Black Knight...Prince Charming!

Just for Valentine's...

I
The first night my black knight came to visit me
he stood at the end of my bed starring with those eyes of emerald.
The second night His lips hung close to my ear.
His breath smelled like vinegar and rose buds
and he whispered lies and what-nots that seeped into my soul,
until the taste of rosebuds resided in my mouth
and the stinging vinegar coursed through my veins.
He vibrated in me and I wanted more.
He patiently (or so it seemed) came three nights after.
He was chivalress, handsome,I wanted him,
But more importantly he wanted me.
I was desired and it was enough.
The sixth and final night he came
and I knew he came to take.
I was more than willing to give.
The pain bulged like a fat water balloon pricked by a sharp needle.
This was surely not what love and intimacy felt like.
I was hallowed from the inside out.
The wine drank, quickly became bitter and I spat blood.
He tore his body from mine and slithered out the door.
I could not catch my breath to say,"Wait, don't go!"
And was left with my open wounds.The smell of death entered the room.

II
The first night that my Prince Charming came to see me
the song of death hovered over me and I was accepting of the melody.
I did not wish for Him to see me in this condition and begged him to leave me with my shame,
but He stayed.
His strong and gentle face displayed His mercy blanket of peace for me,
while His gentle eyes of the sea conveyed forgiveness and acceptance.
He washed and dressed my wounds, and stroked my hair;
he never left when the sun broke through the surface.
He was with me always,
Never telling me how much he loved or desired me,
but showing me.
The nights that followed He stayed by my side.
Never saying that my wounds were ugly,
but showing me His scars in an intimacy I never felt before.
His love was pure, and I knew I needed it.
The seventh night my Prince Charming was there my Black Knight came slithering back
scratching for a hole to seep into,
but he found none.
He screamed angry words of forgiveness
and pleaded for me to unlock the blood soaked door,
but it was my Prince Charming that spoke in my defense.
"You have no place her Black Knight, leave my beloved alone."
The demon-eyed Black Knight turned on his haunches and slithered away.

Some New Poems!

"Pulsating"

Pulsating, moving, breathing, living art,
Rhythm, blues, classic, rock,
Life, breath…talent from God.

Strength, slender, towering tree,
Dreads, Color, Black, a King!
Heartbeat, rhythm, moving me to my knees!

Sensual, Masculine, Feminine, LiFe…
…MoViNg fluid through space and time.
Mother Earth, Father Time, RhYThm in syncopated time!

Spirit, Soul, those long ago,
Keep moving, moving, moving feet toward the goal,
Of love, laughter, passion, joy…the journey of a MoViNg soul!

---------------------------------------------

"Baby Doll"

Fair-haired porcelain treasured thing,
sittin’ in a field where briars grow.

Waxen lips and glassen eyes,
Joints that move…thick…precise.

You are only good if adored!
Were you made for something more?

Pretty blue dress was soiled today,
Mama says I should throw you away.

“B-a-a-b-y D-o-l-l!” he drawls to me,
“Come be all you can be!”

Lady on the street and a trollop in bed,
First say grace and then break bread!

Pretty Baby Doll with the Soiled Dress on,
Sittin’ in a field where briars grow…

Beloved!

Dear Beloved,

How I have wanted to share with you my feelings for the longest time? What a blessed treasure you are to me. I deeply love you and long for you to trust me completely. I know how easily you can get heavy laden with the little mundane tasks. Life so often comes and interrupts my desire to commune with you. Heaven is glorious and I am daily preparing the place I have for you here. I cannot wait until you arrive and have asked the Father over and over when I might be able to come and get you. Not to much longer my love, I promise!

Do you realize that Heaven stills when you speak? I love to sing over you day and night. My song is lifted on high with the glorious love I have in my heart for you. You have stolen my heart plain and simple with one simple glance of your eyes. I will make a lasting covenant with you a bond that will never be broken. I will betroth you forever in righteousness and justice. I am filled with love and compassion for you. I love you completely and deeply. My creation displays my love for you. A blessed sunrise is a beloved kiss from my lips. The wind dancing through the trees is the song I sing to you. The majesty of the mountains and the majestic blue sky is me hugging you. Oh beloved, you are the most important thing to me. I love you with unfailing love and affection. Please know that my heart beats for you. I love you for your unique inner beauty and strength. I will answer you before you ask for I know the tremblings of your very heart. I will quiet you and give you the rest that you need. I will protect you from the evil predator that looks to devour and destroy. I will tend to your every need.

Thank you for communing with me. My favorite times are sitting and talking with you. Will you allow me to love on you a little? Can you realize how my heart delights in you? You are my beautiful masterpiece orchestrated by my very hand. I did not craft you by mistake and there is no room for junk in my art gallery. When I see you displayed on my wall my heart flutters and my lungs fill with pride. I am so completely in love with you beloved. You are more precious to me than all the lilies of the valley, the birds in the air, and the grass of the fields. You captivate my very being. You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

I have created in you a pure heart and I daily renew your spirit if you would only let my love for you spill forth. I will never cast you from my presence and I have given you the Holy Spirit. I want to restore in you the joy of your salvation and delight in watching the passion dance in your eyes. I want to give you a willing spirit and sustain you through the grind of daily life. Let me love you beloved. It is all I desire to do. You are mine let me hide you in the shadow of my wings, let me rejoice over you.

Beloved, you are ever in my watch care. I pray that your heart will be settled and that you will rest in my arms. I have plans not to harm you but to give you the keys to the kingdom. Until we meet face to face know I am ever watching you. It won’t be long darling. You are my treasure, my hope, my all. I LOVE YOU!



The Lover of Your Soul,
Jesus

One Silent Night

I wrote this story about three years ago for my church. I wrote it in about three hours. I unfolded on a beautiful drive home from a church service. I was thinking of a way to stay thank you and the story just spilled out. It is the first time I felt God writing the story and I was just typing it. It is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy...

Old man winter shivered across the Earth stirring up magic and snow on the tiny streets of Bethlehem. The streets of the small town glittered and winked with each kiss of a moonbeam. The town folk were all nestled and cozy dreaming dreams that only Christmas could bring. The town fairly twinkled with holly and lights wrapped snuggly around light polls, spilling from store windows, and dancing on window pains. The town, while sleeping, was not quite dead. “Ding dong, Ding dong” went the bells in the tower of St. Mary’s Catholic Church whispering to it’s patrons that Christmas Eve mass was about to begin. The carols wafted from the old church like steam from a cup of hot cocoa, sweet, delicious, and warm.


