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The Last Straw
By Paula McDonald
To truly share this season of love and
laughter, even a little boy
Must first discover Christmas in his heart.
Everyone, unfortunately, was cooped up in the
house that typical gray winter afternoon.
And, as usual, the four little McNeals were at it again; teasing each
other, squabbling, bickering, always fighting over their toys.
At times like this, Ellen was almost ready to
believe that her children didn’t love each other, even though she knew that
wasn’t true. All brothers and sisters
fight sometimes, of course, but lately her lively little bunch had been
particularly horrid to each other, especially Eric and Kelly, who were only a
year apart. The two of them seemed
determined to spend the whole long winter making each other miserable.
“Give me that. It’s mine!” Kelly screamed, her voice shrill.
“It is not!
I had it first,” Eric answered stubbornly.
Ellen sighed as she listened to the latest
argument. With Christmas only a month
away, the house seemed sadly lacking in Christmas spirit. This was supposed to be the season of sharing
and love, of warm feelings and happy hearts.
A home needed more than just pretty packages and twinkling lights on a
tree to fill the holidays with joy.
Ellen had only one idea. Years ago, her grandmother had told her about
an old custom that helped people discover the true meaning of Christmas. Perhaps it would work for her family this
year. It was certainly worth a try.
She gathered the children together and lined
them up on the couch, tallest to smallest – Eric, Kelly, Lisa and Mike.
“How would you kids like to start a new
Christmas tradition his year?” she asked.
“It’s like a game, but it can only be played by people who can keep a
secret. Can everyone here do that?”
“I can!” shouted Eric.
“I can keep a secret better than him,” yelled
Kelly.
“I can do it!” chimed in Lisa.
“Me too.
Me too,” squealed little Mike. “I’m big enough.”
“Well then, this is how the game works,”
Ellen explained. “This year we’re going
to surprise Baby Jesus when He comes on Christmas Eve by making Him the softest
bed in the world. We’re going to fill a
little crib with straw to make it comfortable.
But here’s the secret part. The
straw we put in will measure the good deeds we’ve done, but we won’t tell
anyone who we’re doing them for.”
The children looked confused. “But how will Jesus know it’s His bed?” Kelly
asked.
“He’ll know,” said Ellen. “He’ll recognize it by the love we put in to
make it soft.”
“But who will we do these good deeds for?”
asked Eric, still a little confused.
“We’ll do them for each other. Once a week we’ll put all of our names in a
hat, mine and Daddy’s too. Then we’ll
each pick out a different name.
Whoever’s name we draw, we’ll do kind things for that person for a whole
week. But you can’t tell anyone else
whose name you’ve chosen. We’ll each try
to do as many favors for our special person as we can without getting
caught. And for every good deed we do,
we’ll put another piece of straw in the crib.”
“Like being a spy!” squealed Lisa.
“But what if I pick someone’s name that I
don’t like?” Kelly asked with a frown.
Ellen thought about that for a minute. “Maybe you could use an extra fat piece of
straw. And think how much faster the fat
straws will fill up our crib. We’ll use
the cradle in the attic,” she said. “And
we can go to the field behind the school for straw.”
Without a single argument, the children
bundled into their warm hats and mittens, laughing and tumbling out of the
house. The field had been covered with
tall grass in the summer, but now, dead and dried, the golden stalks looked
just like real straw. They carefully
selected handfuls and placed them in the large box they had carried with them.
“That’s enough,” Ellen said, laughing when
the box was almost overflowing.
“Remember, it’s only a small cradle.”
So home they went to spread their straw
carefully on a large tray Ellen never used.
Eric, because he was the oldest, was given the responsibility of
climbing into the attic and bringing down the cradle.
“We’ll pick names as soon as Daddy comes home
for dinner,” Ellen said, unable to hide a smile at the thought of Mark’s
pleased reaction to the children’s transformed faces and their voices, filled
now with excited anticipation rather than annoyance.
At the supper table that night, six pieces of
paper were folded, shuffled and shaken around in mark’s furry winter hat, and
the drawing began. Kelly picked a name
first and immediately started to giggle.
Lisa reached into the hat next, trying hard to look like a serious
spy. Mike couldn’t read yet, so Mark
whispered the name in his ear. Then Mike
quickly ate his little wad of paper so no one would ever learn the identity of
his secret person. Eric was the next to
choose, and as he unfolded his scrap of paper, a frown creased his
forehead. But he stuffed the name
quickly into his pocket and said nothing.
Ellen and Mark selected names and the family was ready to begin.
The week that followed was filled with
surprises, it seemed the McNeal house had suddenly been invaded by an army of
invisible elves. Kelly would walk into
her room at bedtime to find her nightgown neatly laid out and her bed turned
down. Someone cleaned up the sawdust
under the workbench without being asked.
The jelly blobs magically disappeared from the kitchen counter after
lunch one day while Ellen was out getting the mail. And every morning, when Eric was brushing his
teeth, someone crept quietly into his room and made the bed. It wasn’t made perfectly, but it was
made. That particular little elf must
have had short arms because he couldn’t seem to reach the middle.
“Where are my shoes?” Mark asked one
morning. No one seemed to know, but
suddenly, before he left for work, they were back in the closet again, freshly
shined.
Ellen noticed other changes that week
too. The children weren’t teasing or
fighting as much. An argument would
start, and then suddenly stop right in the middle for no apparent reason. Even Eric and Kelly seemed to be getting
along better and bickering less. In
fact, there were times when all the children could be seen smiling secret
smiles and giggling to themselves. And
slowly, one by one, the first straws began to appear in the little crib. Just a few, then a few more each day. By the end of the first week, a little pile
had accumulated.
