Miracle On Christmas Eve

I come from a family of humble but noble occupations. My father John worked for the postal service while my mother Grace stayed home and took care of my three brothers and I, me being the third of the bunch. Our names from oldest to youngest were Jacob, Sam, Nate (myself), and our youngest brother Leo. We never had much growing up, but our parents loved us dearly and always found a way for us to be content with what we had. That meant we shared a lot of our possessions with one another, which at times could be hard as you can imagine between four brothers. For others, life this way would have been difficult, but for us it was what we knew, and we were delighted with it. Our days were filled with joy.

Time has a funny way of teaching us lessons, both good and bad. One year, in early fall, our dear mother fell gravely ill. The doctors said she had a rare disease for which there was no known cure, and from that moment time seemed to stand still, for though we held onto hope, reality began to creep in, and it slowly became apparent to all of us, my mother included, that these were her last days. From there our family’s way of life was severely uprooted, and we learned that even our most beloved heroes and loved ones only are given a limited, precious amount of time in this world we call our home. When mother passed away, our way of life drastically changed. Father had to go back to work, as broken as he was, and my two older brothers worked extra hard to help take care of the family, and that included taking care of myself and our youngest brother. Autumn began to dwindle away with winter slowly beginning to set in, and our days were shadowed with grief.

Life simply wasn’t the same anymore, as you can imagine. Our home, which once upon a time was full of warmth, comfort, joy, and love, didn’t have the same joy and warmth it had contained in the past. They had perished along with our mother. We didn’t see hardly anyone, especially when school was let out for winter break, and we all tried our best to preoccupy ourselves with various activities, but we would always find ourselves sinking back into despair, hardly talking to one another. Time was hard on all of us, and truly we did try. But one day my father gathered us in the living room and wanted to speak with us. 

“Boys, as you know things have been very hard since your mother passed away. We’ve been managing well financially, but of course all of us are still hurting inside. I thank you each for being strong and for putting on brave faces, I am immensely proud of all of you. This year has been a testament to everyone’s character and strength, and though our days have been dark you have all carried on and held yourselves up and supported one another as brothers should. Christmas as you know is on the horizon, and this year with circumstances being so drastically different, I have decided that we men need to get away for the holidays. We need to go somewhere away from the precious memories which are still too near to us. Your mother and I always talked about heading west to the mountains one year for Christmas, particularly to a little town she always wanted to visit called Oakridge, as a special trip, but we never could afford it in the past. And though we aren’t much better off than in years past, I believe now is the time for such a trip. So, if there are no objections, I would like us to be packed by tomorrow, and we will leave the following day.”

None of us objected, in fact we all agreed getting away was what was needed for our healing family. “Sounds like a great idea dad. I’ll help you as much as I can.” Jacob had offered. So, two days later, as father had told us, we were on the road heading west to Oakridge. The drive was long, but when the flat plains slowly turned into rising hills, towering pines and glistening snow, we knew we were close. The town was high up in the mountains, far away from any major city, so to all of us that sounded wonderful, because we all were seeking peace and solace together as a broken family. We didn’t particularly feel excited to celebrate Christmas this year, despite it always being our favorite holiday in the past. Our mother always made it so special for us, telling us stories of Santa with his reindeer traveling the whole world bringing gifts for all children who were sleeping, and there was great comfort in those stories. This year was different of course, so we were looking forward to a change of pace.

My family and I arrived on the 21st of December, and we checked into the cabin a little outside of town towards evening time. Oakridge was one of those places where everything ran along one long street, which was easy enough for us. The town was old, full of brick buildings and little cafes and inns, and contained the essential establishments (gas station, bank, courthouse, etc.). The small town looked like a scene from a Christmas card. Tiny shops with wreaths on the doors, strings of lights wrapped around lamp posts, and the faint scent of pine in the air. 

We were starving, as five boys would be after a long trip, so after we unloaded all our luggage into the cabin, we drove around town in search of a local restaurant, and found a local pizza parlor, which seemed good enough for us. Small talk was made while we ate, which was a big improvement. We talked about the drive here, how stuffy the car was, the cool places we saw on the way, things of that nature. Our father had given us an idea of what we’d spend our time doing while here, and how long we’d be here for.

