The Christmas Victory (Gift Edition) A Gem of a Sermon, All Wrapped Up In a Historical Novel

 So Charles went and sat down in the living room and reached for the family Bible which lay under a pile of dust on one of the living room tables.   The other children came downstairs one by one and sat expectantly waiting for the opening of the presents.  Charles sighed and told them “I think he wants to be left alone.  He's in one of his moods.   We can open the presents later—before lunch.  Why don't you go out and play now?”

             Alice Mary sighed and said, “I wonder if Father is going to be like this forever.”

             “Yes,” agreed little Edith.  “Will it ever really be Christmas again?”

             Charles sighed.  “We just have to give him some time.”

             “Time?” asked Ernest.  “But it's been over three years since mother died.”

             “I know,” agreed Charles.  “Some things take longer with some people.”

             By now, the children had taken their winter coats, scarfs, hats and ear muffs from the hall closet and were bundling up to go out and play in the snow.  Edith looked at Charles and asked, “Won't you come out and play with us too, Charles?”

             “Ah, no thank you,” he replied.   “You go on.   I think I'll just sit here and read the Bible.”

 *******

             Henry sat in quiet contemplation for a while, staring at Fanny's picture which stood before him on the desk.  

             Just then, the church bells began to chime.  At first, he regarded their ringing as an unwelcome interruption to his reverie and tried putting on ear muffs to deaden the sound.   But then it seemed as if, in some sort of belfry conspiracy, more and more bells began to chime—bells from other churches—from all the churches in the area.  They kept on ringing.  The tunes they played were all the old familiar Christmas carols he had heard from his youth.  But as they kept pealing, one phrase, from his conversation with Charles, kept going over and over in his mind: Peace on earth, goodwill to men,  Peace on earth, goodwill to men.      He removed the ear muffs and listened pensively to the lilting melodies of the bells pealing out the message of peace.  He reached for his pen and began to write. 

 I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

             With each passing moment, it seemed as if more bells had joined the chorus.   He continued to write:

  I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

             But, he thought, catching himself, what am I writing this for?   How can there be peace on earth when this war is dragging on?    He felt more strongly now the despair he had been feeling over Fanny's death, Charles’s injury and the war in general.  Why had this war even started in the first place?     It was all the fault of those slave owners in the south, he thought.  He placed the ear muffs back on his ears and picked up his pen again. In anger and sarcasm he wrote the following verse:

 Then from each black accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

             He realized that he was fortunate to have Charles back alive.  But what, he thought, of all the other families that lost sons and brothers in the war?   He took up his pen again and wrote.

 It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

             He bowed his head in despair.   His own despair seemed to multiply as he thought of the many families who had lost loved ones to the war, and then of his own loss of Fanny and of Charles' terrible injury.  He again took up his pen and wrote:

 And in despair I bowed my head:

"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

 He put down his pen and rested his head on his arms on the desk.  It's no use, he thought.  I can't publish a poem that ends like that and right now I can't imagine any other ending.   He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the wastebasket beside his desk.

             But just then the newsboy's bell was also heard, mingling with the sound of the church bells.  Then the sound of the newsboy's voice was heard above the pealing of the bells, shouting out the headlines:  “Union forces make great advances.   Read all about it.”  

             In the living room, Charles threw down the Bible, grabbed his overcoat from the closet and ran out and bought a paper from the lad.  Upon returning he decided to share the news with his father.  Entering Henry's study, he said excitedly “Did you hear that news Father?   There are great union advances.  Why, the war may be over sooner than we think.”

             “Let me see that, Son.”   Henry almost tore the paper from his son's hand.    He then slumped down again into his easy chair with the paper in hand and read slowly.   In a little while, he raised his head out of the paper again and said with a slight smile, “Well, things do look somewhat hopeful, don't they, Son?”

             “I'd say more than somewhat.  With first Lincoln’s re-election and now this news--I think it's a portent, Father.   This civil war will soon be over.  I think it's time you ended your personal war also, Father.”

             Henry frowned.  “That’ll be enough Son!   I thank you for sharing with me the good news about the war.  It is encouraging, but then, why did it even have to start in the first place?   Where was God when it started?   I'd just like to be left alone now, Son.”

             “Alright, Father.”   Charles went back to the living room again and reached once more for the family Bible, which was now on the floor where it had fallen when he went to get the paper.

             Again Henry sat staring blankly at Fanny's picture.  Then he thought, Perhaps Charles is right.  At any rate, it’s great that things look hopeful on the National front.  But how can I forget Fanny's death and Charles' serious injury?   Surely God could have prevented these things if he wanted to.

             Meanwhile, the ever-deepening pealing of the bells was heard by the children as they played noisily in the snow, drowning out their screams and squeals of delight.   To them, the bells said, “Christmas is here—enjoy it.”   And they did. 

                                           Source Pixabay

          The sun kept rising higher and higher in the sky, sending its streaming rays of sunlight through Henry's study window.