A man, bent by life, and withered by a journey fully lived, stood outside the steps of St. Mary’s, eyes closed, taking in the sweet sounds of the rejoicing congregation. “Bless them Lord, they so love you, and in turn have reminded me that I do as well. May you be so remembered in each heart this Christmas and Christmases to come.” After whispering this prayer the old man lifted his glistening eyes toward Heaven to behold the clear blanket that had unfolded before him. “What a wondrous hand that has made this magical night.” With a little sigh he turned his back toward the church and began to slowly walk down the abandoned streets. Steadied by his cane his steps were slow and sure, his soul filled up and spilled over, and the song Silent Night came slow and low from his lips. In his right hand he held his cane, and under his left arm a small wooden object set snuggly between the fabrics of his weathered coat. He was certain of his mission and would not quit until it was completed. How still and quite everything was. How beautiful and peaceful. This gentle peace must have been felt the first Christmas.


An hour swiftly past and finally the old man beheld the little church sleeping snuggly on the hill. His heart skipped a beat and his weathered pace quickened. Still wheezing the old Christmas hymn he began to climb the hill. The journey was long and hard, but he had come through a lot worse. Once at the top he turned to look at the town of Bethlehem beneath him, for you could see the expanse of the town from this spot. The old man always felt that the little church was a true reminder of the Shepherd watching his flock. For as the good Shepherd is always watching over us, so this little church watched over the town. He ascended the steps one by one, and with a little push this way and a little tug that he gently opened the door of the little church. The warmth inside wrapped around him like a blanket and he slowly stepped inside closing the door behind him.


Walking to the front of the church he sat in the front pew placing his cane and the wooden object beside him he folded his hands in prayer. With the prayer finished he picked up the small wooden object and walked to the alter, laying it ever so gently in its final resting place. He stroked the intricate face and a single tear trickled down his wrinkled cheek. Eyes lifted to Heaven he whispered one final prayer, “I love you”, and with that prayer he disappeared into the night air.

1:05am

Pastor Woods sat straight up in bed sweat trickling from his brow, chills running up and down his spine. He had struggled falling to sleep and he could not believe the blurry numbers he read on the clock. He had worked for hours to make this last Christmas Day service perfect. He and Martha had had a fight over this very fact. Yet, he struggled with the reason he had awoken so suddenly. The dream he was having was quickly being erased from his memory, and the foggy remnants didn’t seem to be anything that would have startled him out of his sleep. He looked at Martha still snug and sleeping under the covers. He brushed her cheek with his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry.” He had been on edge lately, after more than 45 years of service he was retiring from being Peace Hill Baptist’s Pastor. He knew the Lord was leading him on this path, but he was having a very hard time letting go.


He parted the covers back and slunk out of bed as quiet as a mouse. He gathered his clothes from the chair next to the bed and journeyed into the bathroom to change. Dressed and ready, he slipped past his bed and still sleeping wife and descended the steps of the home he and Martha had lived in since they were married. He took the keys from the hook on the kitchen wall and headed for the front door. A little creak rang through the house as he opened the door. He squinted and prayed that it did not wake Martha from her slumber. The chill of the night air grabbed him and a shiver ran up his back as he descended the porch steps.


Lights on and headed in reverse the old Fords heat was puffing strong and steady. He made a left turn onto Grace Street and began to climb the hill to the little church that he had preached at many a Sunday. Pulling the truck into one of the snow covered parking spaces he turned the key and the cars engine died beneath his fingertips. Opening the door, he stepped out of the truck; his eyes glistened for the church was beautiful against the frosty night. Traveling up the familiar stairs he was quickly inside the warmth and familiarity of his church.


Pastor Woods could not figure out what drove him here. “What am I looking for” he thought as he checked over every pew to see if anything was out of place. Everything was where it should be he thought, and finally decided the stress of the last few months had made him a little undone. He sat down slowly on the first pew of the church and bowed his head in prayer. As he lifted the words to Heaven and extra warmth filled his soul, warming him from the inside out. He gently opened his eyes and his hands touched his wet face. He hadn’t even realized that he had been crying. He rose to leave when his eyes caught the corner of something that was on the alter. He saw that it was a small box made out of cherry wood and beautifully carved. The etching was of a cross encircled by a heart. His hands traced the surface before lifting the lid. Inside was a letter that simply read, “All I have I give to you, Happy Birthday.”


The box not only contained the letter but an old war metal, what appeared to be wedding bands, some old coins, a piece of cloth that smelled like rose water, and a picture of a young boy. Pastor Woods flipped the picture over and read in the pale moonlight the name of Peter Sims. He repeated the name over and over in his mind. Why did it sound familiar to him? “Peter Sims”, his lips uttered the name trying to draw the knowledge that was trapped in his brain. Suddenly he remembered where he knew that name. Several weeks ago a middle aged woman had asked him to come and talk and pray with her ailing father. She said that he didn’t have much time. Pastor Woods had noticed the dark circles under her eyes, but more importantly the sadness in them. With a gentle squeeze of his hand he promised that he would be there. Peter Sims was her Father’s name.


He rushed out of the church back into his truck and fired up the engine. It wasn’t long before he saw the lights of the local hospital. He ran through the hallway and up the stairs, forget taking the elevator. His feet didn’t slow until he saw the number 214. The door was slightly ajar and he softly knocked as he opened it. His ears caught the faintest sound of what he thought was singing. He gently passed the door and saw the Sims family on their knees, holding hands, eyes closed, faces turned to Heaven, and coming from each mouth soft and low was the beautiful carol Silent Night. The daughter lifted her eyes until they met his, and she slowly loosened the grip of those next to her and rose to her feet to greet him. “Oh Pastor, Dad would be so glad that you stopped by. He talked about you often after you left that day.”


