Magpie's Last Gift
“And just why don't you believe in Santa Claus any more, my little Magpie?” asked her 86-year-old Grandpa Hank.
Six-year-old Maggie, raising her little finger and wiggling it at him in rhythm with her words, said, “Well, Grampy, you 'member last year when I asked you if Santa really ate those cookies? And you said, 'Well, of course he did!'” Pausing long enough to put her hand on her hips akimbo style, Maggie tilted her head, looking seriously at Grampy for just a second. Then with that same little wagging finger pointed straight at him in the most accusatory way, she said, “Well, if Santa ate those cookies, then you're Santa and I know you didn't spend this past year at the North Pole. You were right here with me!” A foot stomp ended her closing argument.
As Grampy caught the twinkle in those brown eyes of Maggie, he heard the giggles from Maggie's mother, Kathryn who was his daughter. Maggie's father had died in an auto accident before Maggie was three. Always a precocious and intelligent child, Grampy and Kathryn found that mixing those two ingredients made for many delightful hours with just the 3 of them together in this cozy family room.
“Now, little miss, just how do you know it was me who ate those cookies?” Grampy asked with his eyes taking on that same mischievous twinkle of Maggie's in his old faded brown eyes.
“I can't tell you 'cause if I do, then I'll get in trouble for staying up too late and sneaking...oh!” Instantly one of those pudgy, little hands flashed up and covered her mouth, trying to hold back unheard that gasp of realization that she just told on herself!
At this, neither Kathryn nor Grampy could hold back the peals of laughter. At first Maggie felt the relief of getting out of trouble, but then Grampy made a suggestion that made her brain pucker a bit.
“I s'pose, Magpie, you're just going to have to ask God now for that puppy you want.”
Unbeknownst to Grampy and Kathryn, Maggie had found the little golden retriever puppy in a stall of the barn at the corner of the farm. She had visited the golden boy almost every day; she would sneak down there, playing with him and taking him treats so he wouldn’t feel lonely in that big, old cavern of a building. Grampy had purchased the puppy the week before as a surprise for her Christmas present.
Maggie's little brows kneaded together as she actually thought out loud, “But Grampy, how do I know you aren't God giving me my presents? How do I know that God is even real?”
Not hindered at all by this deep question from his contemplative granddaughter, he said, “Now, Magpie, I can't possibly do everything that God does. I can't make the earth and the trees and the butterflies. Only God can do that. All you have to do is look up at the sky at night, see all those stars and know that only a true God could create every one of those stars and place them there.”
Maggie became quiet after that and returned to sit down by her mother, sorting through her thoughts and emotions. As it turned out, that was the last nugget of wisdom that Maggie's Grampy would ever give her. That night, he had a heart attack in his sleep and died.
Returning home from the funeral several days later, Maggie suddenly remembered the puppy and ran to the barn, conscious of the fact it would be the last present her Grampy would ever give her. But due to all the pain of loss, the confusion of making arrangements, and being shuffled from one place to another, Maggie and her mother had forgotten about the puppy in the barn. In hunger, the golden had chewed through enough of the old wooden boards and escaped in search of food and water. No matter how much they searched for the puppy, he was nowhere to be found.
A week passed and it was now Christmas Eve. Kathryn worried about her daughter; Maggie had lost that twinkle, the vivacity of life. After not being able to find the puppy, all Maggie would do was sit on the couch, stare out the large picture window on the backside of the house, and gaze off blankly into the woods. Her mother was fairly sure she was hoping beyond hope that the puppy would return. Trying to get her daughter off the couch, Kathryn had suggested several different activities, all of which Maggie would just slowly shake her head without removing her eyes from the window.
Maggie had spent all week, silently trying to pray to God, trying to believe her Grampy, trying to believe that God was real. Her prayers were simple. “Please God, if you're real, bring my puppy back to me. He’s the last thing my Grampy will ever give me. I even want to call him Hank which is what other people called Grampy. If you'll just bring my Hank back to me, I can believe you're real. In Jesus' name, amen.”
As night fell that Christmas Eve, with her mother beside her, Kathryn asked Maggie what she could do to help her feel better. With her big brown eyes, moist from the tears that she held back, she said, “I want to believe. But Grammy's gone. Grampy's gone. Daddy's gone. Even my puppy's gone! They're not here anymore. They're not real anymore! How can God be real?” And with that, little Magpie broke down and cried for the first time since the funeral.
