Today I take over from author Stephanie Cain in our blog tour where she shared her Christmas story for Giftmas 2018. Consequently, I have my Christmas story here for Giftmas 2018. For some of my oldest readers way back from 2014, you may have read this one. It’s not the happy story but it’s what I wrote many Christmases before.
However, this year, for Giftmas 2018, like I said, our author group on this blog tour are sharing their stories online to raise funds for the Edmonton Food Bank. In six half the goal has been achieved. Our goal is 750$.
Giftmas-2018
Christmas Story for Giftmas 2018
LETTERS FROM BIDBID
When Colleen tore open her son’s letter she was ecstatic. It had been six months since he’d been writing letters from an outpost in Oman. Most of them from Bidbid. It surprised her, as there was no US military base there. As far as she knew the Masirah base served the US Navy and Dan was an army man just like his father. But she didn’t question him because he never shared details about work no matter how much she prodded.
Dressed in woolies and thick socks she stoked the fire before settling to read her precious letters. She emptied its contents onto her lap. The wood crackled and the stockings she’d hung a s part of her elaborate
Taking the hot cocoa in one hand she drew a long, slow sip. She read each word slowly savoring it like a rich slice of pecan pie. The flicker of fire cast playful shadows in the living room. Shriveled, fingers held the letter which she re-read.
Dear Ma,
I hope you’re doing fine. It must be snowing there in Lonsdale. I always tell the guys here if there’s one place to enjoy the winter- its Minnesota- where the snow never stops until spring and Christmas lasts us three months. This Christmas Ma, are you going to make my favorite gingerbread men? Bidbid is not very cold. It’s cooler, which makes for better weather than the ghastly heat. But it’s nowhere close to Lonsdale’s below zero temps.
How’s Cara? Give her my love. Is she going to graduate this fall? Can you believe our little baby is now going to be a teacher? I miss home and I miss you. I remember how we used to make snowmen and shovel snow on Christmas morning. It feels like yesterday. You might be thinking- has it hailed in Bidbid yet? No, it hasn’t, but it did rain the entire evening last weekend. And the little rain that we received caused all the wadis to overflow. The roads were inaccessible and nobody went to work for several days. Such were the happenings in Bidbid. Would love to enjoy roast potatoes and chicken for Christmas dinner this year!
Ma I’m sending you a little something for Christmas. I hope you like it. I don’t want you to worry about me. Take care of yourself. I hope to write soon. Your letters are the only thing that helps me survive the mountains here in Bidbid.
I wish I were there with you this Christmas. Hopefully soon, Ma. Work in Bidbid seems to be coming to an end. If God wills I should be there soon. Ma, I miss you and love you.
Your son,
Dan
Colleen put down the letter and somehow felt a twinge of pain. Dan had never liked Christmas. Fifteen months ago, the military informed her that Dan went missing in Basra. He was assigned a ‘missing in action’ status since then. Her daughter Cara went to the military office to bring back his things. But the grief that overwhelmed Colleen when those uniforms came back home was enormous. To others, they may have been things, but to her, they had become him. With no body to cry over, she was lost to depression for a year. And the only thing that brought her back to reality was letters her son started to send her.
Dan wrote he’d been given a very secret mission. His disappearance was a decoy to go undercover. He asked her to destroy all the letters. She didn’t tell anyone about them. Six months of regular correspondence from Bidbid sprung new life into her. Cara left for college and Colleen was happy with her existence as long as she heard from her son. She thought little of the fact that Dan had never written more than five letters in his entire military career of four years prior to his disappearance.
She assumed it was her depression that forced Dan to write often. His letters always made her feel fuzzy. He was appreciative and wise beyond his years in them.
With the letter still on her mind, she hurried to the kitchen. Dan was sending her a surprise. It gave her a little zing. She might as well start on those gingerbread men. For the next two days, she baked and baked, every possible Christmas delight in her cookbook enjoying every moment of it. She stopped for a moment to think what if her beloved Daniel was going to be the surprise himself? That would be the best Christmas gift she’d have.
