Christmas Stories You'll Love by Editors of Adams Media

Author:Editors of Adams Media [Media, Editors of Adams]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: stories, Christmas, Holidays
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2011-11-21T08:00:00+00:00

The Reluctant Caroler

By Teresa Olive

“OH, COME ON, HONEY. It’ll be fun,” my husband, Jeff, pleaded.

“Yeah, Mommy, please go caroling with us,” my three young daughters chimed in.

I stared gloomily out the window at the pouring rain. It was a miserable night, even for western Washington. Then I looked at my family’s expectant faces.

“Oh, all right,” I growled. “Maybe we can sing ‘I’m Dreaming of a Dry Christmas.’”

Jeff hugged me, undaunted by my lack of enthusiasm. I felt more like staying home with Scrooge than caroling in the rain with our Bible study group. Directing two Christmas musicals on top of an endless round of shopping, programs, and parties had given me a bad case of the “bah humbug’s.”

By the time we met our group at a nearby trailer court, the rain was mixed with sleet. I gritted my teeth as the wind whipped the icy fragments into my face. No one else seemed to notice the weather, though, as they all called out cheery greetings to us.

We sloshed up to a brightly lit trailer, singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” The door opened a crack, but no one came out on the covered deck. Then, as we turned to leave, a silver-haired lady peeked out.

“Thanks for the carols,” she said. “My neighbor was robbed last week, and I’m afraid to come out after dark.”

The lady at the next trailer had no such apprehensions. She braved the freezing rain to applaud enthusiastically after each song. Afterward, she insisted we all come inside for cocoa and cookies. She seemed oblivious to the gallons of water we dripped on her floor. Her eyes were glued on the children as they gobbled down cookies. Her face glowed with pride as she showed us pictures of her own faraway grandkids.

By the time we left, I felt warmer in more ways than one.

We had started to pass by the next darkened trailer, when someone in our group called out, “Wait! I think I see Christmas lights inside.”

We began singing “Silent Night,” softly, in case the residents were asleep. The outside light came on, and an elderly man stepped out onto the covered porch to listen. I thought I saw tears glistening on his cheeks.

When the song ended, there was silence for a second. Then the man said, “That was beautiful. I wish my wife could hear you. She loves carols, but she — ” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “She’s got cancer and can’t come out.”

We stood stunned for a moment. Then someone suggested, “Why don’t we try singing up on the porch?”

The man smiled for the first time — a little-boy grin that lit up his face. “Oh, that would be great! I’ll leave the door open and go listen with her.”

Somehow we all managed to cram onto the tiny porch. We sang “O Holy Night” through the open front door. Luciano Pavarotti would have cringed at some of the sour notes, but we didn’t care. We were singing for the audience behind the door and for the audience above the rain clouds.

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