This story is a little long for normal internet forum posts, but it has meant a lot to me over the years. It was written by a gentleman who went by "Boatdood" on another forum I used to frequent that I can't even recall the name of. It was brought to the forefront of my memory this morning as I got the call from my Dad that his oldest sister, my Aunt Clara Mae, achieved her Celestial reward and all her Earthly trials and tribulations were lifted from her. Though the story may initially evoke sadness, every time I read it, it makes my heart yearn to be a better, kinder and more compassionate person- even in the midst of the chaos that our world seems to be shrouded in.
I hope you enjoy Boatdood's story and say a little prayer if you will for Uncle Adron as his closest companion for sixty some odd years will no longer be by his side.
SUBJECT: Pineridge Church of God
by Boatdood from SOUTH CAROLINA
Like countless other churches in the south the Pineridge Church of God held an annual Christmas program. It wasn’t particularly good, nor was it bad, but the participants gave it their all each and every year. The baby Jesus was an honor given to the latest child born in the favor of the church, and Mary was played by an attractive young mother who had paid her dues. Joseph was a privilege usually given to an up and coming young man who had recently been appointed usher, but the one constant, the one dependable blessing from one year to the next was the female solo. “Oh Holy Night” was traditionally the apex of the evening and it was unquestionably sung by none other than Annie Mae Jones, as it had been since anyone in the congregation could remember. But all things change, eventually. Annie Mae lay terminally ill in the local hospital and the day of the program was here. It would take a miracle for Annie Mae to make it this year. If ever there was a time when a miracle could be expected, it was Christmas, but the question was, had the congregation of the Pineridge Church of God run out of miracles for Annie Mae Jones?
“Amos, I need to tell you how it is. I’d like to say that there is hope, but as much as it pains me to say this, there is none. Annie Mae has very little time left on this earth. Her blood oxygen levels are perilously low. I don’t know how she’s still holding on. My belief is that she is holding on for something important to her. Maybe it’s Christmas. Maybe she wants to be here for just one more. Whatever it is, she and all of your family will be better off when she finally lets go. “
The words fell like mill stones around Amos’s neck. Letting go was something he could never do. He’d held onto Annie Mae for nearly fifty years now. She was, after all, the only woman he’d ever loved, she was the mother of his children, his wife, and his best friend for all of his life. There was no way she could leave him now. Still, she lay in the hospital bed barely aware that he was even in the room, struggling for each and every breath. Amos felt the need to talk this over with Annie Mae. Surely she would know what to do. She always did. So Amos asked the doctor to leave them alone.
In silence Amos gently touched Annie Mae’s face, gently brushing the thin gray hair from her cheek. As he did so a tear slipped out of one eye and slowly made its way across his wrinkled face. She couldn’t leave him. Not now. Not ever. But as these thoughts collected in his mind it seemed that indeed she could. Maybe she was already gone, and then he felt a familiar grasp in his hand. Yes, she was still holding on, and then slowly, she opened her eyes. As her still brilliant blue eyes met his she gathered the breath to ask, “Amos, this is Christmas Eve, right?”.
Amos was delighted to hear her voice yet again. There was a time just a few short hours ago when he was sure he’d never hear it again. “Yes Annie Mae. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Simply knowing that her time had arrived yet once more seemed to breathe life into Annie Mae and she sat upright in her bed and spoke, “Amos, you’ve got to get me to the church in time for the program. Everyone would be so disappointed if I didn’t do my solo.”
She sounded so brave and sure with the words, but as soon as they passed her lips she again struggled, and gasped for air. This was a cruel way for such a gentle soul to die. How could God allow this, and on Christmas Eve?
“Amos, I’ve got to tell you this isn’t a good idea, but if she absolutely must go at least take the oxygen tank with you. I doubt she will make it to the church let alone through the service, but the oxygen will give her a fighting chance.”
Amos took the doctor’s advice and with the help of the nurse all of the needed tubing and mask was assembled on the wheel chair for the trip out of the hospital. Annie Mae sat with a smile on her face even though each breath was a challenge. Emphysema is such a challenge for anyone so afflicted, slowly robbing the victim of breath and eventually life itself.
With the nurse’s help Amos was able to load Annie Mae and all the paraphernalia into his old pickup. The wheel chair went in the bed of the truck. Annie Mae gave instruction for Amos to head straight to the Pineridge Church of God. There would only time enough to make the trip. She didn’t need a rehearsal, after all, she’d done this solo so many times before. As these thoughts bounced through Annie Mae’s head Amos was worried over much more pressing matters. Could she make it to the church? Could she make it inside? Could she make it through the service while the rest of the choir members did their parts? Could he get her back to the hospital, and would she go? All these questions but none of them would keep him from getting her to the church. It was, he was convinced, what she was still breathing for.
One question was soon answered. Amos and Annie Mae made it to the church. As he was arranging her wheelchair his grandson Sonny rushed over to help. Between the two of them they were able to lift Annie Mae from the truck and place her gently into the chair, oxygen bottle, tubes, and all. Both of them were relieved but neither could hide their worry that Annie Mae would be so greatly disappointed once inside and she would surely realize that she simply could not breathe, let alone sing. She seemed so confident and content, but then Annie Mae was always content when she was at her church. All the bickering and politics of the church were lost on Annie Mae. Others less pure in heart could and would worry about those things. Annie Mae was there to worship the Lord. Nothing more, or less. He would see her through this night, she was sure.
Annie Mae’s faith was tested in a way she never expected. The choir, sure that she would not be there this evening, had made other arrangements and were assembled in their respective places before she arrived. It was just as well. Try as she might there was no way she could leave the chair she rolled in on. The church was full since they’d arrived just minutes before the program was to start. As usual the church was packed for Christmas Eve. All sorts of sinners found time to make it to church on this most holy of nights. Folks who worshipped only a Sunday or two of the year, maybe Easter and a few others could be depended on for the Christmas program. Even old man Spitzer would be there, dirty as ever, and he’d bring along his nasty scowl to keep others at bay. It would seem that even he would shower and shave for Christmas. The only seats left with enough room for the wheel chair, the oxygen bottle, Annie Mae, Sonny, and Amos were in the back row all the way against the back wall, just inside the foyer where the ushers would normally sit, and on this night, the only night of the year he came to church, old man Spitzer. He looked at Annie Mae with his normal scowl as she was wheeled in, and she looked at him, and smiled. In fact she was the only person in the Pineridge Church of God who had ever shown him any kindness at all, not that he deserved it.
As it had for so many years before the Christmas program started with a song by the choir. Several Christmas standards were sang before Mary made her entrance, obviously heavy with child, followed closely by a concerned but attentive Joseph. They were yet again turned away at the inn, but found a space in the manger. The three wise men showed up on cue with their gifts. The baby Jesus slept through most of the proceedings, but it was time for his feeding so he did what hungry babies do. Finally all was well in the manger and the time had come for ‘Silent Night’. The choir shifted nervously in their places knowing that Annie Mae was amongst them, even though she sat silently in the last pew short of being out the door. The preacher implored each member of the church to take the hand of the one next to them, which they all happily did, all the way back to the last pew. Annie Mae looked at the old man sitting next to her. His clothes were dirty and his hands were calloused. His hair was matted and she was sure he had lice. She wasn’t sure where he lived but she was sure there was no indoor plumbing. Still, without hesitation, she took his hand. He reached over, and for the first time in many years, held a lady’s hand. The music minister raised his hand to lead them and the congregation was as quiet as a mouse, save for one dirty old man.
For the first time since he’d stepped foot in the Pineridge Church of God, old man Spitzer spoke inside the church. In a voice that began shaky, but built in intensity with each word, the old man stood and addressed the assembly.
“Excuse me folks. I know that most of you don’t appreciate me being here and I don’t blame you. I come in here dirty and offer this church nothing in return. Truth is I have nothing to offer. I’ve lived a hard life and I’ve done most of what I’ve been sent here to do, but this lady sitting next to me still has something on her list. She came here tonight to sing a song for you folks. I think we should give her a chance.”
Without exception, everyone in the congregation is looking at the old man and wondering what to do. Annie Mae could barely make her way into the church. How could she possibly sing? The old man could see what was going through their minds and decided to get things going. As he stood on shaky knees, in his place at the rear of the church, still holding Annie Mae’s hand, he began to sing,
“Silent night,
Holy night.”
No one in the church that night had any reason to expect what they were hearing. The old man’s voice was a mix of beautifully balanced melody and love. The church needed a baritone in the choir and it seemed to the preacher that their prayers had been answered, but he stopped after only those first four words, and beckoned Annie Mae to rise. It was, after all, her song to sing. As she did he led her to the center aisle and released her. For the first time ever in the Pineridge Church of God, old man Spitzer was seen to smile.
“Folks, this lady came here tonight to give you folks a gift for Christmas. Each of you know that she has never asked anything of any of you, but tonight she needs something even though she will not ask it. Please, while each of you are still holding hands, ask that Annie Mae be given the gift of giving.”
Some folks in the assembly didn’t know what to make of what they were seeing and hearing, but some, a few, just enough of them understood and asked that Annie Mae be allowed to give her gift to them.
Annie Mae walked slowly down the center aisle of the old church and started to sing as she walked,
“Silent night,
Holy night,”
Her voice was weak and after the first line she gasped for breath. Everyone in the congregation held theirs as she clung to a pew and took another deep breath.
“All is calm,
All is bright”.
By the end of the second line it seemed that Annie Mae might actually be able to sing a bit of the song she was known for.
“Round yon virgin,
Mother and child”
Annie Mae had now taken her place at the head of the church, in front of the choir, and looked out amongst the assembled friends, neighbors, and relatives. Content that yet once more she was entitled to give them her gift of Christmas, her voice found firm footing, and without a sound system needed she eased into the next lines.
“Holy infant,
So tender and mild”
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.”
Sitting silently in the back pew, her wheelchair and oxygen bottle forgotten by his side, Amos Jones watched as his life’s love took control, and rejoiced as she gave them all the gift she loved to give. Moving into the next few lines with nothing but her voice to be heard the rafters in the church began to resonate with the words,
“Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born”,
Of course no one in the church left their seat to see, but it is said that at this moment the sun winked at the moon, and the stars in the sky blinked to her tune. Never before had Annie Mae sang the song with such passion and strength, and when she finished she proudly walked to the last pew to join Amos and Sonny, neither of whom knew what to expect next. Together they all three held hands and sat to listen to the preacher wrap up the night’s service.
“Folks tonight we have surely been blessed. We have witnessed a great gift. It is a sign for all of us to give all that we can give, so when we pass the plate tonight, dig deep.”
No one in the church was listening to the preacher, but that didn’t stop him from preaching. Forgotten to most Sonny looked for old man Spitzer to thank him for what he’d done. The old man was gone but no one remembered seeing him leave. Collectively the congregation decided to be a bit nicer to the old man, just in case.
Amos, take me home please.”
“Anna Mae, I think we ought to get you back to the hospital. You may have had a little rally here tonight but you are anything but well.”
“Amos, I am as well as I’m ever going to be, and I doubt if I’ll ever see another sunrise, but if that’s to be the case I’d much rather end my days in my own home with my own family. There’s nothing more they can do for me at the hospital. Just please take me home.”
Amos knew there was no use pleading his case, and he also knew that his bride was right. No use in going back to the hospital. May as well go home. At least there he could hold her in his arms as long as he wanted. Not much was said as the old truck bumped and rattled along the familiar road. It was getting cold and the weatherman said it might rain, or even snow. It had been a while since they’d seen snow for Christmas. That would be nice. The heater in the truck was keeping ahead of the leaks and both Amos and Anna Mae were nice and warm. Soon enough Amos turned off the paved road and the old truck pitched and swayed to the familiar drive leading to their home of many years. As he’d done so many times before he parked beside the house and walked around, opened the door, and helped Anna Mae out. Holding his arm she walked inside, not sure if she was helping him or he was helping her.
“Amos, if it’s alright with you, I’m not ready to go to bed just yet. I’d like to sit out on the porch and watch the snow fall for a spell.”
“Whatever you’d like dear. I’ll put a pot of coffee on if you’d like.”
Coffee sounded good, but on second thought she decided instead, “How about some hot cocoa? And do we have any Christmas cookies?”
“Yes I do believe there are a few left. I’ll get the cocoa heated up.”
Amos wasn’t much at home in the kitchen, but he could manage. For the last few months it was mostly left up to him to do the cooking. They didn’t starve, but he couldn’t dare to match Anna Mae. Soon enough though he had the hot drinks ready, along with a hand full of cookies. Again, hand in hand, they made it to the porch and settled into the swing. Amos threw the quilt over them and they sat for a while sipping on their cocoa and nibbling on cookies. It was blowing snow pretty good now but they were warm in each other’s arms under the quilt. After a while Amos felt Anna Mae’s head grow heavy on his shoulder and he knew she’d dropped off to sleep. He wasn’t far behind. And they began to dream……..
“Honey, who’s that at the door?”
“I’ll get it. Oh my, it’s Mr. Spitzer. Won’t you come in? Merry Christmas to you sir.”
“Thank you Amos.”
Clean shaven Mr. Spitzer seemed to glow as he entered the house. He smiled warmly at both Amos and Anna Mae and moved towards the kitchen table.
“Please, sit and make yourself at home,” Anna Mae said.
“Don’t mind if I do, but I can only stay a short while.”
“What’s the rush?” Amos asked.
“No rush really my friend, but Anna Mae has a date to keep, and I’m here to help her find the way.”
Amos understood, and so did Anna Mae. As they looked at old man Spitzer they could see only kindness in his eyes. No reason to be afraid.
“When you are ready Anna Mae, just take my hand. I’ll lead you there.”
Anna Mae knew that she would never really be ready, but she also knew she had to go. She stood and turned to Amos who was already standing waiting for her. They embraced for a long while, how long can’t be measured or known. As she turned to go Amos made a promise.
“I’ll be with you soon.”
Anna Mae responded, “Don’t be in any rush. I’ll wait. You’ve got lots left to do before you follow me.”
And with those words Anna Mae took old man Spitzer’s hand yet again, and seemed to fade away.
Amos began to shiver a bit from the cold and woke with a start. Anna Mae felt heavy on his shoulder and his arm had gone to sleep. That dream sure felt real but he needed to get Anna Mae to bed before both of them froze, but as he looked into her face he realized that she would never look back, or smile, or laugh, or sing again, at least not in this world. She had been taken home just the way she wanted to go, in his arms. Amos sat on the porch for a long while, holding her and remembering so many good times until the sun was just beginning to light the sky in the east, and then, unless he was still dreaming, she waved from the path beside the road, and wished him a Merry Christmas.