Turning toward her family, who by this time had risen to their feet she introduced each to Pastor Woods. Each greeted him with a warm and gentle smile and hello. However, Pastor Woods’ eyes kept traveling to the empty hospital bed. “Your Father, where is he”, he finally asked the daughter. “Dad passed away a few hours ago. We asked the nurses if we could stay a little while and pray. They were kind enough to let us.” “I am so sorry”, Pastor Woods said. “Don’t be, Dad lived a full life, and his death was so peaceful and gentle. It was if the angels came and scooped him up and carried him to the Savior arms.” “I know this might sound strange, but what time did you Father pass away?” Pastor Woods asked with pleading eyes. The daughter began to think for a moment and said, “I guess it was around 1:05 am Pastor, but why do you want to know?” A shiver shot through Pastor Woods’ back. “I think I felt the brush of the angels’ wings as they passed by.” “What a strange and wondrous thing to say,” she said.


Suddenly remembering something important she went to the dresser beside the bed and pulled something from it. “Dad left you this card with specific instructions that it was not to be open until Christmas Day.” With trembling hands Pastor Woods took the card from the daughter’s hand and kissed her cheek whispering, “Bless you and your family dear child.” She leaned into his ear and whispered back, “He already has dear man.” They exchanged Merry Christmases through teary eyes and Pastor Woods found it hard to walk as he left the room.


He did take the elevator this time and as he stepped outside he was not sure that his legs would hold him. He found a bench and wiped a portion of the snow from its frame. He sat down and pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. He broke the seal and pulled the small card from its package. The picture on the front was of Jesus laying in a manager and a star overhead. He slowly opened the card to discover the words it held inside. The card read:

Pastor Woods,

It was great to talk with you today. As my daughter has often told me I am old and set in my ways. I adamantly refused when she told me you were stopping by. I was not ready to let go, and the thought of seeing your face was a sure sign that the end was near.

However, when you came in I was filled with peace and comfort. Your ease and gentle manner put my soul to rest. You never talked at me, but with me. You are the true art of what a pastor should be. I loved sharing old memories with you that I felt long buried. Thank you Pastor for showing me God’s love in a real way. You helped this old man to let go.

After you left my daughter told me of your circumstances and that you were struggling with your retirement. Well, I guess we have something in common. We were both struggling with letting go of a life we weren’t through living. And this fact got me to thinking.

God gave up so much sending His Son that fateful Christmas Eve. He had to watch Him grow in love and strength and honor, and then He had to watch Him die. I lost a boy myself when he was only 7 years old, it has been more than 60 years and it still rips my heart out everyday, and I know I did not give him up freely to save someone else. I’m not even sure that I could do that. Our Father in Heaven gave up so much so that we might have eternal life.

This fact not only makes me trust Him, but makes me want to trust Him.

I say all this to say we have to live life to His will not to our own.

Trust Him Pastor, let go!


Yours,
Pete

PS Remember He gave it all one Silent Night!


Tears fell onto the card blurring the ink. Pastor Woods tucked the card safely back into his pocket, wiped the tears from his face, and rose from the bench. As he walked through the cold crisp night the sweet words of Silent Night spilled from his lips.

THE END

The Christmas Shop

This was my third Christmas Story I ever wrote. It was in a time when I was trying to give a little edge to my writing, edge and Christmas don't really mix. A fact about my writing...I HATE to write dialogue. It pains me to do it. I love descriptive writing. I would rather lay out a landscape, tell you what smells you are smelling, and the feeling you are going to get, than to dialogue. So, needless to say this was a very descriptive piece for me, that was my point in writing it. I've grown in both, I think, since then. I hope you enjoy "The Christmas Shop" and the message it was trying to bring....

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Dear Fredrick,

I am enclosing a little story that I wrote over Christmas break, I know that I no longer work for the paper, but if you could just take a look at it, and consider it, that would be much appreciated. Let me know as soon as possible if it’s Harrington material.

Thanks,
Kristen McFallen

The Christmas Shop

There is a place where magic happens. REAL MAGIC! Not all that fake stuff conjured up by some bored old man that has nothing better to do in his life but to pull rabbits out of a faded black hat. This place resides in a town oddly enough called Summerton. You ask, “Why is this weird?” Well for one, the shop is called ‘The Christmas Shop’, and by mere coincidence that is exactly what it is. A shop filled with every Christmas thing you could possibly dream up, and some that you couldn’t. It is opened year round. Now, if you simply peeked in this shop you wouldn’t think that anything out of the ordinary was going on. In fact you might find it cluttered with worthless junk that usually gets lost in the bottom of a card board box, packed away forever never to see the light of another Christmas again. But as you know magic just doesn’t show itself straight out. It hides until the right person comes along at the right time. Then it shows itself in all its glory to these people who have lost their childhood ideals, and have no time for anything fun or well, to put it quite bluntly, magical. This story is about one person in particular that just happened to find that miracle for herself. So sit back, grab a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, and dare to believe…




…The long dirt road seemed to never end. The same scenery kept repeating itself over and over. Krista felt her nerves fraying as she slowly rolled the window to get a breath of fresh air, and was impaled with dust and suffocating air. She quickly rolled up her window and turned on the radio. Some soothing music would help to calm her nerves, and relax those muscles that had been strained by so many hours behind the wheel. All that was on her mind was a hot bath and a cool bed. It was going to be very easy to sleep for days. She finally decided to turn off the radio after surfing and finding one station that played Christmas music. She found this totally ridiculous, not being a festive sort of person at all. Why had she told her friend Cynthia she would come for Christmas? Was it the loss of her job that drove her to the insanity of replying with, “Sure I would love to spend Christmas there,” or the thought of getting away from the cold and uncaring world to take a small step back in time? The closer she drew to Summerton she felt a small still voice raging in her telling her to turn the car right around and go back home. Then she saw it. The old dilapidated sign that read in crooked, hand carved letters…Summerton. “Oh God, I have walked off the face of the earth,” Krista commented to herself as she scanned the very small town.

The town was littered with old little shops. A bakery, a pharmacy, a market, a clothing shop, a doctor’s office (no hospital), and up on the left there was a three way stop. To the north about two miles was the local drive-in something that this town took great pride in. To the west and east were houses scattered across the landscape, ranging from small shacks with outhouses to huge dollhouses right out of a magazine. A person would have to admit that this town was the ideal, off the wall, picture post card. Something you would send your old aunt Gracie who carried hundred watt hearing aids, but managed somehow to say, “What was that dear?” You could just hear her high-pitched voice say in the most over exaggerated way, “Isn’t the town in that post card just darling.” All Krista could think was getting to Cynthia’s house for that hot shower and that several day sleep.



