I used to be all gaga about Christmas, from a very young age, i loved christmas holidays like nothing ever before. There was just something about them, apart from the fact that people celebrate the birth of Christ. To me it was magical, serene, and gracious. Not only did i take joy at knowing that I exist as a human being because of Christ, it was more than that. It meant giving, loving, appreciating, praying,being thankful and keeping the light of faith and hope burning. I felt much of a greater connection with God, and with Christ himself.
But as i grew older, and experienced the tough situations that life threw at me, the light seemed to die away slowly. I no longer celebrated Christmas, There was just no need to be all jolly when my own life was a living hell and no one seemed to give a dime.I was hurt. felt broken, and it never occurred to me that one day something or someone might just mend me I'm not sure if i doubted the existence of God or I just believed that God seized caring. The spark was simply dead.
As i grew older and got to understand a thing or two about God's plan for our lives, it occurred to me that maybe God was not dead as i purported, that God indeed cared. But why did He not say anything when life pinned me down and left me without any hope?Why was He so silent when so many injustices happened in the world? Why did He keep quiet when the world mocked me and asked me where my God was in my time of trouble? I sat and waited, gave him a chance to explain Himself. It did not even take too long till i figured it all out. All this time it wasn't that God did not care, or that he was silent. He was fixing everything, making it alright. It does not matter how long it took to mend my broken soul, my broken heart. What mattered was that I became alright, i survived in the midst of an outrageous danger posed by the devil himself in my life.
The book i'm reading now is titled Frontier Christmas, It may be old school to some but once in a while we need to have a look at different aspects of life. In this collection of romance tales,a white woman learns the meaning of christmas from an Apache, a little girl wishes for a christmas angel, an errant husband returns, and a widow rediscovers love.These stories were written by Madeline Baker, Robin Lee Hatcher, Norah Hess and Connie Mason. respectively.
The first story, which will be our focus, loving Sarah,written by Madeline Baker, a woman's husband is attacked and killed during a raid by a group of blood thirsty Indians, and her son kidnapped by the same Indians. Her life was spared and she had no idea why. Sarah was now left all alone as there were no other people in the immediate area, Now some good samaritan was in the habit of leaving a large oak basket filled with food at her doorstep. This went on for as long as she could remember. Without this food from her mystery samaritan she would have died from hunger, but what good was her to eat when she was in such misery? Just who eats when their lives are miserable? That's exactly how Sarah felt then. She felt no good alive. But there was just one ;element that kept her alive, that forced her to eat and try to keep the faith up, that was her son, Danny.
She was hopeful that one day, just one good day,she would be able to see her son again. Now this good samaritan who'd been providing her with food, turned out to be am Apache, (a name which was chosen out of respect to refer to Native American Indians), He had been watching her, as if studying her, saw her crying and felt her pain. His own brother was responsible for the murder of Sarah's husband and the kidnapping of her son.Though he was different from other Apaches, there was nothing he could have done to stop his brother from doing such misdeeds.. The least he could do was take care of this woman who had suffered such tremendous loss.
The Apache through spying on the white woman called Sarah. never thought that he would fall in love with her.
The Apache,whom we now learn is called Toklanni, and Devlin as his other name, is heart broken at the need to tell Sarah about the whereabouts of her son though he knows that he would break her heart all over again solely because he knew and understood what would follow;chaos. If the Army was alerted about a kidnapped child by the Indians there would be war, people would die He was also afraid that he might lose this woman who had now become his friend, who had welcomed him with both arms, and let her take care of him during the time that he needed such pampering and care.
It was not long till both Sarah and Devlin both confessed their undying love for each other, They went on and got married despite the fact that people would now start talking behind their back, about how a white woman married an Apache though. Devlin had never been in love, and in their culture a man did not choose whom he wanted to marry, it was a decision made by his parents.
Devlin was troubled about how much Sarah wanted her son back, so he went back to his tribe and made a deal with his brother, to surrender the boy for a price. But there was nothing he could offer him except for his gray stallion.. His brother, Noche, felt it was not enough, so he suggested that his own brother must fight him. If Devlin became victorious, he'd take the boy to his mother,and if he lost, the boy had to remain behind. Devlin knew he had to win no matter what. Noche was shorter than him, and yet faster. But that could not keep him down.With so much determination Toklanni had pinned his brother down to the ground and held his knife at his throat. He promised to spare his life as long as he made a vow not to come after the boy and never to attack the white woman ever again. Toklanni emerged victorious, took Danny,the white woman's son and headed on home.
On a Christmas morning, Sarah worried about her husband's whereabouts, worried about his well being since he had went out to fight his brother. She sat by the window and watched as it snowed down, frosting the trees and the fence posts with a layer of white. Suddenly she saw horse and riders and feared for her life at realising that the horse was not her husband's gray stallion. Minutes later she felt a deep sense of relief as she recognised that the rider was her husband, and the smaller one..... Danny! her own son had graced their home once again.
The white woman felt home, for a very long time she had felt that she did not even belong in her own house, now she felt alive. Seeing her son for the first time after a long period of agony, of missing him not knowing whether or not he was doing fine with the Indians. They exchanged gifts for christmas, but for Sarah, the only gift that she was thankful for a million times was that her own son, Danny, was now back home, untouched. She was merry that there was now a man in the house, a man she loved, a man who loved her.And for the Apache whose home was now Sarah's home. loving this white woman and having her was truly the greatest gift of all.
So the moral of the story here is that no matter how much deeper in an ugly situation one may find themselves in, nothing has to die in you. Keep charging, keep pushing, and pray harder. So as we're headed for this Christmas keep the spirit alive, i know i've already started! Cheers!
