A Miracle at Christmas

 Louise LeBaron Harmon

Christmas was almost here! Great flakes had frosted our little Canadian town in marshmallow icing that glittered now in sunlight like a tinseled fairyland. It looked just like the Christmas tree at school, I thought. My eyes had never feasted on such a radiant tree as that.

“If only our family had a tree-like that one at school,” I exclaimed to Mama. She always said trees were hard to come by on the prairie.

“Well, Sister, would you really mind if Daddy couldn’t get a tree this year? Couldn’t we celebrate Christmas just as well without one?” she asked.

“Not have a tree!” I cried. “Why even the Japanese immigrants have one.”

That night I ran to meet Daddy and beg him for a tree. He smiled and said, “We’ve never let you kiddies down yet, have we?”

With that, I was content to wait and see. We put our stockings on the homemade cardboard fireplace Daddy had built, helped clean the house, and finished hanging our red and green paper chains and made our traditional decorations. Then on Christmas Eve, shadows began to gather us into excitement of that hallowed night. When Daddy finally came home from work, his big arms were empty – not even a pine branch! Tears stung my eyes in disbelief.

All my little brothers came trooping into the living room for Home Evening at the sound of “Jingle Bells” which Mama was pounding out on the piano. I looked longingly into the empty corner. How could Daddy let us down?

The evening passed, prayers were said and Mama tucked us into bed as she sang, “Sleep in heavenly peace,” and with heavy heart, I did. It was a bit comforting to remember that Jesus never had a tree either.

In the early dawn, I flew out of bed as shouts rand out from my little brothers, “We have a Christmas tree! A tree! Come look at our tree!” Wonder and delight filled my soul as I saw presents heaped on the table under the generous branches of our tree. Our Father had not let us down!

Much later we came to realize that the tree was our dear father’s own creation. A teacher at the school had heard we were unable to buy a tree that year, and late on Christmas Eve had given the branches trimmed from the tall tree at school to him. After drilling holes in a small pole, Father had carefully fitted and nailed each branch into place, and a tree was born. That tree, viewed through the eyes of love and faith, became the most beautiful unforgettable tree in all this world to four small children on a wind-swept prairie many years ago.