But then she thought about what Daniel said. He still had work to do. She knew the entire letter by heart now. Not trusting her memory, she went to her Bible where she’d hidden the letter.
She read it again, tracing the words with her finger. By evening she was feeling particularly decadent, so she poured herself some scotch and settled before the fire. Closing her eyes she tried to imagine what Bidbid looked like as she did every day.
She saw the people there dressed in white dishdashas and embroidered skullcaps. Her son with them was wearing his casual jeans and tee smiling at her. The red, stone mountains high and the valleys low just how Dan had described. The quaint town of Bidbid was where she wanted to be, with her son. She imagined Daniel, with his lovely sea blue eyes smiling at her, reaching out to her, his face bright.
And she was happy.
The high-pitched doorbell jolted her. It could be her neighbor coming to check on her. Oh well, she had to wake up from Bidbid sometime. It would be nice to have someone around other than her dreams. When she opened the door she froze, there right before her eyes stood her handsome son Daniel. He looked very different from the boy she had sent to the military. This man looked very much like his father, with those blue eyes, a rugged beard, and short cropped gold hair. Battle scars etched into his forehead. His face was war-weary. The harsh military reality had aged him.
“Aren’t you going to give me a hug Ma?”
Colleen instantly moved to enclose him in a warm embrace with a loud cry, tears streaming down her face. To think he would surprise her this way. She finally let him go when he wriggled in her arms. His six feet almost dwarfing her five-foot three frame.
She put some stew on the platter with homemade rolls. With new wonder she watched her son eat, she smiled as he wolfed down his meal. There was something that made a mother’s heart swell with pride when her son enjoyed the food of your hands.
Daniel sat in his father’s rocking chair later with the hot cocoa his mother gave him.
He said to her as she stood clearing dishes in the kitchen, “Ma that was a wonderful dinner. I haven’t eaten like that for months. I’m stuffed.”
She scrubbed the marble platform in her kitchen and said, “I’m glad you liked it, Dan. Why didn’t you mention you were coming? I could have been more prepared. Maybe even killed my fatted calf if I knew my only son, once lost was now found.”
“No Ma I wanted to surprise you. I have to admit that I’m a bit surprised myself that you’re taking all this so well.” He stopped and started again. “The base even gave me a few pamphlets on how to deal with a parent’s grief.”
She hung all her pans intently listening to him.
“The letters helped me survive Dan. Else I would have gone mad. Trust me, I went almost crazy when they first told me about you.”
“What letters?” asked Daniel.
Colleen froze for a moment. Her hand carrying the pan stopped mid-air.
“Ma the military released me in a sting operation in Basra two weeks ago. I got debriefed in DC and came home immediately. Did someone from the base write to you?”
Colleen looked at the kitchen around her, lost in her own home. If Daniel didn’t send those letters then who did? There were so many things that only Daniel would have known. Like the way, he called her Ma, Cara, the things he liked to eat. But then didn’t she always find that her letter writer had been warmer than Daniel. He had been everything Daniel hadn’t been. A low pain hung in her gut. She was upset and she didn’t know why. If not Daniel, then who? The question nagged her.
The next morning the pair cleared snow in the driveway and spent time laughing and making a snowman, but the question still lingered. Who was writing her those letters?
A day before Christmas, the doorbell rang. A parcel was delivered to Colleen O’Donnell.
“Who sent you the gift Ma?” Daniel asked her teasingly.
Colleen saw the glint in his eyes.
“Didn’t you Danny boy?”
“No Ma,” he said sheepishly looking at his feet. “I would have. But I didn’t have the time. I’m sorry Ma.”
She didn’t open it. Waiting for the day to pass delaying the inevitable, she sat down that night with a scotch. She needed its encouragement, afraid of the gift.
She opened the parcel carefully and saw a metallic frame with a photograph of Daniel and another boy both in their gear, smiling holding their guns, looking sharp in their hard hats. It was probably an old photo judging by Dan’s current appearance. Dan saw the picture and stood still.
He stared at the two men in happier times, his gaze unflinching. And then he walked away.
Colleen looked up at her son. “Dan, what’s the matter?”