“I’m thinking we’ll spend a week here, just through Christmas and some days after” he said, “There’s lots to do here for such a small town. This trip is about making memories, and of course for us to heal as a family and sort of start anew.”

By the time we finished dinner it was well after dark, so we headed back to the cabin and went to sleep in our own beds. I lay there thinking of mother that night. She was so warm and full of comfort for all of us, always smiling and always giving us a hand when we asked for it. Our dear mother was the life of our home, and with her passing went the life force of home. It seemed then just like an empty building with no warmth or light. These thoughts guided me as I drifted off into sleep with tears slowly streaking down my face.

The first few days were hard. All of us still felt heavy with grief even with the change of scenery. The cabin was warm and cozy, but it was void of Christmas spirit. Jacob found himself sitting by the window, staring out at the falling snow, feeling both distant and disconnected from everything. Sam spent lots of his time outside in the nearby woods trying to quiet his mind. Leo spent his time with father, helping him around the cabin and asking about mother. Things didn’t seem to improve at first.

Meanwhile I wandered around the town and explored some of the shops. I was at an age where I understood the gravity of our hardships, but also wanted to experience the magic of Christmas still and find meaning, so that was my quest as I called it this trip, was to help my family find meaning despite our hardships. I wandered up and down town, saying hello to locals and watching the carolers sing classic Christmas songs. For a small town, Oakridge was busy with people doing last minute shopping and enjoying the seasonal festivities. I was beginning to really resonate with this enchanted place.

The morning of Christmas Eve arrived, and I found myself wandering around town again, but this time I found myself in front of the town’s local chapel. An elderly man was outside smiling, and as I approached, he greeted me with a “Good morning to you lad! Merry Christmas Eve!”

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too sir.”, I replied.

“Forgive me, but I don’t recognize you young sir. What’s your name if I may ask?”, the man asked me.

“My name’s Nate, and I’m here with my three brothers and father on vacation.”, I replied.

“Is that right? We get some people every year visiting us around this time. What brought your family here if I may ask?”

I hesitated, but seeing his kind face assured me I could trust him. “It’s sort of a long story really, but our mother passed away earlier this year, and our father said that she found this place some time ago and wanted to come see it, but we never could afford it in the past. So, this year our father decided it was time we came here to get away from the memories of home during the holidays. I think we’ve each come here looking for something.”

He looked at me with a solemn expression full of pity, and replied “my dear boy, I have no words. I am adamantly sorry for the loss of your beloved mother. What you and your poor family are going through right now, it’s incredibly difficult. My sweet wife of 57 years passed away just two years ago, and when that happened, I too became lost. I understand from a certain point of view where you and your family are coming from. But you see this here chapel we’re standing in front of?”

“I do.”

“Come join us tonight, if you and your family like. I can see you are seeking, it’s what I sought when Evelyn passed: Answers. You’re looking for meaning amid tragedy. Well, it’s Christmas Eve, and this humble little chapel every year gives a good word at 6:00. If you and your family would like, I’d be honored to sit with alongside you. No one should feel alone on Christmas Eve.”

I pondered his invitation, and for the first time since mother passed, I felt a little sensation inside, a little spark of hope, beginning to take shape. Something was beginning to change within me, but I didn’t know what yet. I looked up at the elderly man and accepted his invitation. I told him I’d talk to my brothers and father, and he smiled at me and bid me a good day. Afterwards I headed home eager to talk with my family.

Later in the evening we all travelled to the chapel for the service. The chapel was old and small, but it was a humble little building, and the people gathered within were kindhearted and tender towards us, complete strangers. There was a sense of welcome inside and the chapel was warm, with the candles flickering in the soft light. The air was filled with carols, and though none of us really felt like singing, there was a strange comfort in the music. As we stood in one of the pews and observed everyone around us singing carols with pure joy and happiness, we couldn’t help but notice they all had something we were looking for. Each of us drank in the beauty we couldn’t deny was in this chapel. 