As Krista pulled into the long driveway she began to wonder why Cynthia had asked her to come for Christmas. They had been best friends throughout high school, but had lost touch when college came around. They managed to send cards on birthdays and holidays, but neither of them had bothered to get together in over 15 years. She just couldn’t figure out why Cynthia had called her now at one of the worst times in her life and invited her to do some girl bonding. She placed her foot lightly on the brake and placed the car in park. She turned the key and felt the motor die under her fingertips. Krista opened her car door and gazed at the house she saw before her. “Boy, oh boy did Cyn come into the money or what?” Krista thought to herself as she was getting her luggage out of the trunk. The house was beautiful on the outside, and Krista could only imagine how much grander it was on the inside.

The exterior of the house was a sweet baby blue color; it was two stories and the roof arched into a great point. Two chimneys extended on both sides of the house.
“Fireplaces in this town, what a joke!” A porch wrapped around the house like a bow on a present. The porch was painted white to match the white shudders and white window boxes. The house was set on a picture perfect landscape. Cynthia had told Krista that they had 45 acres, but she never said how beautiful. Trees wrapped the house like a blanket, and extended on past the house as far as the eye could see. Just along side of the house were a cleared field and a barn. Krista couldn’t wait to see the rest of the property. It might just inspire her to write again. Just then Cynthia bounded out from the door and rand down the steps. “Krista, I’m so glad you could come, here let me help you with those bags.”
“Wow, Cyn you look great, this country air must be doing wonders for your skin.”
“Thanks come on in the house. I have some hot chocolate and fresh baked cookies on the table. I can’t wait to catch up on old times. The kids are finishing up there last day of school, and Tom is working in the field so we won’t be bothered.”
“Great, but did you say HOT chocolate, do you have any idea how hot it is?”
Cynthia laughed, “Of course I do, but it’s a lot different inside.”
The two old friends, with Krista’s bags in hand, traveled into the house and into another world.



The house was more beautiful on the inside than Krista could ever imagine. Oak and cherry were throughout the house. A winding staircase took you to four cozy bedrooms, a playroom for the kids, and two and a half bathrooms. There was a basement with Tom’s study, and a storage room bigger than Krista’s apartment. The first floor however was the real eye pleaser. The kitchen walls were painted a pale peach. White counter tops with little peaches hand painted on them allowed the whole room to come alive. It had all the trimmings to boot, including two convection ovens. Two other rooms were on the first floor that didn’t get much use, a formal dining room done in royal purple, and an odds and ends room in pearl white.

The true treasure of the house was the den. It made you feel like you were in another world. The walls were draped in a dark green, which allowed the rich wood to jump out at you. Family portraits and do-dad’s covered the walls. Two dark couches were placed opposite of each other in the center of the room. A small nook revealed a reading chair worn on the arm rest from hours and hours of traveling to distant lands. 12-foot ceilings made the room feel amazing. A fireplace covered an entire wall. “That is the biggest fireplace I have ever seen in my life,” Krista said wide-eyed.
“Yes, we had it custom made. We can build a fire in it later. I have one more place to show you before we go get that hot chocolate and cookies,” Cynthia said with a bright smile.

Krista began to think that her friend had completely lost her marbles. All this talk about hot chocolate and fires, but as she walked to view the next part of the house Krista felt something weird. It was the cozy feeling you get after being outside in the freezing snow all day, and you’ve come in to cover up with your favorite blanket. How could this be?

This final stop proved to be the most rewarding. It was a beautiful glassed in porch which overlooked an amazing lake. Krista guessed at least 500ft in diameter. The pines, willows, and oaks hovered over the water, as if protecting it from harm. Their reflections danced on its smooth body. Krista knew she could stay here forever.
“Well, it’s time to get you settled in. The kids will be home soon, and I know we won’t be able to do a thing once they’re here.”
So Krista and Cynthia headed back into the house for some hot chocolate and cookies, and though Krista didn’t know it yet, a vacation that would change her life.



The heart of the town was just as intricate in detail as Tom and Cynthia had made their home, and the town’s people seemed to bubble over with excitement about the holiday season. They almost floated over the beautiful cobblestone streets of the town nodding and saying, “A Merry Christmas to you, may God keep and bless you and your family,” to everyone they met. The spirit of Christmas was well imbedded in each person’s heart here in Summerton. The more that Krista walked the streets, and looked in the quaint little shops all filled with endless treasures the more she found herself humming a little hum, and skipping a little skip, and smiling when someone offered her their holiday greeting. She felt alive. Secretly in her room she had begun writing again feeling the tingle of the words jumping from her pen onto the paper. She had to admit she was becoming less of a scrooge and beginning to enjoy Christmas.

Tom, Cynthia, and the kids treated her like a part of the family. Including her on every adventure they took. The finding of the most perfect tree in the woods, bringing it back home to decorate with strung popcorn and overly exaggerated colored lights, to the daily joy of washing dishes. Krista never complained but did these things with joy and satisfaction in her heart. The days were sewn together with laugher and joy like the marshmallows atop a sweet potato soufflé all smashed and melted together.

The place that she enjoyed going to most was the Christmas Shop. The shop wasn’t nestled amongst the cobbles and bustles but rested on a hill overlooking the town. It sat proudly like a beacon of hope for those in the town. The Christmas Shop looked like an old wooden cabin. Large round logs made up the structure, hand made windows fit snuggly in the wood becoming giant kaleidoscopes that sent rainbows shooting and spinning everywhere with dizzying enjoyment. A fire was always burning in the fireplace which made the shop feel cozy instead of unbearably hot due to the temperature outside. The smells of pine, warm gingerbread, and homemade apple cider wafted through the shops four walls filling your mind with memories of Christmas’s past. Hand made ornaments hung on a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It all took you back to a more simple and peaceful time. Krista’s favorite thing to do was to get a big piece of gingerbread and a glass of apple cider find a comfortable corner table and people watch, especially children.

