A Christmas Eve Miracle



  A Christmas Eve Miracle

  Copyright 2011 by

  Timothy W. Ayers

  Dedication: To all the Sunday School kids at First Baptist Church of East Aurora who suffered through my numerous Children's Sermons and to my Grandsons who listen to my stories even when they aren’t very good.

  Timothy Ayers

  230 Teakwood Rd.

  Butler, PA 16001

  [email protected]

  Chapter 1

  “I want to sing tenor,” little Judachew said.

  “Yeah, tenor fifteen miles out of town,” joked Shane.

  “I’m sure that Eve laughed when Adam first used that joke on her. You need some new jokes, Shane. Besides you can laugh all you want. I will someday sing tenor on Christmas Eve. Wait and see,” Judachew remarked as he whipped his tail around and headed along the thin path that ran between the outside and the inside walls of the church.

  It was bad enough that he was born with an extra long neck that made other mice pick on him but to have his dream ridiculed was beyond what he could endure. His long neck was a curse and a blessing. Judachew didn’t look like any of the other mice and that meant that bullies picked on him before anyone else in a crowd of rodents. On the other paw, his long neck allowed him to make the same word sounds that the big people used who worked, prayed and sang within the church. In other words, he could talk like the big people only not as loud. To some it seemed like a squeak but if one listened very hard, with their ear down to the mouse hole then that person could hear the mumblings of a frustrated little long necked mouse.

  Not many big people did that. Most yelled eek and ran from the room or jumped on tables when he went by. The angry ones chased him with a broom swatting the wooden floor behind him. Actually only one big person ever listened at Judachew’s hole to the world. It seemed though that she was a lot smaller than the rest of the big people and today she was back. Judachew heard her mother’s voice talking to the weary, old pastor who kept the doors open to the church and at times, quite clumsily, would drop large pieces of bread, cheese or cake on the floor in his study or the kitchen.

  All the mice liked Pastor Goodbook. Not many took a chance and scurried along the floor in front of him but the few who did found his spirit kind and his cake crumbs most delicious. Whenever one of his friends ran along the wall or the across the center of the room to get to the other side Pastor Goodbook would remark, “All are welcome in the house of the Lord.”

  Judachew chanced to put his little eye at his entrance to the big people’s world just as a large piece of bleu cheese fell only a leg’s reach from his hole. He was in bleu cheese heaven. Judachew was ready to break into the song “Bleu Christmas” when he heard the woman snap out a question.

  “Alexa, what are you doing?” the woman’s voice questioned sternly. Judachew recognized it as the mother of the small big person.

  “I brought some cheese for my friend that lives in the wall,” Alexa said as calmly as can be in her sweet and innocent child voice.

  “Don’t feed the mice,” the mother bellowed.

  Judachew was trying to yell back, “Yes, you can feed the mice anytime you want” but the words didn’t come out very clearly. His mouth was full of bleu cheese and both of his little fists were poised and full of more cheese. It went down like bleu velvet.

  “It’s alright, Mrs. Bailey. Everyone’s welcome in the house of the Lord,” Pastor Goodbook stated in a calm and pleasant voice. There was always something reassuring about that statement to the mouse colony dwelling inside the walls of the church.

  “I don’t want her encouraging rodents to live in the church walls. They are destructive and dirty. We should have them exterminated. Now, let’s get back to our discussion about the Christmas Eve service. We really need it to be good this year. People have come from all around our little village of East Aurora to hear our choir and to hear your wife’s quite marvelous rendition of ‘Oh, Holy Night.’ By the way, how is Mrs. Goodbook feeling? I know this is a very trying time for you,” Mrs. Bailey inquired.

  Judachew stopped gulping down bleu cheese the moment he heard the mention of Mrs. Goodbook. For all of Judachew’s life she would walk across the lawn from the parsonage and bring the pastor his lunch right at noon. They would sit and talk. He would go over his sermon ideas. She was very kind to him about his sermon titles because Judachew thought they were corny. He would have told the old pastor that but not Mrs. Goodbook. She nodded her head and would tell him that anytime someone spoke about the Bible it was good.

  Judachew’s favorite part of the day was when Mrs. Goodbook would go into the sanctuary, sit at the piano and sing. She had the voice of an angel or at least what Judachew believed an angel would sound like if he ever heard one sing. For the last month Mrs. Goodbook had not come into the church. She had not sung in the choir or sat in a pew. Judachew was hoping that Mrs. Bailey was going to say what had happened to her.

  “Yes, my wife’s illness will put a damper on our Christmas Eve service. She has already said how much she will miss singing in your choir, Mrs. Bailey, and of course singing ‘Oh, Holy Night,’" Pastor Goodbook answered with a deep sadness and a lot of concern ringing through in his voice. It sounded like his words were muffled by something and the sadness in his tone almost made Judachew cry. So sad was his voice that Judachew had to see what was wrong with his old friend. He crept to the mouse hole and started to poke his head out when a large brown eye greeted him only a few inches away.

  “Oh, mercy me,” Judachew yelled as loud as his long necked voice would allow. The eye pulled back quickly.

  “Mom, the mouse spoke to me. I think I scared him and he said ‘oh mercy me.’ Isn’t this wonderful?” Alexa chirped at her mother in an excited little girl voice.

  “Alexa, I told you to stay away from that hole. Come over here,” Mrs. Bailey snapped sternly.

  “Mom, I heard it. I really heard it. It wasn’t like when my imaginary friends speak to me. I really, really heard him. The mouse can talk,” Alexa jabbered out as fast as her tongue could go. Then she bent down again and looked in the hole directly into the mouse’s face. “Hi, my name is Alexa. What’s yours?”

  “Judachew,” he answered. “It is nice to meet you, Alexa.”

  “It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Judachew,” Alexa said with a warm smile as she stretched out a finger so they could shake hands. Being a courteous mouse, who was taught well by his mother, Judachew gripped the tip of her finger and shook. This was the most marvelous day of his life. He had just talked to and made friends with a big people.

  “Alexa, please get up off the floor. We have to go meet your father for dinner,” Mrs. Bailey said as she snatched Alexa off the floor. Mrs. Bailey turned to the Pastor before leaving and said, “Pastor, I want to do something special for your wife at our Christmas Eve service. It most likely will be her last one and she is such a wonderful woman.” Mrs. Bailey turned quickly and headed for the door with Alexa’s hand in hers. Judachew thought he could hear her sniffling back tears but he also heard some very delightful words as Alexa yelled out “Bye, Judachew.” He smiled. He had made a real big people friend.

  Judachew scurried off down the corridor on his four short little legs to tell the others about his new friend. Had he stayed he would have heard the sobbing of Pastor Goodbook as he cried out to God for a Christmas Eve miracle.