Magical Christmas memory
Dedicated to the memory of a wonderful Glanworth lady
While working night shift, as an attendant at a community hospital some years ago, we were informed of a new patient due in shortly.
I had recently been redeployed from a smaller facility caring for the elderly residents who were much less dependent to what I was witnessing now. I was assigned to work with a nurse who had many years’ experience in all aspects of nursing care, so, I wasn’t too worried to hear the new lady would require end of life care.
The ambulance delivered the stretcher containing the new patient. She was transferred to a single room and the nurse quickly got to work preparing her for a comfortable stay.
As I watched this, a funny feeling in my tummy distracted me on several occasions. I questioned myself mentally, asking why this lady disturbed my concentration so much. I thought I wasn’t experienced with this side of caring. I was almost enjoying the knowledge I was gaining observing the procedure. The uneasy feeling persisted, however and I could not shake it.
Later in the evening, when all the other residents were settled, I went back to the lady’s room and stood by her bed offering a silent prayer for her journey home. The nurse had earlier explained to me that she did not expect her to be long in our care. As I gazed at her peaceful face and comfortable body, the penny dropped and I saw the same kind, peaceful face, much younger, encased in a colourful headscarf. This tall gentle lady was doing her best to console the hysterical child.
RECOLLECTION
As the scene unfolded in my mind, I was transported to the small nearby village where I was raised. It was the early ‘60s in the run up to Christmas. Christmas in those days was much simpler with preparation only beginning with the erecting of the crib in the local church. Santa was a lot poorer in those days and he usually brought a small doll, a couple of hankies with a little picture in each corner (which you could imagine were moving if you pulled the cloth in a certain way), some boiled sweets which were named “nopper heads” and maybe an orange or two. The boys’ parcel contained a cap gun in place of the doll.
Holly and paper decorations adorned the walls and ceiling of our house each year and a large bush was set aside for St Stephen’s Day to walk a few miles following the wren, collecting money and eating sweets, cake and drinking red lemonade in every house you called to. It was a magical time of year.
In our house, Christmas began with the arrival of 2 Christmas cards containing money which enabled my mother to spend a bit extra on the nice things associated with Christmas holidays. Her two brothers, Tom who lived in England and Jack who lived in New Zealand, wrote her a Christmas card and long letter containing all the news and the all important pounds and New Zealand dollars
I arrived home from school on a cold, crisp day in early November to find my mother writing letters at the kitchen table. No sign of the usual steaming pot of tea and homemade bread and jam. I knew immediately the cards had arrived and began to feel the excitement of the approaching Christmas holidays. When my mother wrote to her brothers, she lost all track of time and wrote to them as if they were sitting across the table from her, detailing the progression of her five children, my father’s work situation and the weather at the time.
Today she told me she wanted me to do the important job of going to the village and choosing two cards to accompany these letters, explaining to me that I was big enough to make the journey now. She knew I inherited her love for a nice card and would read the verses and choose a fitting one for her two brothers. The only stipulation she made was the inclusion of the words “Across the miles” or “From Ireland”. I could barely breathe with the excitement to be given this responsibility.
She insisted I have tea and bread for the journey, but I barely tasted it in my haste to get started. I put on my warm coat, hat and gloves. My mam gave me two shillings and told me to put it in my glove so I could feel it and wouldn’t lose it. I skipped out the door to her voice, saying “if you fall, don’t wait to get up” and “when I finish here, I’ll come against you”, which meant she would walk towards the village to accompany me home.
I ran the half mile, stopping only to pass the time with fairies and the fairy tree. While sitting, talking to my friends (the fairies), my hand felt cold where the coin lay, so I took it out and placed it in my pocket and continued on to the village. As I approached the shop which sold the Christmas cards, I put my hand in my pocket and to my horror, there was no coin there. I searched in the other pocket and found that was also empty. I removed my glove to further search, but no luck. Shock and disappointment enveloped my whole being and the sadness at not seeing the beautiful Christmas cards, coupled with the picture of my mother’s disappointed face when I returned empty handed, gave way to hysteria. I cried and cried loudly, while sitting on the shop window.
Between the sobs, I pleaded with Baby Jesus to find the two shillings, but he just wasn’t listening to me today. I was completely absorbed in the sadness of my situation when I heard a gentle voice asking “What’s the matter, stop crying now and tell me”. I looked up and through the tears, I saw the kind face of the lady in the multi coloured headscarf. Between sobs, I explained my predicament, adding for dramatic effect that my mother would kill me as she needed to post the letters tomorrow so they would reach her brothers in time for Christmas.
The lady smiled and reached in to her handbag, producing a half crown. I explained that this was too much as I had only lost two shillings. She explained that the six pence was to be spent on sweets for myself and the two shillings on the Christmas cards. I thanked her profusely and disappeared inside the shop before she would change her mind and take it back. I had never got a half crown from an adult before, except on my Holy Communion day the year before.
I dutifully chose the two best cards on offer and skipped home enjoying an orange ice pop, bag of crisps and a penny bar, all bought with the extra six pence. I felt sure the Baby Jesus must have answered my prayers by sending the mysterious lady to my aid. I was full of the joys of life but had to keep it a secret as the lady had told me not to tell my mother to avoid being killed! I called again to the fairy fort and relayed the story to my friends, as I could not keep that magical experience to myself. But I felt a certain loyalty to the lady to keep our secret.
As I left the fairy fort, my mother appeared to meet me and accompany me home. I was so proud producing the beautiful cards I had chosen. She seemed very satisfied and declared that my uncles would be extremely happy with my choice. She told me how proud she was of my accomplishment when I handed her the change. I felt six foot tall and offered a silent prayer to Baby Jesus for the resolution of the earlier problem.
While preparing for bed later that night, on removing my clothes something fell to the floor and rolled under the bed. I lay on the floor to investigate and to my horror, the two shillings lay there. Now I was in a worse situation and had to think fast before my older sister came to bed. I cried again now, wondering how I would explain this money. I decided to hide it in the statue of Holy Mary, that had a font in the front of it for holy water. This would give me some time to think about the situation. With the money safely hidden in the statue, I drifted off to sleep, still thinking of the kind lady.
I can’t actually recall how I explained the two shillings when I gave it back to my mother a few days later. I probably told her I found it on the road and though my dad worked all the hours God sent, the modest wages for a labourer would quickly disappear on the needs of five growing children. So, I’m pretty sure that two shillings went to good use and nobody but myself and the lady in the headscarf were any wiser.
FINAL FAREWELL
A call bell from another room brought me back to the present and having to dealt with this situation. I went again to the lady’s room. Her relatives were sitting by her bed by now. I relayed the story of the half-crown to them and hoped she heard in her semi-conscious state. I had forgotten all about this incident and was never quite sure who the mysterious lady was, as she would not have been in my parents’ social circle. I hope when she went to her reward early next day, she had heard the gratitude of the hysterical girl and realised how she had produced such a magical experience to a young child.
The real spirit of Christmas.