The expression in a little girl’s eyes when she found the perfect dolly, holding it ever so delicately in her arms, whispering into its ear, “Oh little doll I’m going to ask Santa Claus for you, and you can come live with me and I’ll dress you in find clothes and I’ll call you Molly. There, there Molly you’ll be safe here.” With a wink and a nod she carefully places the doll back in her place and latches onto her Mama’s hand traveling off to another land with Molly not to far away from her thoughts. Or the young boy who has been transported to the Wild West by a red cowboy hat and a wooden gun. “Pow! Pow!” escapes his lips as he aims his gun at the bank robber or the kidnapper and imagines himself the hero. Blowing onto the still smoking gun, he is brought back to reality when his Daddy says, “Johnny put the toys away, it’s time to go.” Johnny slowly puts the wooden gun back where he found it, and before putting the hat back where it belongs rubs it and thinks, “Someday!”

Krista also loved it in the evening time when very few people were there and she could look through the different treasures casually. The more time that she spent at the shop the more she began to feel that there was something more than the clutter and twinkle. There was something magical contained within these four walls. The elderly shop owners, Mitch and Hedda, without Krista knowing, watched her as she rummaged through the Christmas things, and casually they would wink at one another.


Time flew by for Krista in a sweet mysteriously glorious whirlwind, and before she knew it her eyes opened up to Christmas Eve. She awoke with a tingle from head to toe and what felt like a chill. She shrugged it off to excitement and lazily got out of bed to take a shower. The temperature had gradually decreased throughout Krista’s stay, but it was hardly winter, more like a cool spring. When Krista stepped out of the shower, however, the shock of cold air hit her and gooseflesh welled up across her body. She peaked out of the bathroom window and saw a haze begin to cover the beautiful blue sky. She had the strange sense that the haze was announcing clouds in the afternoon forecast, snow clouds. The smell of bacon, eggs, biscuits, honey and hot rich coffee quickly took her mind off the cold and haze. She hurried to get dressed and down stairs to quiet her grumbling tummy.

Christopher and Madeline were jumping off the walls singing a made up song about Christmas Eve, “Christmas Eve is here what joy what joy, Santa’s bringing toys.” Tom and Cynthia sat back watching the two children with smiles on their faces, holding hands, as Tom gently stroked Cynthia’s lower neck. Krista felt a longing well up in her along with fear that she may never have a family of her own. She had to fight back the tears with a big smile and a loud, “Good Morning and Merry Christmas Eve!”
“Good Morning and Merry Christmas Eve Auntie Krista!” Christopher and Madeline said with gleeful giggles and more enthusiasm than a mall Santa Claus. They jumped up, one taking each of Krista’s hands, and dragged her to a kitchen chair.

After breakfast Tom took the kids ice-skating. The sounds of caroling were heard coming from the car as Cynthia and Krista waved good-bye. Then, it was back inside for dish duty. Cynthia and Krista talked over dirty dishes, dish soap, and scalding water. They reminisced about old times. Never had either of the women talked so freely and openly with one another. They ended up spending the rest of the morning with tissues, memories, pain, joy, and promises that they wouldn’t wait this long again to see each other.


Tom, a little frazzled, brought the kids back late that morning and went up to take a nap. Cynthia and Krista spent the rest of the afternoon baking for the “Big Event” that evening. After baking, the women decided to go out on the porch to gaze at the beautiful lake and relax for a couple of hours. The now bitter wind required them to take blankets to snuggle in. As they casually chatted Cynthia’s eyes became heavy and her replies to Krista were becoming the quiet dreamy “Hmmm’s”. Before Krista knew it her friend was sleeping and she was left alone with her thoughts. As the sun slowly sank behind the horizon clouds began to dot the purple-pink sky. The sky became thick with clouds, and the sun sank into its resting place with a great sigh as if it knew its job was complete. Krista wrapped herself tightly in the warm folds of the patchwork of memories and fabric.


Krista did not know what made her leave her best friend in dreamland to venture out into the cold, but as she walked on the cobblestone streets she felt a purpose in her heart which pushed her forward in the chill of the night. She was sure that she was supposed to do something, but unsure of what it was. Suddenly, the Christmas Shop came into view and the warmth of the building came calling to her like a Mother calling her children for supper. She picked up the pace and before she realized it she was running to the door. She expected to see tones of people bustling with energy in the shop with a tingle of anticipation of tonight’s events on each one of their faces, but it was if someone had yelled fire. There wasn’t a sole in site, not even the shopkeepers. Krista began to strum her fingers across the artifacts of the store as she had done so many evening before. Feeling the texture of each little treasure and breathing in deep the rich smells of the store. She leafed through Christmas books, jingled bells, examined ornaments, and as she was picking up a hand made stocking she discovered a small box with a Christmas tag on it. Curiosity got the best of her and she picked the box up and looked at the tag. With a little shock she read the name on the tag again, “Krista.” She couldn’t believe it. Mitch and Hedda must have gotten her a gift and accidentally left it in the shop. She hesitated for a second, but then overcome with the urge, went in search of something to open the box. It took her a while but finally she ran across a hammer underneath the counter. Using the back of it she pried the top off the wooden box. Shredded paper used for packing material covered the mysterious contents within the box. Krista gently parted the material and reached in with the excitement and fear of a kid with his hand in a candy jar.

Krista sat in the floor of the Christmas shop looking at the beautiful snow globe while tears streamed freely down her face. Within the snow globe, carved in great detail, was the town. Everything was the same except for the Christmas Shop and what was in its place left Krista speechless. It baffled her and a great feeling welled up in her that was far more powerful than she had ever felt or ever imagined she could feel. She kept repeating over and over, “I’d forgotten, oh how I’d forgotten.” Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder and swirled around with a start. The four gentle eyes of Mitch and Hedda gazed at her. Mitch and Hedda helped Krista to her feet and led her out of the shop. Hedda whispered in her ear, “You don’t want to miss this.” She gently wiped tears from Krista’s face. Krista took a deep breath and managed a weak smile.