“It’s Colin Ma. We were in the same unit back then, even in Basra.”
He choked back tears. Sitting at the desk facing the window overlooking his mother’s garden, he cried. Colleen put a hand on her son’s shoulder.
“Ma. Colin was my best buddy.”
“Was?”
“Colin and I were best mates back in Iraq. He would often imitate me when I called you. Colin was adopted. When his parents died, he quit college and joined the army. Said we were his real family. I told him stories about you and Cara. I told him about Lonsdale and the Minnesota snow. He was like a brother to me. Said he would one day come to Lonsdale and see for himself.”
Colleen looked at his dimmed eyes without its usual sparkle. She knew whatever was coming next was going to be extremely painful.
“When we were taken by the insurgents in Basra, he was left as a messenger to inform the military that three of the soldiers were taken captive. Two others were shot dead before our eyes as they resisted. I kept wondering if Colin would search for me.”
“We waited as one negotiation after the other failed.”
Again there was silence and more tears.
“He led my rescue team Ma. He was serving as a private defense contractor in Oman. Two weeks ago he led a rescue mission to extract us. He didn’t give up on us. He came back for us.”
Daniel paused.
“Everything happened so fast Ma. In the crossfire, we lost him Ma.”
Daniel clung to her shoulders and cried, his whole body shook and Colleen felt a knife go to her heart. Her letter writer was gone.
“Ma you know what he said before he died in my arms, your Ma needs you.”
When Cara came home that evening it was evident that evening she had been crying. Her puffy eyes and the deep red flush on her daughter’s face told her she knew Colin as well. They both knew the letter writer.
Colleen closed the door to her room and looked at the gift again. A boy with black hair and grey eyes was staring at her, almost as tall as Daniel with a broad smile.
She looked inside the envelope, there was a letter. It was Colin’s letter. His last.
Dear Ma,
I hope Christmas is shaping up to be a treat. How’s Lonsdale? I’m going to be out on a very dangerous mission Ma. I don’t know if I will make it back. But I want you to know Ma how much I miss you. Bidbid still remains the same. I am sending you a picture of me with my best bud Colin. He says you’re a champion. Ma I want you to know that your letters have helped me survive these last few years in Bidbid. And I love that you wrote to me so often.
I’m so glad about it. No one could ever replace you. Ma I hope to be stateside soon. Pray for the mission and pray for me. Also, pray for the team working with me. Pray that all of us may return home. Pray that the war may come to an end and that no mother would have to go through this kind of pain again. I wanted to mention that under no circumstances should you let Cara join the armed forces. Let her finish college. Ma I need you to be strong. If all goes well, I may come to see you soon with my buddy Colin. You truly have no idea how much your letters mean to me. They have been my strength and sustenance. See you soon.
Your loving son,
Daniel.
PS- Hope you like the photograph.
Tears rolled down Colleen’s face, grief consuming her. She went to Daniel’s room watching her son sleep. It was Christmas day two minutes ago. Colin had promised her a gift and he was lying here in front of her. She didn’t know Colin’s reasons, but she did know the sacrifice he made. Do heroes exist? Yes, they do. They don’t wear capes or tell the world what they do. They just go about it quietly and get the job done. Years ago, a mother gave birth to a child. A child she’d lost in the prime of his youth. Little did she know that she’d borne a Savior.
For the first time, Colleen understood the joy as all mother’s do at the birth of their first child like a mother once did in Jerusalem. And truly there was no day like Christmas to recognize what a beautiful gift a mother had given the world in her son, Jesus. Christmas took on a new meaning and Colleen vowed never to forget the lesson she’d learned this Christmas as she closed the door and watched her son sleep.
-The End-
Edmonton Food Bank
There are tons of prizes. Therefore, there’s no reason not to take part. In fact, for a list of prizes, check out this post!
Did you link my christmas story for Giftmas 2018. Next, up in our blog tour, author JS Watts, will share her Christmas story for Giftmas 2018. Don’t forget to check it out.
Remember each Christmas story for Giftmas 2018 will be featured in an anthology for Christmas Day.