CHRISTMAS EVE TEARS
Blessed Is the Ordinary, Reflections of Gerhardt Frost, in his little book he writes: “Christmas eve, late afternoon, I believe I was seven and Mother, bless her, was making something special instead of the traditional jello, whipped cream and bananas. She was baking a towering pie. I stood at her elbow, as small boys always will, as she peaked for a moment through the partially opened oven door. “Perfect, perfect. The meringue is just right!” In color and consistency, the moment had arrived. Carefully, so cautiously, she drew it out, when suddenly a slip of those sure hands and the capsized tower slithered across the floor, never to be a pie again. And Mother, not a weeper (I can count the times), covered her face with her apron and cried. She was outraged that God would let it happen! No one, but no one cries on Christmas Eve. Why did she do it, prepare this gift for hungry little gluttons–jello was…
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