"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Isaiah 9:6
Rarely did Santa bring her what she wanted for
Christmas, but one Christmas he did.
Elsie and her sister Connie grew up the daughters of a
dirt-poor farmer who attempted to eke out a living from sandy soil in South
Carolina's Low Country. By the time her father died, he had made a name for
himself in the community and accumulated enough land and money to be considered
well off. But Elsie had left home long before and knew nothing of the wealth
growing up that her parents experienced later in life. Even in their later
years-when they could have lived more comfortably-they lived as if they had
little. Never a new car or truck. Never a new tractor or combine. Just the same
old farm house Elsie had grown up in with no central air or heat. Not even a
window air conditioning unit. Just one lonely gas heater in the kitchen and an
even smaller one in the bathroom.
Even though she never got what she wanted the most for
Christmas, this special day was the highlight of young Elsie's life. Her parents
and older sister were members of a small white Methodist church nestled in a
grove of pine trees not quite two miles from their home. A church where the men
sat on one side and the women on the other-a tradition Elsie never understand
but one that continued long past the time when it had ended in other
churches-and where an enormous pot belly stove bellowed red hot heat from the
center aisle.
Sundays found her entire family gathering with other
folks from the community to thank God for his blessings-as small as they might
seem. When Elsie became a teenager, she played the piano at the little
church-something the elderly folks remembered for years in the future. At the
moment, however, she was just the younger daughter of Daniel and Maggie Martin-a
farmer who had lived on one of the tributaries of the Santee River and had
recently joined the community.
Elsie's father repeatedly reminded her and her sister
how lean times were. In fact, it seemed that's all he talked about. She wondered
whether there were any years that weren't lean. Surely, there must have been,
but the family never heard about abundance-only poverty. Until one Christmas
arrived that was different from any she had experienced before. One that made
her feel like a rich person's daughter.
Every Christmas, Elsie's family gathered with other
families from the community and converged on the little white church to wait for
Santa's arrival. Elsie, along with the other children, eagerly awaited the
opportunity to sit on his bulging round lap and tell him what they wanted for
Christmas-even though she never really believed she would get it. Year after
year, her Christmas wish was the same: she wanted a baby doll. All her friends
had at least one. She couldn't understand why her father couldn't scrape
together enough money at least one year to get her one too. So this particular
year, Elsie told Santa what she had told him numerous times before.
"What's your name little girl," Santa would whisper.
"Elsie," she excitedly uttered.
"And what would you like Santa to bring you for
Christmas?"
"Santa, I want a baby doll. Could you please bring me
one? All my friends have one, and I want one too."
"Have you been a good little girl?" Santa queried.
"Oh yes," Elsie chimed.
And comparatively, she had been good. Especially when
she compared herself to her older sister. Elsie couldn't wait to get in the bed
Christmas Eve. Surely this would be the year Santa would grant the wish she had
made so many times before. It must have been one of the bountiful years her
father never mentioned. Or perhaps her mother had saved enough money from the
fish she sold to the neighbors. But how it happened or why wasn't important.
When the first rays of daylight peeked through her bedroom window, Elsie jumped
up and made her way to the Christmas tree. As she looked around, there it was. A
box that seemed the right size for a baby doll wrapped in paper a poor farmer's
wife would use.
After receiving her mother's permission, she tore into
the paper and ripped open the box. She could hardly believe what she saw. Santa
had granted her wish. A beautiful small baby doll lay quietly in the box. A doll
baby of her own. It was all she had ever wanted but never received. She couldn't
wait to play with it. Why not turn the box into a stroller, she imagined. Since
Santa had delivered the doll, she could engineer the stroller. And she did.
After carefully cutting two holes in the box, she inserted a cord and instantly
she had a stroller. It was the only year Elsie ever received a doll baby.
When Elsie was seventeen, she married my father just
prior to his being shipped overseas to Taiwan. Though Elsie didn't receive but
one doll growing up, Daddy and all three of Elsie's boys made sure she had all
she wanted later in her life. Daddy began the tradition of giving her a doll for
Christmas every year, and the rest of the family followed suit.
Elsie is now a senior adult, but one thing she doesn't
lack is baby dolls. She has a corner curio brimming with them, and they also
lounge in her bedroom and living room. In fact, Elsie has so many that one year
no one gave her any. We figured she had enough-more than enough to make up for
all the ones she never received growing up.
Just as one doll baby made a tremendous difference in
my mother's life, so did a real child that was born to Mary and Joseph. He too
brought joy. To shepherds living in the fields, wise men living afar, and to
people worldwide. For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The
government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful
Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6 NLT).
Elsie's young life was changed by one doll's
appearance, and Jesus' birth has changed the lives of millions of people and
continues to do so. He was God's ultimate Christmas present to the world, and he
would later give his life to purchase the salvation of that same world. So never
underestimate the potential of even the smallest of gifts. God didn't.
Martin Wiles mandmwiles@gmail.com
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