A Rocky Mountain Christmas

Becky made no response.

“Mrs. Daniels, you have been sitting in that same position for ever so long,” Jenny said. “Why don’t you let me sit there and hold your little girl’s head in my lap while you get a little rest?”

“Oh, thank you, dear. That would be wonderful . . . if you are sure you don’t mind.”

“No ma’am. I don’t mind at all.” Jenny changed places with Millie, and put Becky’s head in her lap.

“I’m going to hold you for a while now, Becky, while your mama gets a little rest. I hope you don’t mind.” Jenny looked down and smiled at the girl but got no reaction. Concerned, she put her hand on the child’s forehead and found her burning with a very high fever.

Dear Lord, Jenny prayed silently. I haven’t always led the life I should, and I know I have no right to ask you for anything. But maybe since I’m not asking for anything for myself you will hear this prayer. Please, Lord, don’t let this innocent child die. It’s nearly Christmas. Please send her the Christmas gift of life. Amen.

“How many more days until Christmas?” Jenny heard Timmy ask.

“Christmas is in two days,” Timmy’s mother answered.

“I’ll be glad when it’s Christmas,” Timmy’s younger sister Molly said. “Won’t you be glad when it’s Christmas, Mama?”

“Yes, dear,” Clara replied quietly. “I’ll be glad when it’s Christmas.”

“Will we still be on this train at Christmas?” Timmy asked.

“I don’t know,” Clara answered.

“Can Santa Claus find us if we are still on the train?” Molly asked.

“If he can’t find us on the train, he will find us as soon as we get home.”

“This isn’t like Christmas,” Timmy declared. “We don’t have a Christmas tree. We don’t have any cookies. It’s nothing like Christmas.”

“Oh, but we have snow,” Jenny said. “And every Christmas should have snow. Think of all the boys and girls who live way down south and have no snow at all.”

Luke laughed. “You are quite a woman, Jenny, to find a bright side to the snow.”

“Well, without snow, how would Santa Claus land his sleigh?” Jenny asked. “His reindeer, Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen need snow.”

“How do you know the names of Santa Claus’s reindeer?” Steven asked.

“Why, from the poem ‘A Visit From St. Nicholas,’” Jenny said. “Have you never heard that poem?”

“No, ma’am, I ain’t never heard it,” Steven said.

“I’ve never heard it either,” Molly said.

“Why, that is such a wonderful poem for children. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steven nodded.

“Me, too,” Timmy said. “Do you know the poem?”

“Oh, yes, I know it. It was written by a man named Clement Moore for his children. Why don’t all of you gather round, and I’ll tell you the poem. And maybe Becky can hear it, too.”

“Becky is very sick,” Molly said somberly.

“Yes, dear, I know she is. But sometimes you can hear things, even when you are too sick to talk. I think Becky will be able to hear it. And I think she will feel better on Christmas Day.”

Timmy and his two sisters, as well as Barbara and Steven, gathered around Jenny and Becky. Seeing all the eager young faces made Jenny feel good, and she could almost believe she was teaching a class again.

Smiling, Jenny began to recite the poem.

“’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.”

“St. Nicholas? Who is that?” Timmy asked.

“That’s Santa Claus’s real name,” Barbara said. “Isn’t it, Mrs. McCoy?”

“Indeed it is,” Jenny said. Then she continued.

“The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.”

“St. Nick. That’s Santa Claus!” Steven exclaimed.

“That’s Santa Claus all right,” Jenny said. She continued reciting the poem.

“More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

‘Now Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!’

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.