CHRISTMAS 1980
It
was going to be a simple Christmas this year.
Father
Maghill sighed as he looked around the bare room that
acted as the dining area for the orphanage. Although Christmas at the orphanage
was never the extravagant pagan festival the secular world was still trying to
turn it into, he was also painfully aware that this year of all years was not
as special as he might have hoped. They had managed to get enough money
together this year for a half decent Christmas meal, but the presents for the
children were going to be smaller than ever. They were going to be
disappointed, he knew, but there was nothing he could do. There was no more
money.
Slowly
crossing the room, he stopped by the nativity scene they got out year after
year. The figures were starting to get a little faded, worn out and somehow the
shepherds had lost a sheep or two, but all the other figures were still there. The kings, the shepherds, Joseph, but most importantly, in the
centre, the holy Virgin Mary. And in her arms, the
baby Christ, the saviour of the whole world. The greatest gift the world
had ever known. The first Christmas.
He
had stood here before, many times, just looking at the scene. He remembered one
year in particular, must have been a good twenty years ago now, that he had
come down to find one small lad sitting in front of the scene, just looking at
it. Not touching like so many of his age group probably would have, just
watching, his head tipped slightly to one side. He remembered it like
yesterday, how he had joined the lad in his vigil, and they stood together in
silence and just watched.
They
must have stayed like that for over twenty minutes. Even then, the boy had
shown a remarkable patience, his keen blue eyes intensively studying each
character in turn as if committing the sight to memory.
The
boy didn’t say a word. Even when he turned to go leave, he didn't say a
word.
“Al.”
Father
Maghill remembered the boy’s face as he had turned
back to him in the half light, his blond hair falling into his blue eyes,
giving him an almost angelic appearance. He had paused for a moment at
the sight, wanting to say something profound, something the boy would always
remember, but nothing came to mind. So he settled for a smile and a, “Merry
Christmas.”
The
boy had smiled at that, a big smile, that lit up his whole face.
“Merry
Christmas to you too,” the boy had whispered softly in reply.
A Christmas miracle.
They were the first words the boy had said since they had found him wondering
the streets outside the orphanage, no parents in sight. He hadn’t even been
able to tell them his name. Shock they all figured, traumatic shock. Maybe it
was tied in with the loss of his parents. Maybe it had been something else.
Unable
to do anything to help the child remember, even after he had started speaking again,
they had left him be, thinking it best that the memories come back on their
own. But they hadn’t, and the boy had stayed with them until finally being
transferred to another orphanage when he reached his teens.
Sighing,
he turned away from the nativity scene and slowly walked back across the room,
regretfully shutting the door on the bare room.
“Father
Maghill.”
Surprised,
he looked up to find Sister Clarence still up and about. “Yes,
Sister?”
“Father,
there’s a man at the door asking for you.”
A man at the door?
“He
says he’s got some… things for you.”
Father
Maghill raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Did he say what
kind of things?”
“No,
Father, only that there was quite a lot of it.”
Oh.
Well, now, this was a surprise.
“Well,
then, let’s find out what he wants.”
Reaching
the front door, he found himself face to face with a delivery lad wearing a
blue one suit.
“Are
you Father Maghill?” the kid asked impatiently.
“Yes.”
“Delivery for you, sir.”
Within
seconds two more delivery lads appeared, both wearing matching jump suits and
were carrying boxes into the orphanage.
“What’s
all this about?” the Father asked, as box after box passed him.
“Dunno,” the kid shrugged. “I’m just doing what I’m told.
But I’ve got a letter for you here somewhere.” Feeling around his pockets, he
pulled out an envelope and passed it over just as the last box was brought in.
“Guess that’s all then. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry
Christmas,” the father replied absently, shutting the door slowly after the
kid.
“What’s
all this about, Father?” Sister Clarence asked in amazement. “There are clothes
here, toys and food too. Everything we could need in fact.”
“I’m
not sure, Sister,” the Father replied absently, “but I think this letter
explains it.”
Opening
the letter, he slowly started to read.
"Dear
Father Maghill,
I’m
sure you’re wondering just what is going on.
The gifts are for you. There is no
mistake. If you’ve got them it means the
lads delivered them like they said they would.
I wanted to come in person but unfortunately we’re not able to spend
Christmas in LA this year. I’m sure
you’ll put the gifts to good use though.
I’m also sure you’re wondering where they came from.
You
see, last week, my friends and I were hired to
investigate a new charity that had been set up for the Christmas period,
dealing with the usual toys, clothes and food.
Our clients had doubts about the authenticity of the charity and a
little investigating showed that unfortunately the charity was nothing more
than a front for an illegal drug running operation. We shut them down of
course, but found ourselves left with the generous donations that had been made
by people to the charity. We didn’t want to throw anything away so have been
giving all the stuff to other charities and organisations. We couldn’t think of
anyone who would put them to better use.
Yours
sincerely,
Al
PS
- Merry Christmas."
Father
Maghill smiled as he finished the letter. Maybe it would
be a very merry Christmas after all.
*-*-*