Krista let Mitch and Hedda guide her into the woods behind the Christmas Shop. They traveled along a weather warn path for about a half a mile and then the trees began to step back making way for the travelers. Before Krista’s eyes was a great clearing shaped in a circle. All the towns people had gathered and were beginning to join hands when the three arrived. Mitch and Hedda led Krista to Tom, Cynthia, and the kids. Krista grasped Cynthia’s hand forming another link in the man made chain. Cynthia squeezed it and smiled a reassuring smile. The next several hours were stirred together with Christmas songs, shared memories of Christmas’s past, a message of hope from each person there, and finally ended with a beautiful prayer. It seemed like only moments had gone by instead of hours and Krista was saddened when the chain began to break and people began to journey back through the woods. Then Krista felt something cold and damp on her cheek. Her eyes looked up and a gasp of air slipped between her teeth. It was snowing. Great big beautiful flakes were falling to the ground. All of them with their own character and style. She was almost knocked off her feet as Christopher and Madeline began pulling and tugging her back through the woods. Her numb feet finally began to move with a little forced effort and soon she was walking silently among the trees and the winter wonderland that was magically forming before her eyes. As they once again approached the clearing of the trees more than a half a foot of snow had fallen. It was impossible but it was real. Clearing the last set of trees Krista’s legs failed her and she fell to the ground at the site before her. She began to cry uncontrollably. Cynthia came and sat next to her. Hugging Krista tight she said, “It’s okay let it all out.” Tom scooped the kids up and they quietly walked away from the two women. Before Krista’s eyes was what she had seen in the snow globe. The clouds rolled back and underneath a bright beautiful star stood a stable. In the stable were horses, pigs, oxen, and in the center kneeled a young man and woman over a manger. In the manager slept the most magnificently beautiful child. As the words crossed her lips she knew why these individuals in Summerton were so filled with joy at Christmas. It wasn’t the presents, the lights, and all the bustle. They had never forgotten the true meaning of Christmas…

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good tidings of great joy that will be for all people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you, he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign unto you: you will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will to all men.” – Luke 2:9-14

Krista had forgotten the most important gift. She found the true meaning of Christmas in a small town with good people and amazing friends. She would never forget again.

Miracles do happen!

Dear Kristen,

High rate material. Most definitely Harrington material. Meet me in my office Monday 8am to go over the details. Great to have you back kid. – Fredrick

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Christ is reborn each time someone receives Him as their personal Savior. We carry the meaning of his birth, life, death, and resurrection each day as Christian’s. We are, in many ways, the visual representation of His existence. We don’t need a visual to remind us what He had done for us and the magnitude of what His birth entailed. We should keep Christmas in our hearts year round. He is a gift to wonderful not to share this holiday season.

A Tiny Miracle

Each year around Christmas I would write a Christmas story that I would pass out to family and friends. I have just recently gotten back into this tradition. I would like to share with you the second Christmas story I ever wrote. While not the best, it still holds importance of the season in my heart...I hope you enjoy...

Four-year-old Sally Marie waited patiently for the snow to come. The smell of gingerbread filled every cranny of that festive little house on the corner of Weston Street. Mamma placed the last gooey batch of gingerbread men into the oven and tiptoed quietly into the den to see if that inquisitive and brilliant little girl of hers had seen any Christmas flakes fall.

The den was trimmed in tinsel and white lights. A comfortable fire burned in the fireplace, and a highly over-decorated tree stood proudly in the right corner of the room. In the opposite corner sat the most beautiful girl ever. Massive auburn ringlets covered every inch of her head. Freckles kissed her face, while her deep green eyes leaped with youthfulness. Red overalls and a clean white shirt, and matching tennis shoes adorned this God made ornament.

“Any snow yet,” Mamma said softly being sure not to startle her daughter. “No Mamma, but it will be here soon I can feel it in my fingers and toes,” exclaimed Sally Marie never allowing her eyes to stray from the window. The tiniest most unique snowflake slowly fell from the gray puffy sky. “IT’S SNOWING! IT’S SNOWING!” little Sally Marie dashed to the front door, flung it open, and ran out into the front yard. “Sally get back in this house and put a coat on,” said Mamma as she ran outside, coat in hand, and placed it around the jubilant shoulders of her excited child.

The snow fell all through the night, clinging to everything it touched. Sally ate three gingerbread men and fell fast asleep in her bed, which as she put it, was filled with angel feathers. “The best darn bed ever, God made it special for me,” Sally Marie would say. Mamma stayed up for Pappa, watching the snow play the ground like a grand piano. The door flew open and in stepped Pappa. The Christmas lights danced in the tiny melted snowflakes on his jacket. “Any news,” Mamma asked sweetly.
“No dear nothing new. Everyone always says the same thing we just can’t use you right now.”
“Something will show up soon. The Lord will take care of us,” Mamma said cheerfully as she placed Pappa’s faded coat and worn out boots in the closet. “Things will look better in the morning.”

This small little family on the corner of Weston Street had love and not much else. Pappa lost his job a little over seven months ago, and had been searching for work ever since. Now it was Christmas and still no income. It didn’t look like they were going to have a Christmas at all. Still there was very little complaining in that family. Everyone was grateful for what they had. Mamma was grateful that she had a ham to prepare, the little house of there’s, and most important Pappa and Sally Marie. Pappa was thankful that they still had a roof over their heads, and that his family stood by him. Little Sally Marie was most proud of her bed to sleep on, and the little doll that her great grandmother gave her. You never would know that this family was in need, but they were and in a very bad way. Pappa didn’t know how much longer they would be able to keep that roof over their heads.
The days came and went and soon it was Christmas Eve. Mamma sat on the corner of her bed crying. Sally Marie slowly turned the knob with her chubby little fingers, and walked in to console her hurt Mamma. “Don’t cry Mamma, don’t cry,” she said placing those little fingers on Mamma’s back. “Oh my sweet Sally Marie I will be okay, thank you for checking up on me.” What Mamma hadn’t told her little girl or Pappa is that she was pregnant. How could this have happened when there wasn’t enough food or money to take care of three people much less a hungry growing baby?