Once the music stopped the preacher asked us to sit and he began to speak. He didn’t speak for long, but he spoke of a story long ago, of a miracle baby born in a humble little manger, who was called Immanuel, who was the Savior of this world we live in, and that all of humanity’s hope can be found in Him, if only we look for Him, regardless of our condition. He spoke of a love that is beyond man’s understanding and comprehension, that though we live in a fallen and broken world, and bad things happen sometimes, we are found and healed through the One who had the humblest of beginnings. We were reminded we celebrate Christmas with love for this Savior and with love for our neighbor, by giving what we can to those in need, serving one another and finding joy in Him, not in things of this world. 

After the service ended, we went back to the car and sat for a few moments and pondered what we had just heard. After a few moments Sam broke the silence by saying, “I really liked that message. I think it’s what our family needed to hear.” 

“I loved it! The songs were so pretty!”, little Leo added.

“I feel something inside that’s different from anything else I’ve felt since mother passed.”, Jacob noted.

“Thank you Nate for taking us here. That was beautiful son.”, Father said after turning around and smiling.

I couldn’t help but turn red. “I just wanted our family to find meaning and healing, and this seemed like the place to go.”

“Well, it certainly seems to have started something for the better. What do you boys say we grab some dinner and head back to the cabin?” Father had asked.

We all thought that was a great idea, so we decided on the same pizza parlor again, and headed back to our cabin. When we returned, father said he wanted to take an evening drive and just ponder some things and asked Jacob to watch us. He said he wouldn’t be gone long, and we didn’t think much of it. We all sat in the living room by the fire and enjoyed one another’s company for Christmas Eve, enjoying the crackling of the fire and the warmth of the cabin. When father returned, he let us know he was home then stepped out onto the porch overlooking the mountains and stood outside for a bit. Jacob followed shortly after and stood by him.

“You okay?” Jacob asked.

Father nodded slowly. “I was just thinking about your mother. She always wanted to come here, to see the mountains in the winter. I’m glad we came. For her. She would have loved all of this.”

Jacob stood beside him, looking at the same snow-covered peaks illuminated by the full moon. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stir inside him—not pain, not grief, but quiet peace, a small stirring inside, something telling him that everything was going to be okay. 

The next day, Christmas morning, I woke up to the soft glow of the sun rising over the mountains. I was the first to wake and get out of bed. I used to always get up earlier than my brothers on Christmas morning, and shortly after I woke little Leo woke too. We went into the living room, and we found a small tree in the corner, decorated with ornaments father had found in town when he went out last night. What was even better, we found gifts for all of us wrapped underneath the tree, from Santa for that matter. When Leo saw everything, his face lit up with immense excitement, especially after seeing the gifts under the tree.

“Is it Christmas now?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

“It is, Leo,” I said, just as surprised as he was. “It’s Christmas.”

“Santa found us here? We aren’t even home!” he replied.

“It certainly seems like he did.”

We went to wake up our older brothers and father, and once we were all gathered in the living room with a fire going, we spent the morning unwrapping gifts, laughing together, and for the first time, we all felt a glimmer of the joy that had once filled our lives. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was there, and it was enough. We had each other, and that was something to hold on to.

After we opened our gifts, which were each extra precious, and after we had eaten breakfast, we ventured out into the snow-covered woods behind the cabin. We walked, making tracks in the fresh powder, our laughter echoing off the trees. Leo ran ahead, his small voice calling out, “Mommy would’ve loved this!”

In that moment, we all stopped. And for a fleeting second, it was as if mother was there with us, smiling from the snow-covered trees, her laughter carried on the wind.

Jacob looked at all of us, the pain still there but softened. We would never forget our dearest mother, and we didn’t have to. But we could and would find a way to live, to love, and to carry her with us for the rest of our lives. We learned that our hope is above, our peace was found deep within, and our love was serving each other and that, perhaps, was the greatest gift we could give each other this Christmas.

The day progressed and we spent all day outside laughing and playing together like we all used to as young boys. As the sun set behind the mountains, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, father turned and looked at all of us with a smile. “We’ll be okay,” he said quietly. “One step at a time.”

And it was that magical Christmas that we knew the road ahead would be hard, some days harder than others, but we were no longer walking alone. We once again realized we had each other, and the journey—no matter how long—would always lead us toward the light, towards the One who saves us all.