Saving for Christmas

"Tell me again, Raul. Tell me about your tree."

I sighed, smoothed out the wrinkles of the blanket covering Hosea's legs, and started the story again. Hosea's eyes twinkled and his smile told me that his interest in the story was blocking out the pain. That in itself would have been enough for me to repeat the story, but the story still excited me too, so I didn't mind saying it all again.

"Can you see it over there in the corner, Hosea?" I asked. "Can you see it standing tall, all the way to the ceiling, with lights, and bright, shiny ornaments—and with the angel Gabriel high on top, trumpeting the good news?"

"Yes, yes, I can see it, Raul," Hosea said, as he clapped his hands in delight. My friend was peering intently into the dark corner of his shabby little room, and the brightness of his delight made the gloom and squalor of the sick room disappear. "Tell me again, Raul. Tell me about how you will get such a wonderful Christmas tree."

"It has been our project all year, Hosea," I answered, spinning a story that Hosea had already heard three times during this visit. "I asked my parents if we could have a real Christmas tree this year, with lights and everything. I said that I just knew if we all worked hard all year, and put aside a little bit each week from all our jobs, we could have such a tree this year. We already have a Christmas tree, of course, but it is a short, false tree, with tired, fading paper leaves, that Papa has pulled out of a cardboard tube and fluffed out every year since before I was born. We can't put lights on it, Papa said—if we had any lights to put on it, of course—or it would burn our apartment house down. And its branches have become too weak even to hold up those paper ornaments we made for it two years ago. So, last year I asked Papa and Mama if, for this year, we could have a new tree, a real tree, with lights and everything. And with the angel Gabriel on top."

"And what did they say, Raul? What did your Papa answer?"

"My papa's face turned very serious and sad, and he said to me, 'Ah, but we are too poor, Raul. Everyone here is too poor. No one has money for such a tree, son.'"

Hosea sat up in his cot and leaned forward. I knew we had gotten to his favorite part of the story. "But what was your mama's answer to that, Raul? Tell me again what she said." He knew what my mama had said. I'm sure Hosea could say it with the same words I had used three times already today. And, indeed, I could see him mouthing the words as I retold what my mama had said.

I turned to Hosea and put my forehead against his and repeated slowly, so he could savor every word. "'You are right, Papa, of course,' my mama said, 'but we are only poor in our living; we aren't poor in our spirit. If we become poor in our spirit, we might as well stop living. Raul has given us a goal we can work for this year, a goal that will help us keep our spirits up. Let's do it, Papa. Let's see if we can have a real Christmas tree next year."

Hosea gave a contented little sigh and laid back down in his bed. He cast a dreamy look over toward the corner as if he could see our tree of the spirit. "All mamas must be the same," he said in a faraway voice. "My mama says that I must keep up my spirit too and that I must keep my eye on the goal of getting better."

I thought Hosea might be drifting off to sleep, but he suddenly sat up on his cot, opened the drawer of the little stand next to his bed, and gazed intently inside. I knew this was where he kept his toy soldiers, the favorite of his few toys, which had fed his imagination and filled his time for many weeks now. He took three of the little paint-chipped metal figures out of the drawer and examined each one, in turn, closely. Finally, he handed the one with the brightest paint to me and, in an excited voice, said, "Here, Raul, when you have your tree, could you put this on it so that I can share my Christmas with you?"

"But, Hosea, I said, I don't have my tree yet; we haven't even found out if we've really earned enough money. I just tell my story like it's really going to happen so that I won't lose hope. And this is your best soldier. I think—"

"Oh, please, please take it and put it on your tree," Hosea said, as he took my hand and folded my fingers over the toy soldier. "I know you'll have your tree. Your mama said so. And I want something of mine to be on your tree. Now," he said as he laid his head back down on the cot, clearly exhausted from the effort of finding and bestowing his gift, "tell me the rest of the story. Tell me of your plan for getting your Christmas tree and what you have done."

I looked over into the corner where Hosea had envisioned my tree both so that Hosea wouldn't see the tears in my eyes and to gain strength from what he had seen there. But all I could see was the crumbling plaster and the dimness of the late-afternoon's waning light. I sighed and picked up the story again. "We all decided, my papa, my mama, and I, that we'd do a little extra work every week, all year long, and that we'd put the extra money from that in the little tin box on the shelf in the kitchen. We wouldn't open the tin box until just before Christmas. I asked for a few more streets to be added to my paper route and got the doctor to let me help groom his daughter's horse, and I said my goal would be to buy the tree. Papa worked extra hours at the factory, and he said he'd buy the lights. Mama took in a bit more laundry and said she wanted to pay for some ornaments. If there was enough money left over, we'd buy that figure of the angel Gabriel I'd seen in the shop near the church. Tonight is the night when we find out—"

I had turned to face Hosea when I finished the story and found that he'd drifted off to sleep.

I tried to be cheerful with Hosea's mama when she asked me into the kitchen as I was leaving and offered me some fresh pineapple and a bit of cake. She thanked me for visiting with Hosea and said that she at least could offer me something sweet. I told her how much Hosea loved my story about the Christmas tree we were working to have, and although I knew what the answer would be, I asked her if there would be a tree for Hosea too.

"Oh dear me, no," Hosea's mama said. "We don't have time for that in this house." There was a pause, and then she said, "Everything I have is going into making Hosea well. Hosea is my Christmas. I was so afraid Hosea wouldn't be here to see Christmas, but Christmas is just two days away, and Hosea is holding his own. That's all Hosea and I can hope for."

"Well," I asked timidly, "Could Hosea come to my apartment on Christmas Day and see our Christmas tree—if we manage to get one?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, Raul," Hosea's mama said. "Hosea isn't well enough to leave his room." She turned her face to the wall, and I finished my cake and left after whispering my good-byes and my Christmas wishes for her and Hosea.

That evening, Papa gathered Mama and me around the kitchen table and, with much ceremony, opened the tin box. Papa hummed a Christmas song and Mama laughed and clapped her hands as coins spilled out onto the kitchen table. Both noticed that I wasn't being happy too, though, and Papa spoke to me in his serious voice. "What is the matter, Raul?" he asked. "Are you afraid there isn't enough money for our Christmas tree?"

"No, Papa," I answered, and then I started to cry and told him what was bothering me.

On Christmas morning, we all came into our living area after Mama had lit some candles around the room. The presents under the tree weren't many, but the wrappings were bright and cheerful and seemed to glow in the candlelight. Mama's old paper tree didn't look so bad in the dancing light, either, and the little toy soldier Papa had managed to fasten to its top gave it a dignified air.

Mama had set hot cocoa out for us, and we had barely been able to take a sip when we heard a knock. Mama answered the door, and Hosea's mama came bustling in. She was crying as she hugged Mama, Papa, and me in turn.

"I came because Hosea asked me too," she said when she had finished making the rounds. "I did as you asked. I told him nothing. But as soon as he woke and saw that Christmas tree all lit up in the corner of his room, he asked me to come straight here. He said he knew that Raul would have a wonderful tree of his own, but he would be very pleased if your whole family could come over and share his Christmas tree with him. And Hosea wanted me to be sure to tell Raul that Gabriel was trumpeting the good news on top of his tree too."