Pappa came home late that night, and Mamma waited up to tell him the news. Through their tears they vowed to work something out, and this would be a joyous time. Then Pappa pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper from his pocket. He gently unwrapped the small object with his large hands so Mamma could see what he got their daughter for Christmas. It was a crystal star ornament that shimmered in the brilliant firelight. “She’ll love it,” Mamma said with a sigh. They knew that they had each other and that was all. With the bills pilling up it was very likely that they soon would find themselves homeless with no where to go.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door. At first Pappa thought it was the wind, but it came again a small ‘rap-tap-tap’. He went to the door and there were a group of carolers singing ‘Silent Night’. Pappa and Mamma thanked them, and asked if they would like to come in out of the cold. They gladly obliged. “How did you find this place,” Pappa said knowing that the corner of Weston Street was far from town, and way out of the carolers’ way. “She said that we had very important business here, and what we needed to do.” At that moment he pulled out a small package and asked Mamma to peak inside. “Sugar,” she exclaimed. “Thank you sir so much.” One by one the others began taking their treasure out of their bags and coats, potatoes, cured meat, bread, milk, cheese, water and the list goes on and on. Tears were streaming down Mamma’s face as her and Pappa thanked each one. “Tonight you will be greeted by several people led by God to bless your Christmas and give them something that have been missing in theirs for a long time,” the leader of the choir said as he shook Pappa’s hand. “Good night and God bless.”

Sure enough many visits followed. People brought clothes for Mamma, Pappa, Sally Marie, and the new baby, which no one could have known about in town. They also brought new shoes and warm blankets. One man brought enough money to pay for the bills that had been pilling up. Mamma and Pappa could not believe their eyes as people gave all through the night.

As the sun began to break with its splendor that Christmas morn a small still voice began to sing, “Silent Night, Holy Night, all is calm all is bright.” “Sally Marie,” Mamma said with delight, “is that you come and see what the Lord has brought.” Mamma looked about her. She found the blankets, the clothes for her, Pappa and the new baby, but where in the world were Sally Marie’s things. She looked on the tree to see if the star was still there. She sat down with a fright as she saw the tiny star shine with the brilliance of the sun. “Pappa wake up,” Mamma said pushing on Pappa’s shoulder. “What is it?” Pappa said with a yawn. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet. “Look at the tree,” Mamma said. “I think you might want to look at our daughter first,” Pappa exclaimed. “Sally Marie, what on earth…” Mamma never got her word out. Sally Marie stood in front of her parents shining brighter than the sun or the star ornament. “Sally?” Pappa questioned. “Yes,” Sally said most pleased with the reaction. “What’s going on?” Mamma said tears welling up in her eyes. “I am an angel,” Sally Marie said.
“No you are not, you are our daughter!”
“No, I’m and angel sent to guide those to you during this difficult time, and to help prepare for the blessing that God has given you.”

Pappa found Sally Marie abandoned in the old shed past the river on Christmas Eve four years ago. When Pappa brought the little bundle home Mamma leaped with joy and knew that this was the best gift ever. From that moment they raised her as their own, loving and adoring her. It amazed both Pappa and Mamma at how smart their little girl was, and they knew that she was going to grow into a fine young woman one day.

“It was all planned,” Sally said with those big green eyes gleaming. “I was placed in the shed for a reason. I watched over you and guided you just as you guided me.”
“This can’t be true,” Mamma said. “I want my little girl back.”
“I will always consider you my Mamma, and you my Pappa. If I could have had parents you would be the ones I would have hoped for, but now I have a more important task at hand. Hold out your hand.”
Mamma did as the angel she once called her beloved daughter asked. Sally Marie placed a tiny box in her Mamma’s hand. Then she leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You are to have a son and his name will be called James. When James turns four year old let him open this box with love from the Lord up above, me, and you and Pappa.” With that Sally Marie gave both her parents a kiss. “I will watch over you, but most important remember the Savior born on this day is watching you and guiding you. Pappa ask Mr. Nelson again, this time he will say yes.” In an instant the girl they had called their own was gone. Both cried and held each other tight.

The months passed and Pappa had been working for Mr. Nelson for a while when he got a call that Mamma was having her baby. James Nathaniel was born and all of Heaven rejoiced. As he grew he became the apple of his parent’s eye and to the Lord up above.


Gingerbread once again filled every cranny of that festive little house on the corner of Weston Street. Mamma asked James if he had seen any Christmas flakes yet. “No Mamma, but it will be here soon I can feel it in my fingers and my toes.” James’s face was plastered to the window. “Fingers and toes,” Mamma thought. That night as Pappa read a story to James, Mamma went into the den and said, “James I have a present for you.” “On Christmas Eve,” James said with delight.” “Yes dear.” Pappa and Mamma watched carefully as their beautiful son opened the tiny box, inside was a tiny snow globe. Inside the snow globe was that cozy little house on the corner of Weston Street. Hovering over the top of the house was the most gorgeous angel you have ever seen. James shook the tiny globe and a snowstorm appeared. In the bottom of the box was a note.

‘To James:
All my love,
your angel Sally Marie
and your Savior, Jesus.’

“This is the best gift ever,” James said. Tears flowing, Mamma told James to get his coat on. “Why?” James asked with confusion. “Well, if you want to play in the snow you have to put on a coat first.” James jumped to his feet and ran to the window. Sheets of snow were bunching up in piles all about the ground. “IT’S SNOWING! IT’S SNOWING!” James screamed with delight.

Pappa and Mamma smiled at their son playing in the snow. In the distance came a chorus of familiar voices singing ‘Silent Night’. The carolers that came that first Christmas Eve had been coming every Christmas since. “She was the most beautiful little angel ever, with auburn ringlets stuck out all over her head,” the leader of the choir would say thinking fondly on that night a miracle happened.


Many years later that same snow globe given to a young boy sat at the desk of a faithful and loving Pastor who shepherded his flock with the love of Jesus in his heart.

Dear Michael Landon Jr.,

Dear Mr. Landon,

I feel this letter needs to be met with some form of perfection, which it will never be. I suppose I should begin at the beginning. I was a fan of your Dad’s, still am in fact. I wasn’t around when “Little House on the Prairie” was actually on the air, after all I wasn’t born until 1980, but I have watched the re-runs of the show ever since I can remember. In fact I cannot remember a time when I haven’t watched them. Melissa Gilbert quickly became my hero and remains an amazing center point of my life today, and I believed if I wished hard enough I could actually become Laura Ingalls Wilder. It has given me a great love for the old west and has fueled a passion in me for quality family television and my desire to be a part of that in some way. I used to always think that I wanted to be a Producer, Director, Actor in this field one day. God has had me take some steps back and humbled me into allowing Him to work in my life.

