.
…Mrs Christian slipped on a patch of ice and Mr Christian caught her by the hand to steady her. Together they climbed slick steps over the wall toward the home of Father Christmas, abandoning the narrow way…
On the far side of the steps, from their new point of view, she saw that the home of Father Christmas was a great and beautiful inn. With its shutters open and lights in the windows, it looked like an enormous Advent Calendar that had come to life. Laughter and music resounded on the frosty air.
Mrs C put her arm through her husband’s, and they crossed the wide, neatly shoveled and salted walk to the door. She was thinking about past Christmases, about family times and comforts, and the children’s innocent delight in the holiday.
She also remembered the sadness. For Christmas was only a winter bloom, its scent intoxicating but quickly fading. People spoke about the magic of the season, and yes, it did have a kind of magic, and so like others she longed for it. But she knew that she would be left with nothing for it always failed to keep its promise of lasting joy.
Something slipped out of Mr C’s pocket. Crouching he retrieved a tattered Book. Mrs C bit her lip as she watched him slip it back in his pocket, then they walked on.
Lost in her thoughts again, she heard her husband scolding someone – childish voices mingled with his gruff but kindly tones. The two soon were surrounded by urchins, wan faces and pinched faces, imploring ones, resigned ones. Small hands were held up, palms open. Tears streaked dirty faces.
“We need it more than you!” the lad Want said.
Greed tried to force her hand into Mrs C’s pocket, “Give it here!”
“Can you spare just a little?” the girl True Need asked.
Other pilgrims were making their way to Father Christmas’s home. All but one child hurried away to beg from them. True Need put her hand into Mrs C’s and looked up with love and longing. Mrs C smiled at True Need, and Mr C swung the sweet child up onto his shoulder. Together the three entered the cheerful residence…
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Reblogged this on Talmidimblogging.
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Thank you, brother!
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You’re very welcome Sister 😇
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This is on par with Little Pilgrim’s Progress! Have you read it? I found it online years ago but now I can’t seem to find it. I love how you write!
Have a blessed day, Maria! \o/
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Sherry, thanks, sister! I will go look for this book. Writing fiction sometimes surprises writers. The urchins showed up. :0)
Have a blessed day too!!!
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I am not a writer but I have dabbled with it and I agree with you! The story tends toward a life of its own. God be praised when it is Him doing the steering!
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Sherry, here is a link to this retelling of Pilgrim’s Progress:
https://thebereancall.com/products/little-pilgrims-progress
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Yes! But I had read it online through a website that had posted it. Its not there anymore. This is worth the read, though, and meant for children, too! I’m a kid at heart, I guess. 🙂
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Sorry I couldn’t find it, Sherry! Children’s books are some of the best!
A very serious kid at heart!
:0)
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Sherry, the next part is scheduled to be posted at 1:00 a.m.
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yay! \o/
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hope you like it, Sherry! If so, then…
\o/
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Yes, God be praised!
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Sherry, do you share your creative writing with friends?
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No. But I did have a poem published years ago. If I can find the certificate and poem I’ll pass it on to you. I think it was a sham because you had to buy the book in order to see your writings published and the price was through the roof! I also had some writings that my high school creative writing teacher had published in her book-a rough booklet, actually, that contained all of her students writings. My mother had my poem Winter is the Mother of Spring, framed but a fire destroyed it and I have no copy! I’ve also published a couple of poems on an old WP blog but I can’t remember which ones now. Anyway, if I run across them I’ll send a few your way if want to read them. I don’t promise they are worth the read, tho!
Have a blessed night, sis! \o/
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Perhaps you will write something new…? :0) I’d love to see anything you run across. That is neat, that your Mother had this poem framed!
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