The Christmas package

By NAN BROWN
As published Dec. 17, 2008

[A note from Nan: This year instead of writing about Christmases past and present in my life, I decided to try my hand at composing a story for the season. I hope you enjoy it.]

Kayla Woodward awoke with a start. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but even in that short amount of time she sensed something was wrong, somehow different. She could make out the sleeping form of her older sister Tara on the other side of the bed.

As she threw her covers back, Kayla became aware of the coldness of the room. She suspected that Tara must have come home from work too tired to stoke the fire in the woodstove before collapsing into bed.

As Kayla crossed the room to add some wood to the fire, the events from earlier in the day flashed through her mind. While walking down the street, an old woman had come into view out of the corner of her eye. Laden with several brightly wrapped Christmas packages the woman stepped off the curb and took a nasty fall on the icy pavement.

Kayla ran to the woman, helped her to her feet and asked if she was okay. The woman assured her in a curt tone that she was fine. The nastiness of the woman’s voice caused Kayla to take a closer look at her. Her features were quite severe and the scowl on her face only added to her angry demeanor. Kayla introduced herself and asked if she could help in any other way, and the woman said no and proceeded down the street.

Kayla called after her, “God Bless you. Have a Merry Christmas,” but her remarks were not even acknowledged. Kayla thought the encounter she had just experienced was rather strange. Here it was just a week before Christmas and the woman apparently celebrated the holiday due to the fact she was carrying wrapped Christmas gifts, but she definitely didn’t seem to be in a holiday spirit.

Kayla’s attention quickly returned to the present time as a burning ember from the woodstove popped out and almost hit her on the foot. She quickly took the small shovel next to the stove and returned the stray ember, remembering this time to close the stove’s door.

The same uneasy feeling she experienced when she first woke up returned and stayed with her the remainder of the day. It had something to do with the encounter with the old woman. Somehow she seemed strangely familiar.

For the next two days, Kayla went through her usual routine of attending classes at the local college, volunteering at church and working at the restaurant. Tara worked with Kayla but between the two of them they barely earned enough to pay the rent and utilities. Their Christmas would be meager again this year.

Three days before Christmas, Kayla picked up a daily newspaper. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to do so because the price of a paper was a luxury she just couldn’t afford. While leafing through it an obituary that contained a picture caught her eye. The photo was of the old woman she encountered four days earlier.

Kayla felt an unexplained sense of sadness, after all she didn’t know the woman, but the details of the life she read about touched her. The woman’s name was Margaret “Maggie” McKenzie and she was 82 years old. She was the president of a well-known company in the area and was still actively involved in the business.

The obituary also revealed her philanthropic side. Over the years she had given away hundreds of thousands of dollars to various charities always without fanfare or a desire for recognition.

Kayla couldn’t help but wonder why the woman was so mean spirited toward her the day of their encounter, but upon reading the obituary further she understood why. Five years earlier the woman had been predeceased by her husband, son, daughter-in-law and grandson who had been killed in a car accident on Christmas Day.

Kayla couldn’t even imagine that kind of heartbreak. She wept for the woman’s loss and understood Mrs. McKenzie’s frame of mind that day, just a week before Christmas.

She couldn’t get Maggie McKenzie out of her mind. Christmas Eve arrived and Kayla had just returned home when there was a knock at the door. She went to answer it, but no one was there. Something shiny sitting on the porch by the door caught her eye. It was a brightly wrapped Christmas gift on top of which was a card addressed to her.

Kayla couldn’t imagine who could have left the present for her. She took it inside and opened the card. The shaky handwriting was barely legible but Kayla was able to make it out. It read: “You probably won’t remember me, but I am the woman you assisted the other day. I’m sorry I wasn’t very pleasant to you, but this time of year is very difficult for me for I lost my family in a car accident five years ago Christmas Day.”

It continued, “For a very long time now I’ve felt God abandoned me as everyone I cared about and everything I lived for perished that day. It was your kind deed and caring words that made me realize there is still good in this world. You may have thought otherwise that day, but I did hear what you said to me as I was walking away. The very fact that a complete stranger would wish me God’s blessings and a Merry Christmas touched me deeply.”

The note concluded: “Inside the box is something that has been handed down through three generations of my family. It is for you, and I know you will put it to good use. It is because of you that I felt a glimmer of hope and God’s love this Christmas season.”

