Chapter 8
The only thing he had ever carved that he was more proud of was a nativity scene. He had made a stable from twigs and pieces of bark, and had actually thatched a roof made out of dried mountain grass. He had then painstakingly carved Mary and Joseph, and the shepherds, and the animals and the wise men and even the baby Jesus.
On Christmas Eve night when his wife, Mary, was still alive, after the tree was up and decorated, and the presents had been placed under the tree, Mary would go to the special heavy corrugated storage box. With great reverence and respect she would gently lift out their nativity set. She would sit by the tree and gently unwrap each statue and lovingly place it inside the stable. The little hand painted plaster form of Jesus was always the last thing she would place inside. Before she placed Jesus inside the stable she would raise the small figurine to her lips and kiss it ever so lightly. As she situated baby Jesus between Mary and Joseph every year she would look up at Sam and say the same thing. “We must never forget, or let our children forget, that Christmas is about this little baby Sam! It’s not about presents, it’s not about Santa, it’s about the baby Jesus and what He did for us.”
“Yes, I know honey, but it’s time that we get to bed, morning will come pretty early when the kids start yelling for us to get up.”
“Wo, there’s a fat one, steady, steady!” Crack went the old rifle and Sam had nailed his Christmas Eve dinner with one shot. “You might be old Sam Lewis, but you’re still a deadly shot!” he was talking to himself again, no, make that still!
He threw his, soon to be dinner, in a gunny sack and trudged off in search of a nice little tree. Actually little trees were pretty darn hard to find in those parts. If he didn’t mind a 90 foot fir tree that would take about 2 ½ months to cut down by hand it would have been no problem, there were plenty of those to be had. However he probably wouldn’t have enough garland or ornaments to decorate the thing. It actually took him more time to find the tree and chop it down than it did to find that rabbit and dispatch it.
Then he had to drag that bugger back to the cabin. He must have been 2 ½ to 3 miles away. He arrived back around 2:00 pm or so. After stoking the stove and adding some wood, he opened a can of chili and placed it on the stove to heat while he went outside to gut and skin his kill. He took the skin and nailed it to the side of the cabin. Between the freezing cold and the occasional wayward bird, by spring it would be a relatively clean pelt that he’d use for something.
Sam gulped down a few bites of chili, and started preparing the main course. As the rabbit simmered in the skillet he set up the tree and quickly threw the ragged garland around it, before having to stop and turn the rabbit over to brown on the other side. He pulled out an old cardboard box from under the bed and brought it over to the tree. He quickly hung all the ornaments that he had carved over the years, and crowned the tree with the majestic gold nugget haloed angel.
The cabin was filling with the aroma of fresh fried rabbit, and he hurried to remove the skillet before it became too brown. He lifted the dutch oven down from the shelf and used the tail of his flannel shirt to wipe the dust from inside. He placed the golden brown pieces in one by one, added the water, placed the lid on top and placed it to the rear of the stove where it could slowly bake.
He poured some water into a pan to start warming it for the mashed potatoes and biscuits. “Oh my, I do have some biscuit mix left don’t I?” He went rummaging through his little wooden cabinet and there in the back was an old box of biscuit mix. When he started to remove the box he spotted a can of green beans that had gotten shoved to the rear. “Whoopee!” he exclaimed, “Biscuits and green beans! We are going to have a party tonight!” He prepared the biscuit mix and scooped out four globs of dough into a heavy old iron skillet and covered them with an old cookie sheet. He opened the can of green beans and put them on the stove to heat.
He suddenly realized that the sun was setting fast and it was getting very dark. He reached for the old lantern and lit it, adjusting the wick so that it would burn clean. He also lit one of his candles that he only used for emergencies, but this was a special night. As the sun fell he directed his attention back to the old cardboard box. It was time. It was time to engage in the ritual that Mary held so dear all the years that they were married.
He knelt down by the tree and removed the stable that he had made. One by one he placed the hand carved figures inside, just as delicately as she had done. When he came to the carving of the baby Jesus he looked out the window, into the great darkness that had fallen outside and said softly, “This is for you Mary.” he then brought the baby Jesus to his lips and gently kissed it. As a tear rolled down his cheek he placed Jesus between His Mother and His Father in the stable.