How can one visit alleviate the trials of the past few years? How can one quilt reveal truths never before realized?
It had to be a dream…
Her grandparents passed away a few years earlier, but here in the family kitchen on the dawn of Christmas morning, they greet her with the same love and sage advice she grew up with. Their presence captivates reality and brings Ivy to complete confusion.
Could this strange visit truly be the provision for which Ivy longed?
Christmas Ivy
The sizzle of bacon cooking brought Ivy to an upright position out of sound sleep. The smoky flavor tantalized her nostrils as the fog in her mind slowly lifted. Her hands flew to her face. It’s Christmas! The words rose within her, not with joy, but with panic. How could she have slept so late!? Mama will have my head. I should be making breakfast. But wait. It’s Christmas! Mama must have let me sleep. A wonderful gift, to sleep past dawn. Ivy heard a gentle snoring and looked to see the cat curled next to her legs.
“Silly girl.” Ivy reached down and ran her fingers through Tilly’s long fur. “You should have wakened me. How can you still be sleeping?” Ruffling the fur of the gentle calico had no effect. The cat did not stir. Ivy listened for her younger brother and sisters. Panic began to rise within her again. Every muscle tightened. She heard nothing. They must all be downstairs eating breakast.
She forced her legs to swing away from the warmth of bed and cat and put her feet onto the cold hardwood floor. Why hadn’t she asked for a rug for Christmas? Maybe someday. Things would be better one day. Forgive me, God. I’m so selfish. And now I’ve overslept.
Ivy tiptoed over to the twins’ bed to confirm that she alone was foolish enough to sleep in on Christmas morning. Sure enough, the quilt was piled up. In the dim light, she gently fingered the stitching and pattern that her grandmother had so lovingly designed and woven into the covering. Ivy so wished it was hers, but the twins, Jenny and Jessica, needed it because they needed the bigger bed. Ivy often longed to crawl in with them just so she could feel Grandma’s love held within the quilt’s craftmanship. Grandma was about to make Ivy a quilt for her smaller bed when she had taken ill and passed away.
Tears welled up in her eyes. Grandma’s death ushered in her family’s hard times. Such an emptiness engulfed her the day Grandma died. That tiny woman personified strength to Ivy. No matter what, calm wisdom exuded from her. A better friend, Ivy knew she would never find. The following year when Grandpa died, Ivy lost a part of herself. Mama assured her he died of a broken heart, missing his dear wife. Ivy wondered if she could recover from her own broken heart. The family barely had time to grieve, for then Papa’s store burned to the ground. Gone. Everything gone. Since then, life was survival, just making ends meet. Ivy again squelched the constant question of ‘Why, God?’ Apparently, God had no plans to answer.
Ivy pressed the back of her hands to her eyes to stop the flow of tears when she saw the quilt move. The twins were still in bed. Maybe it wasn’t so late. She shook Jessica’s shoulder. A slight moan escaped from under the quilt, and a spray of blonde hair followed it. The little form shifted and went still. Ivy shook her again. “It’s Christmas,” she whispered as loudly as she could.