I can remember the first time I saw the trailer for “Love Comes Softly” on the Hallmark Channel. My heart caught in my chest and, just like so often in my life, I reverted to an eight year old child, clapping my hands in delight, jumping up and down, and squealing with delight. I only wish that I was kidding. This would not be the last time I would revert to childhood concerning what I like to affectionately call the “Love…” movies. I remember watching it for the first time with butterflies in my stomach and a flutter in my chest. I closely watched both the artwork of the camera movements and the story. I think one of the most visually beautiful pieces of camera work in the film is when Marty finds Aaron’s horse and goes out to get him, falls to her knees and the snow begins to fall around her. It is so beautiful and heartbreaking. I also loved your choice of getting in as close to Katherine Heigl’s face the morning of her husband’s funeral. It was a heartbreaking scene and you felt cramped in her space forced to feel the emotions with her. The story itself was simple, beautiful, and such a true representation of faith in God. It also was a hilarious movie. I loved when Clark found Marty in the bath. I still laugh out loud over that scene. I still to this day think of what Clark told Marty about God and why bad things happen. I keep that in mind and often share it with others.

Still, it amazes me how God’s timing is always so specific. I didn’t know that you were a Christian at that time and maybe if I had looked at it a little closer I would have been able to see that. I just thought you were a man living out your Father’s Legacy and I was so proud at the storyteller that you had become.

I think I still remember the actual feeling of seeing the trailer for “Love’s Enduring Promise”. It was almost too much, and I found myself flipping the TV to the Hallmark Channel when commercials would come on to see if I could catch the trailer again. I was so full up I could hardly stand it. I truly fell in love with the young man Willie LaHaye and I was so proud that the role of Clark wasn’t watered down, but brought out even more. What a true and complete man of God you have created from Janette’s character, and what an amazing job Dale Midkiff does in playing him.

By the time the third movie came out I was beside myself. I love how you infused Clark into the movie with the letter writing between him and Marty. The humor in this one was fantastic. I loved the cowhands and found a special connection with the former preacher character of Henry. James Tupper has such a range and depth with this character. I’m so glad to see him back in “Love’s Abiding Joy”.

With the joy I found in the three films I chose to go out and buy all eight books in two box sets. I guess it helped to be working at a bookstore at that time. However, I hadn’t picked them up until I was finished reading the “Mark of the Lion” series by Francine Rivers, which I guess was about six to eight months ago. I was glad to see the similarities and differences from film to book. You can’t recreate a book onto the screen in the way that those reading the book have envisioned, but I found myself still seeing the same integrity and depth that Janette Oke’s characters have as well as an easy well adjusted transition to the television screen. I had no idea in my watching and reading that it had taken you 10 years to get “Love Comes Softly” made.

So, now we are pretty much up to today. I was flipping through a Family Christian Store catalog when I saw the full page add for “Love’s Abiding Joy”. I screamed so loud my Mother asked what was wrong with me. And yes, I did more jumping up and down, called my sisters to share the good news, and quickly went to look for a theater near me. You see I have gone through some big changes in my life as of late. I had been out of college for about two years, had just quit my job to pursue my then dream of moving to Asheville, NC and hopefully one day moving towards having my own production company. My thought as always was that things would fit perfectly in their own little spot and that I would be moved, happy, and on the straight and narrow. The straight and narrow has many twists and turns and God wants all of us, not just the parts we are willing to share with Him. I have now been out of work over three months. Praise God for a Mother and Father who love and support me and allow me to continue to live under their roof at 26. For the first time in my life I’m learning to lean on Him completely and I know that there is a plan, just not sure what it is. I have quit striving so much for what I want, and have tried to ask again and again and again what He wants. I’m scared, unsure, and in a true place for surrender in the first time in my life. Oh sure, been in the pity pool, felt like the world was crashing down around me, but I know without a doubt that I will rise up to meet that horizon.

So, needless to say, when I saw this movie was coming out it was something I could latch onto. I had actually just finished “Love’s Long Journey” in book form and was just getting ready to begin “Love’s Abiding Joy”. I proceeded to spend the day before I was going to see “Love’s Abiding Joy” watching all three of the previous films which of course I own on DVD. The next day I was all beside myself with excitement. I got on “MySpace” and started looking up video clips from the movie, found some great behind the scenes clips, and proceeded to email and inform everyone who read my blog to go and try to see this movie. In my searching I found an article you had done for one of the Christian magazines. Still not knowing you were a believer I was intrigued that you would be doing an article with such a magazine. As I began to read the article I just began to weep. I read how you became a Christian, how you felt when you first read “Love Comes Softly”, your journey in your faith, your devotion to not only do things that speak of your faith, but that you would never do anything that would contradict your faith. Your marriage and your three children. I just started praising Jesus. Praising Him for what He had done in your life. How he had used the horrific circumstances in your life to bring you to Him. I realized in that moment that you were doing far more than living out your Father’s Legacy. You were living in freedom from all the sin and heartache beginning way back in your Father’s childhood and you were living THE FATHER’S Legacy.

In that moment, and being able to see the wonderful movie “Love’s Abiding Joy” on the big screen, not to mention seeing that you have directed “The Last Sin Eater” (Francine Rivers is my favorite author, always hoped that her books could be made into film!)…God said, “Melissa, something is coming for you! Trust me!” It has been a turning point in my heart, and I hold onto that promise when things seem impossible and frustrating.

Thank you for living your life so authentically…it is my hope that I can do the same one day. Thank you for living for Jesus in the simple and honest way of storytelling that you bring to so many. I truly believe these are stories that will resonate with all people, from all faiths, and will witness to those brokenhearted and those that feel alone. There truly is a time for every season…

Michael Landon, Jr. I hope that if you, by some chance or miracle, do read this letter that you do not find me a lunatic. I am actually quite normal, but extremely passionate. I also just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your journey and love for the Lord with so many. God has filled my cup to overflowing with the art you create and I pray that He does the same for you in your life’s endeavors. God bless you and keep you and your family. I will keep you all in my thoughts and prayers.



In Love’s Abiding Joy,

Melissa