From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Tales of Christmas
By David H. Vaughn
I've seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives.
~Tracy Chapman
When I first received my driver's license, I was willing to do anything to spend time alone behind the wheel — even if it was my mom's yellow station wagon with fake wood paneling! Some of those early desperation "get out of the house" excursions were to deliver hot meals through a program at our church to those who were shut in their homes due to age or declining health.
At first it was about completing the task as efficiently as possible in order to get back to driving. Knock on the door, deliver the food, and jump back in the driver's seat. One of the widows that a friend and I regularly took meals to was Mrs. Miller. Her bathrobe was the only attire I ever saw her wear and her Poodle yapped incessantly at us. After months of standing at her door and resisting her regular invitations to come in and talk, we overcame our initial hesitations and went in. Over time we developed an odd friendship with her. Her hospitality was always limited to a meager offering of cookies that were frozen as hard as rocks. The early stages of dementia that she was experiencing caused our conversations to consist mainly of volleying the same questions to her over and over again and receiving the same answers back every time. But somehow we became attached to her and looked forward to our visits.
By David H. Vaughn
I've seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives.
~Tracy Chapman
When I first received my driver's license, I was willing to do anything to spend time alone behind the wheel — even if it was my mom's yellow station wagon with fake wood paneling! Some of those early desperation "get out of the house" excursions were to deliver hot meals through a program at our church to those who were shut in their homes due to age or declining health.
At first it was about completing the task as efficiently as possible in order to get back to driving. Knock on the door, deliver the food, and jump back in the driver's seat. One of the widows that a friend and I regularly took meals to was Mrs. Miller. Her bathrobe was the only attire I ever saw her wear and her Poodle yapped incessantly at us. After months of standing at her door and resisting her regular invitations to come in and talk, we overcame our initial hesitations and went in. Over time we developed an odd friendship with her. Her hospitality was always limited to a meager offering of cookies that were frozen as hard as rocks. The early stages of dementia that she was experiencing caused our conversations to consist mainly of volleying the same questions to her over and over again and receiving the same answers back every time. But somehow we became attached to her and looked forward to our visits.
A year or two later, my friend and I both left town to attend college. When we came home for the holidays, we just had to go visit Mrs. Miller. During one of our attempts at conversation, we asked, "Are you planning to have a Christmas tree this year?" She surprised us by answering "No." Unsure of whether she was fully aware of the question, we moved on to other topics. Later we asked her again, "Are you planning to have a Christmas tree this year?" Again, she surprised us by answering "No." We looked at each other and knew what had to be done. It was only two days until Christmas, so we sprang into action.
We made arrangements to drive to a friend's farm in the Tennessee countryside the next day, which was Christmas Eve, to cut down a Christmas tree for Mrs. Miller. It was a picturesque, postcard kind of morning with a light snow melting in the sunshine. We wandered up and down the hills looking for the perfect tree to cut down. We felt very masculine toting the small hatchet and some rope over our shoulders through the underbrush, surely in much the same way the rugged pioneers of the land would have done it!
After a few hours our initial adrenaline waned and we became irritated with each other. We were hungry and cold. We had argued over and over again what the perfect tree was for Mrs. Miller. Finally we compromised, made a selection and commenced with the hacking. It was no small feat for two college boys who had never used an axe before! However, once the mighty timber was felled, we dragged it through the woods and put it on top of the car (yes, I think it was the same yellow station wagon with the wood paneling). We drove back, two men on a mission — to give Mrs. Miller the perfect Christmas tree and to get away from each other!
We were still hungry but now we were not speaking to each other. We roared into the driveway, not sure how our great intentions had gone so wrong. We wrestled the tree and nearly each other in through her front door but we got the tree standing up. Finally, there we stood, admiring our handiwork and both supremely pleased with our efforts. Our hearts softening a little, we thought maybe all this work had been worth it. It was at this very moment we realized that we had failed to get any decorations for the Christmas tree. Our frustration had almost calmed, but now it flared again. With it now being late on Christmas Eve, we knew it would be impossible to get anything together in time.
We had failed to complete our task. We were not giving Mrs. Miller the Christmas tree we had planned and our friendship had been strained as well. What a great Christmas Eve this was turning out to be! As we plopped down exhausted onto the couch, still not speaking to each other, Mrs. Miller's face lit up and she pointed to the hallway closet. We shrugged our shoulders, wondering if she even understood what we had gone through or even what we had tried to do for her. Her eyes lit up and she walked over and opened the closet door. Not knowing what else to do, we both wandered over to look in and then could not believe our eyes.
More Christmas tree ornaments than you would believe! There were hundreds of ornaments — all hanging on the artificial Christmas tree that had been used the year before! I didn't know exactly how to feel but we both slowly reached for an ornament to pull off the tree in the closet. We both burst out laughing as we put them on our tree in the living room. It took hours to decorate the tree — not because it should have, but because we could not stop laughing. We joyfully chomped on frozen cookies, enjoyed the Poodle's yapping, and decorated Mrs. Miller's perfect Christmas tree!
We made arrangements to drive to a friend's farm in the Tennessee countryside the next day, which was Christmas Eve, to cut down a Christmas tree for Mrs. Miller. It was a picturesque, postcard kind of morning with a light snow melting in the sunshine. We wandered up and down the hills looking for the perfect tree to cut down. We felt very masculine toting the small hatchet and some rope over our shoulders through the underbrush, surely in much the same way the rugged pioneers of the land would have done it!
After a few hours our initial adrenaline waned and we became irritated with each other. We were hungry and cold. We had argued over and over again what the perfect tree was for Mrs. Miller. Finally we compromised, made a selection and commenced with the hacking. It was no small feat for two college boys who had never used an axe before! However, once the mighty timber was felled, we dragged it through the woods and put it on top of the car (yes, I think it was the same yellow station wagon with the wood paneling). We drove back, two men on a mission — to give Mrs. Miller the perfect Christmas tree and to get away from each other!
We were still hungry but now we were not speaking to each other. We roared into the driveway, not sure how our great intentions had gone so wrong. We wrestled the tree and nearly each other in through her front door but we got the tree standing up. Finally, there we stood, admiring our handiwork and both supremely pleased with our efforts. Our hearts softening a little, we thought maybe all this work had been worth it. It was at this very moment we realized that we had failed to get any decorations for the Christmas tree. Our frustration had almost calmed, but now it flared again. With it now being late on Christmas Eve, we knew it would be impossible to get anything together in time.
We had failed to complete our task. We were not giving Mrs. Miller the Christmas tree we had planned and our friendship had been strained as well. What a great Christmas Eve this was turning out to be! As we plopped down exhausted onto the couch, still not speaking to each other, Mrs. Miller's face lit up and she pointed to the hallway closet. We shrugged our shoulders, wondering if she even understood what we had gone through or even what we had tried to do for her. Her eyes lit up and she walked over and opened the closet door. Not knowing what else to do, we both wandered over to look in and then could not believe our eyes.
More Christmas tree ornaments than you would believe! There were hundreds of ornaments — all hanging on the artificial Christmas tree that had been used the year before! I didn't know exactly how to feel but we both slowly reached for an ornament to pull off the tree in the closet. We both burst out laughing as we put them on our tree in the living room. It took hours to decorate the tree — not because it should have, but because we could not stop laughing. We joyfully chomped on frozen cookies, enjoyed the Poodle's yapping, and decorated Mrs. Miller's perfect Christmas tree!
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