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The War Cry | DECEMBER 2012
she'd inherited. At 13 she was already developing a
crusty shell. But did that haunted look behind the
painted eyes betray a longing for a place to be the
child she was?
When Lara took her upstairs, they stopped on
the threshold of the bedroom. "I think you'll be com-
fortable here."
Shannon's shoulders stiffened. Her eyes roamed
over the white quilt, the pink curtains and carpet,
the bookcase filled with Kira's favorites. "Whose room
is this?" she asked in a first attempt at conversation.
"My daughter's," Lara said in a whisper, surprising
herself. She meant to say, "It's the guest room." She
snapped on the light. Shannon's eyes, Lara saw now,
were actually blue--midnight blue. Was she a blonde
under all that red dye?
"Will she mind if I use it?"
"Nope," Lara said, matter�of�factly, and turned to
go. "You might have to share it with Beau, however. He
sort of thinks it's his." She tried a smile, swallowed and
tasted again Kira's absence.
Don't fall apart now, she
told herself. She told herself. "Come down in an hour
or so. We have a Christmas party to get ready for."
S
ome kids never get a break, Lexi had told
her, filling her in on Shannon's short 13
years. She'd lived dirt poor with parents,
who had been killed while driving drunk.
Since then she'd flunked out of seventh
grade twice and been caught shoplifting.
Lara had resurrected the tree and Christmas
boxes from the basement when Shannon came down-
stairs precisely an hour later. Beau ambled behind
her with more agility than his arthritic hip usually
allowed. Lara held up a tangled string of bulbs. "How
are you at lights?"
Shannon's tight lips had relaxed a bit. She looked
around, patting Beau absently as she took in the
Christmas tree and the chaos of boxes. She shrugged
but held out her hands and began to help Lara extri-
cate the bulbs from the maze of cords.
They didn't talk much as they trimmed the ever-
green boughs, but Lara felt herself begin to relax
too. They stopped once for hot chocolate and listened
in silence to carols from the television special in
progress. When the tree was done, one box remained.
"What's in that one?" Shannon asked as though
sorry there was nothing left to do.
"Well, let's see." Lara reached for the final carton.
"By the way, you did a good job. The tree looks great."
Hesitantly, she pulled back tissue to reveal the cr�che
she knew would be there. Subconsciously, she had
avoided it. Setting it up had always been Kira's job.
Her pulse quickened as she unwrapped the first figure.
"Who's that?" Shannon asked.
Didn't everyone recognize the kindly Joseph with
staff in hand? "It's Joseph, and here's Mary. Our
church has a big manger scene, but we have a smaller
model." She pulled out the stable, brushed off excess
straw and, after setting it on a low table by the fire-
place began handing the figures to Shannon.
"We never had one of these," Shannon said a bit
wistfully.
"And here's the baby Jesus. We don't want to forget
Him. He's what Christmas is all about."
"We didn't go to church," Shannon said. She was
experimenting with shepherds and angels, obviously
unsure of their placement. "Why are the figures all
kneeling?" she asked.
Was it possible that this child had lived 13 years
without knowing anything about God? Lara's pastor
had said that many children of the present genera-
tion did not even know the simple chorus "Jesus
Loves Me." Lara felt something stir inside her.
"They're kneeling in worship because Jesus is God's
Son who came to earth to die for our sins..."
Shannon's face registered perplexity. Then those
midnight blue eyes were staring into Lara's. "Your
daughter's dead, isn't she?"
It was like being slapped. Lara stared back. Some-
how Shannon had known.
"My mom and dad are dead too," she said flatly.
Suddenly the bravado was gone. Her eyes filled with
tears. "I'll never see them again," she whispered.
"Oh, but you can see them again...in Heaven," Lara
said, drawing an arm around Shannon's thin shoulders.
"That's why Jesus came..." How to explain...
Lara felt the tears sting as she told the age�old,
wonder�filled story. Shannon may never have heard
how Jesus loved her. Thirteen years not knowing!
But she, Lara, had lived these months since Kira's
death as though she didn't know Jesus either. In her
sorrow she had turned away from the source of life
and joy and hope.
Strains of "O Come, All Ye Faithful" echoed from
the television. Lara's tears overflowed as Christmas
gently returned to her heart.
Lt. Colonel Marlene Chase, whose last appointment
was as Editor�in�Chief and National Literary
Secretary, lives in retirement in Rockford, IL.
The War Cry | DECEMBER 2012
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