up according to ages and marched in to the tree.

Caught up in the excitement of the morning, Rulon almost forgot his bitterness. After feasting on oranges and nuts, the whole family joined in singing every Christmas carol they knew – and then they sang some over again. Finally Ma declared, “Because this is such a happy occasion, I think we should do something really special. Since we have so much and are so blessed, I think it’s only right that we should share Christmas with another family.”

So much! The words hit Rulon like a bullet. Why, we don’t have enough for ourselves, and she wants us to take to someone else! The children glanced at each other, somewhat puzzled, as though they couldn’t believe what they had heard. But Ma seemed not to notice their bewilderment and went on to explain. “I want each of you to go to your rooms and find something you would like to give away. You have some nice hair ribbons, Wanda, and I know you have two pairs of mittens, Harold. But you decide. While you find your gifts, I’ll bake some apple pies to put in a crate with everything else.”

As Rulon dragged up the stairs after his brothers and sisters, confused thoughts whirled around in his mind. “What do I have to give away?" He wondered. “I – we’ve all had to do without so much lately, and now Ma wants us to find something nice we don’t need. I don’t get it.”

Rulon was the last one to bring his gift back down to the tree. After looking around for a long time, he finally settled on a fine linen pocket handkerchief that a maiden aunt had sent him from the East. His brothers and sisters were already wrapping their offerings in some brown paper and string. Rulon looked with interest to see what they had found. Wanda had contributed hair ribbons; Harold his extra pair of mittens; Nathan was parting with the straw hat he had woven last summer – “Can always make me a new one next year,” he volunteered as he saw Rulon watching him; Thelma was intently wrapping the lace jabot that adorned her otherwise plain Sunday dress, and from the shape of the package Ralph was tying string round, Rulon knew he had given away his reed whistle. Tears sprang to Rulon’s eyes, though, when he saw Bessie struggling to wrap the stuffed calico cat that she slept with every night.

Just then, Ma entered the room, brushing some flour off her apron. “Well, the pies are baking,” she announced. “Rulon, why don’t you go get the crate from the barn to put all of these gifts in?”

Something seemed to snap suddenly inside Rulon, and he faced his mother fiercely. “Ma, what are we doing, anyway? We don’t even have enough for ourselves, and here you have us taking Christmas to someone else? This is crazy.”

The room was hushed as the children stared in amazement at their oldest brother. But Ma didn’t seem angry at his outburst. Her shoulders sagged a little as though she were suddenly tired, but her face reflected only deep love and concern. Finally she spoke, “I’m not quite sure I understand, son. We’re some of the richest people on this earth. We have a fine house to live in, clothes to wear, and I don’t recall any of us ever having to go to bed hungry. More importantly, we’ve got each other and even though your Pa’s gone, we know that we’ll see him again. And we’ve got our testimonies of the gospel, and there’s no kind of earthly treasure that I’d ever exchange for that.” She paused, but went on when Rulon didn’t speak. “Seems to me we’re rich and very blessed, and it would be selfish of us not to want to share our bounty with others.”

Rulon was strangely quiet on the way home from the Kirkham’s house later that evening. He had laughed with the others when the presents were opened and as the two families joined in games and singing. But after doing his evening chores and eating supper, he excused himself, saying he needed to get something from the barn. While the others gathered around the tree to tell stories, he went to the room he shared with his brothers, explaining that there was something he wanted to do.

It was past everyone’s usual bedtime when Ma called the family together for the traditional reading of the Christmas story from Luke. Rulon appeared at the top of the stairs holding something behind his back. “I have something to say,” he began a little shyly, but his eyes twinkled. “This has been a wonderful day for all of us, and especially for me.” He cleared his throat before he went on. “I learned a lot today, and I tried to think of some way to remind myself of it in the future. I know it’s a little late to be hanging up our new ornament for the year, and I know it’s not nearly as nice as the ones that Pa always made, but...”

Rulon drew his hands from behind his back to reveal a soft wood carving of a wooden crate, topped with a Christmas bow and inscribed: “A Christmas to Share, 1931.”

Everyone was sniffing as Rulon lifted Bessie up so she could hang the new ornament near the top of the tree.

“It’s lovely, son,” Ma said softly. “Now why don’t you sit here in this chair and read the Christmas story to us.”