Kayla opened the box and inside was a Bible. It was obviously old because its leather cover was cracked in places and the pages were a bit yellow, but it was evident it had been well-used over the years. She opened the Bible and inside the front cover was Maggie’s family history. She turned one more page and gasped at what she saw. Inside was a check for $5,000 made out to her signed by Maggie McKenzie.

Kayla couldn’t believe the kindness and generosity that had been bestowed upon her by a stranger. She rushed out to the bank before it closed to cash the check.

On Christmas morning Kayla went to church to celebrate the birth of our Savior. Later when the church treasurer was counting the contents of the collection plate that was passed Christmas morning, he came across a blank envelope. Inside was $5,000 in cash. It was given without fanfare or a desire for recognition.

God Bless you all. Have a Merry Christmas.

Stomach of steel

By NAN BROWN
As published Dec. 3, 2008

We have a problem on our hands – our 7-year-old Jack Russell Terrorist (it’s not a typo, I do mean terrorist and not terrier) named Cody. I’ve written about his escapades before – like the time when he was two years old that he had to have emergency surgery to remove something lodged in his stomach.

When the vet showed us the object we had no idea where Cody might have gotten it – it was a piece of green plastic with some fabric attached. It was an expensive mystery object though since the vet’s bill cost us $1,200.

Then there was the time when he tore up our kitchen floor. Whenever we went out we put him in a free-standing pen that sat directly on the floor. It kept him confined so he couldn’t get into any mischief, or so we thought.

Needless to say it didn’t work because he somehow got a small piece of the vinyl flooring loose and then ripped it off in shreds until he had torn a hole in the floor the size of a basketball.

Thankfully the builder left an extra piece of flooring, so we called the company that installed the floor when the house was built and a repairman was able to fix the hole for us.

Cody has been behaving himself for a few years, at least until lately. He’s been so good that we don’t even confine him anymore when we leave the house. He’s had no more emergency surgeries, although he does have a skin condition that costs us a pretty penny to treat on a regular basis with medicated shampoo and a special spray.

We don’t know what has possessed him all of a sudden to start chewing up and eating weird stuff again. There have been two instances recently.

We had taken Riley, our Cocker Spaniel to the vet for his shots. While there the vet discovered he had an ear infection so she prescribed drops we had to put in his ears twice daily and supplied us with a syringe with a fitting on the end that would go into the bottle of drops so we could extract the proper dosage. There was even a little plastic tab on it to mark the level of the dosage.

We went to use the syringe to put drops in Riley’s ears the next morning and we couldn’t find it. We searched high and low with no luck. I called the vet’s office and Jack went to pick up a couple of spares. When he returned we used the drops.

Jack went outside to mow the front yard and I was sitting in our family room with all three of our dogs when I noticed something in Cody’s mouth. It was the syringe we had just used. I started hollering for Jack, and thankfully he was still in the garage and heard me, so he came in and distracted Cody with a treat so he would drop the syringe.

Jack then noticed something on the carpet of the family room we had not seen before – a couple of mangled pieces of plastic that had been chewed extensively along with the dosage marker tab which was barely recognizable. To make a long story short, Cody was obviously the culprit in the case of the missing syringe.

We began worrying that we’d have to take him to an emergency vet clinic if he started showing signs of distress. He didn’t, thank heavens, so Jack had to be on “poop patrol” and found that Cody eventually passed pieces of the syringe and its plunger.

Cody’s second offense was even more bizarre. Our friend Pat who lives in Mt. Airy came to visit us and while the three of us went out to breakfast that Saturday morning, Cody got hold of a cardboard box containing a metal tube of prescription ointment that I have to use from time to time.

When we returned home Jack and Pat discovered small shards of lightweight metal on the family room carpet. I happened to notice that my ointment was gone, box and all, and so was the cap to the tube as well as the ointment. Thankfully, though, the tube didn’t have much left in it.

So we were on pins and needles again hoping he wouldn’t get sick. He didn’t. We had to laugh though because he usually incessantly scratches himself due to his skin condition. He didn’t scratch for the next few days – so we came to the conclusion it must have been the ointment working from the inside out.

Apparently Cody must have a stomach of steel. If he keeps this up, we may need to call Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer – and maybe another surgeon.