Everyone was anxious to pick new names and
this time there was more laughter and merriment than there had been the first
time. Except for Eric. Once again, he unfolded his scrap of paper,
glanced at it, and stuffed it in his pocket without a word.
The second week brought more astonishing
events, and the little pile of straw in the manger grew higher and softer. There was more laughter, less teasing, and
hardly any arguments could be heard around the house. Only Eric had been unusually quiet, and
sometimes Ellen would catch him looking a little sad. But the straws in the manger continued to
pile up.
At last it was almost Christmas. They chose names for the final time on the
night before Christmas Eve. As they sat
around the table waiting for the last set of names to be shaken in the hat, the
children smiled as they looked at their hefty pile of straw. They all knew it was comfortable and soft,
but there was one day left and they could still make it a little deeper, a
little softer, and they were going to try.
For the last time the hat was passed around
the table. Mike picked out a name, and
again quickly ate the paper as he had done each week. Lisa unfolded hers carefully under the table,
peeked at it and hunched up her little shoulders, smiling. Kelly reached into the hat and grinned from
ear to ear when she saw the name. Ellen
and Mark each took their turn and handed the hat with the last name to
Eric. As he unfolded the scrap of paper
and glanced at it, his face crumpled and he seemed about to cry. Without a word, he turned and ran from the
room.
Everyone immediately jumped up from the
table, but Ellen stopped them. “No! Stay where you are,” she said firmly. “I’ll go.”
In his room, Eric was trying to pull on his
coat with one hand while he picked up a small cardboard suitcase with the other.
“I’ll have to leave,” he said quietly through
his tears. “If I don’t, I’ll spoil
Christmas.”
“But why?
And where are you going?”
“I can sleep in my snow fort for a couple of
days. I’ll come home right after
Christmas. I promise.”
Ellen started to say something about freezing
and snow and no mittens or boots, but Mark, who had come up behind her, gently
laid his hand on her arm and shook his head.
The front door closed, and together they watched from the window as the
little figure with the sadly slumped shoulders trudged across the street and
sat down on a snow-bank near the corner.
It was dark outside, and cold, and a few flurries drifted down on the
small boy and his suitcase.
“Give him a few minutes alone,” said Mark
quietly. “I think he needs that. Then you can talk to him.”
The huddled figure was already dusted with
white when Ellen walked across the street and sat down beside him on the snow
bank.
“What is it Eric? You’ve been so good these last weeks, but I
know something’s been bothering you since we first started the crib. Can you tell me, honey?”
“Ah, mom. . . don’t you see?” He sniffed.
“I tried so hard, but I can’t do it anymore, and now I’m going to wreck
Christmas for everybody.” With that, he
burst into sobs and threw himself into his mother’s arms.
“Mom.”
The little boy choked. “You just
don’t know. I got Kelly’s name every
time! And I hate Kelly! I tried mom, I really did. I snuck in her room every night and fixed her
bed. I even laid out her crummy nightgown. I let her use my race car one day, but she
smashed it right into the wall like always!
Every week when we picked new names, I thought it would be over. Tonight, when I got her name again, I knew I
couldn’t do it any more. If I try, I’ll
probably punch her instead. If I stay
home and beat Kelly up, I’ll spoil Christmas for everyone.”
The two of them sat there together quietly
for a few minutes, and then Ellen spoke softly to him. “Eric, I’m so proud of you. Every good deed you did should count double
because it was hard for you to be ice to Kelly for so long. But did those good deeds anyway, one straw at
a time. You gave your love when it
wasn’t easy to give. And maybe that’s
what the spirit of Christmas is really all about. And maybe it’s the hard, good deeds and the
difficult straws that make that little crib so special. You’re the one who’s probably added the most
important straws this year.” Ellen
paused, stroking the head pressed tightly against her shoulder. “Now, how would you like a chance to earn a
few easy straws like the rest of us? I
still have the name I picked in my pocket, and I haven’t looked at it yet. Why don’t we switch, for the last day? And it will be our secret.”
Eric lifted his head and looked into her
face, his eyes wide. “That’s not
cheating?”
“It’s not cheating.” And together they dried the tears, brushed
off the snow, and walked back to the house.
The next day, the whole family was busy
cooking and straightening up the house for Christmas Day, wrapping last minute
presents and trying hard to keep from bursting with excitement. But even with all the activity and eagerness,
a flurry of new straws piled up in the crib, and by nightfall the little manger
was almost overflowing. At different
times while passing by, each member of the family, big and small, would pause
and look at the wondrous pile for a moment, then smile before going on. But … who could really know? One more straw might make all the difference.
For that reason, just before bedtime, Ellen
tiptoes quietly to Kelly’s room to lay out the little blue nightgown and turn
down the bed. But she stopped in the
doorway surprised. Someone had already
been there. The nightgown was laid
across the bed, and a small red race car had been placed next to it on the
pillow.
The last straw was Eric’s after all!
At this magical time of year we find ourselves in the thick
of Christmas! I love sitting in a room
with just the Christmas lights on. I
love soft fluffy snowflakes falling outside my window. I love the smells of Christmas! I love Christmas music playing in the
background. On a cold night – add a cup
of hot chocolate. I love having my
family all together – but those times when that isn’t possible – I
remember. I remember things we’ve done
together that have become traditions. I
cherish the evenings of taking plates of goodies to friends and visiting with
people that we don’t see often. I look
forward to Christmas Eve and reading the Christmas Story from Luke and
considering the implications of one newborn baby on each of our lives. 