Holding Maggie tight while she let out her grief, Kathryn asked if Maggie wanted to say a prayer with her. Maggie nodded but told her Mommy to say it for her.
Kathryn prayed to God asking for help with the pain, to learn how to see God in everyday life and to help show little Magpie that He is real. They sat together for a while, talking about their special memories of Grampy, Grammy and Daddy. Kathryn explained how they were still just as real as they were before, just as real as God, even spending all their time together now in Heaven with God. Maggie was able to go to bed feeling a little bit lighter in spirit, but still very doubtful.
Upon waking the Christmas morning with the sun shining, Maggie saw that it had snowed a couple of inches during the night, giving the earth a clean, soft look...and a white Christmas. Putting on her robe, she smiled weakly at that thought. She made her way slowly without any enthusiasm into the family room, sitting in Grampy's chair by the fire. Her mother had watched Maggie as she trudged through and felt a heavy heart and prayed a little prayer for wisdom on how to proceed with her daughter.
Before she could end her prayer, there was a knock at the door. Kathryn assumed it was her neighbor, Miss Charlotte, who would spend her Christmas morning driving from house to house in her community passing out her famous fruitcake (well, her infamous fruitcake, Kathryn giggled to herself) as a gift for each family within 30 miles. But when she opened the door, she stood face to face with a nice young man holding a squirming golden retriever puppy in his arms.
“I was walking up the road and found this little one in the ditch about a mile from here. I figured he belonged to this house. Am I right?”
Breathless and at a loss for words, Kathryn threw her hands to her cheeks and was able to get out in a whisper, “Yes...oh, yes!” She turned toward Maggie whose back was to the door and said with more wind behind her words, “Maggie! Come here! See what this young man has found!”
Maggie, intrigued by her mother's actions, got up and started walking over to the door. That was when she saw Hank jostling in her mother's arms! Not only did Maggie's eyes come back to life, but her faith in God started blossoming again inside of her. After a short sprint to her mother and Hank, they turned back to the door to thank the young man, but he was gone.
Maggie, not one to let go of a sense of obligation, ran outside to catch up to the young man, but she couldn't see him. He wasn't in the driveway. She scanned left and right. The man wasn't anywhere in the yard between here and the road. Looking down to find which way his footprints led, she realized all she saw were a puppy's, definitely Hank's, and now her own mixed in with them.
Having grabbed Maggie's coat, Kathryn caught up to her and realized the same thing that Maggie had already concluded: the young man was nowhere to be seen. However, coming up the driveway was Miss Charlotte with her fruitcake.
After greeting her, Kathryn asked, “Miss Charlotte, did you happen to see a young man walking down the road?”
“Nope, can't say I've seen anyone this morning. You're the first one I've actually found awake yet. No one else has answered their door. Guess I'll just have to give them their cake tomorrow.” Charlotte shrugged her shoulders, then her face brightened. “No, maybe I can drop by those places later today, after my family has had our dinner. That way, they can have it in time for their dessert. After dinner coffee and fruitcake go so well together, don't ya think?”
“That'd be nice, Miss Charlotte. And thank you so much for the fruitcake. We'll definitely be putting it away ourselves.” Meaning we'll be putting it away in the trash, she thought to herself. “Miss Charlotte, did you, uhm, happen to see any fresh prints in the snow as you came up our driveway?”
“Not at all, not at all. Your driveway was as smooth as a fresh made bed. Well, until I ruined it. Is there a reason you're looking for a young man?” she asked with her right eyebrow cocking up.
“No, no Miss Charlotte. We just thought we saw a young man in our yard, that's all. Thank you!”
Kathryn started toward the house but turned back and said with a smile, “ And good luck with your deliveries!”
Returning to the house, all three - Kathryn, Maggie and Hank - sat down on the couch together. Maggie looked at her mother and said, “Mommy, God has to be real. Not only did he answer my prayers for Hank coming back, but he sent an angel to bring him back! That was an angel, wasn't it, Mommy? A Christmas angel?”
©2022 Kelly L. Hartley
Kelly L. Hartley, a new author, writes Bible studies, devotions, fiction, and poems. She focuses on Bible contradictions for her “Spare Time Musings” on Substack. She’s a member of Ozark Chapter of American Christian Writers and Springfield Writer’s Guild. Social media: Substack, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram.