“I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” (instrumental)
Listen to “Finding Christmas Love”
The sun hid behind the clouds, distinct shadows disappeared, and all was a world of gray. Sense of time seemed to slip, slip away. And the rain dropped, dropped, dropped.
And suddenly, out of the gray, gray troposphere, written on every cloud, proclaimed by every droplet, the letters appeared: “L-O-V-E.” It was strange that implications of something so good and beautiful and happy should come during such a dreary day and the gloominess that permeated the air. Mockery, thought Julie bitterly, sheer mockery. Is there such a thing as love? What is love? Was it that mutual attraction Julie and Allen once shared?
“Love,” she grunted half aloud. “What does that have to do with now—with this Christmastime? Allen doesn’t love me—” Suddenly she stopped as she thought emphatically, So what?!
The ground shook as the thunder roared and the lightning streaked across the sky. Torrents broke loose from the angry black clouds. But Julie’s new concept of love did not fade. Through the rumble and rush, Julie growingly felt the spirit of Christmas—the spirit of love. There was Momma’s love for the family in the big, big Christmas dinner she always fixed, Miss Blossom’s love in listening to off-key carols and letting schoolroom windows get cluttered with childish decorations, love in the gifts—love in the lovely white Bible from Allen… There were always the pretty cards and festive packages, holly and berries and mistletoe, the scent of pine trees and beauty of the snow, the sound of bells, the glitter of the city, and carols drifting through the quiet night. But most important was the deeper meaning, the essence of Christmas—love. Each scene tumbled through Julie’s mind—her family, the schoolroom, Eddy and Billy Kingston, cookies and caroling, Mexico and a white Bible and Allen, dear Allen….
Julie closed her eyelids, and a contented smile crossed her face.
God had given her Christmas, every Christmas she had known. He had left each lovely memory to be remembered, to be treasured. He had intended that she remember the love that was given each Christmas, from the very first Christmas when He gave the supreme Gift, right on through each of Julie’s Christmases and every beautiful memory of love. She knew, now, that she must grow up and learn to return this love. Suddenly she felt a warm surge of appreciation of the expressions of love she had received—from Momma, the relatives, Miss Blossom, Eddy, Billy, Norma Kingston, Mrs. Donaldson, the kids at church, Casey Dunlap and the chorus, Sandra, Mrs. Macintosh, even Allen, but especially God.
In the coming years, would she not remember this year and the love and other good things it had brought? Somehow, in remembering the Riverdale Youth Club’s banquet, she would forget that Allen took Riti. She would lose the vision of rival Sylvia Hawkins when she recalled how she always ate lunch with her pal Marshall James while the muffled strains of “White Christmas” and “Winter Wonderland” floated through the noisy school cafeteria.
Now, as suddenly as it had come, the storm ceased. And the sun, shining through the moist air, created a rainbow. Julie saw it first over in the apricot orchard—her Christmas rainbow, symbol of love….
The next morning, the two girls walked down the street on their way to the banquet hall. “Oh, Julie, I’m so excited!” cried Sandra. “I guess it’s just the atmosphere, so near to Christmas and all. It’s the banquet tonight and Christmas Eve on Sunday with LeRoy….” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes,” Julie agreed, smiling, “Christmastime is a very gay season.”
“Well,” said Sandra, “I’m glad you’re a little more optimistic this morning. Ah, Julie, how are you going to spend Christmas this year?” There was an expectant, teasing twinkle in Sandra’s voice.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Julie shrugged. “Probably have dinner with Momma and Grandpa Philip and cousin Sue and Uncle Jake and all the rest of the relatives. We’ll probably go for a ride in the country Christmas afternoon. I don’t know,” Julie shrugged again. “It really doesn’t matter as long as everybody has love—the Christmas spirit—down deep in their hearts.”
Sandra cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Very good, Julie. But what about Allen?”
“Oh, I guess he’ll have a nice Christmas, too,” Julie answered with a twinkle. At once she grew very serious. “Sandra, I don’t need to tell you how much in love I have been with Allen. He was everything a girl could want—and more. But—” She bit her lip and shook her head. She was silent only a moment, and then she tossed her dark curls back and shrugged lightly. “But love is something very mysterious. Sometimes it’s so real, but so intangible. It’s like Christmas. For some, it comes for but a brief, beautiful moment, then—then it’s gone. But it’s gone only because people can’t or won’t hold on to it.”
“Allen couldn’t hold on to it, but you’re holding it—for Allen?” Sandra ventured.
“No,” Julie replied, surprising Sandra. “No,” she repeated, slowly and deliberately, “I’m not in love with Allen Macintosh.”
The words stunned Sandra! “Wha—wh-why?”
“Love responds only to love, Sandra, and not to hate. Allen hurt me, but it’s all over now. Christmas means more than sentimentality.”
Suddenly Julie stopped. There, above Sandra’s meadow, beyond the misty hills, Julie saw it again—her symbol of Christmas love. Sandra hadn’t seen it yet, and she looked at Julie in silent wonder.
“Sandra,” she said with a quiet smile, “I caught it yesterday—that rainbow you told me to stop chasing. It encircled the moon last night and has left a beautiful glow in my heart.”
“Julie,” Sandra giggled, “are you all right?”
Julie chuckled, but she smiled in serious happiness. “It’s just that I’ve found the true meaning of Christmas—love. Allen’s love was one kind of love, but it’s not the only kind. I’ve been so blind and selfish, not letting myself be happy just because Allen doesn’t ‘love’ me this Christmas. We can express love in so many ways, as the past years have proven. But this year I’m giving love to my own dear family. Maybe next year—and the years after that—love will be with Allen again, I don’t know. Maybe not.” Julie’s eyes still fastened on the rainbow. “Maybe someday, somewhere—at an exotic dinner, by an ancient cathedral, or on a college campus—I’ll find the man of my dreams. He’ll be all of Allen—and more. He’ll bring love and laughter and music into my life. Maybe”—she smiled slightly—“he’ll even be an only child like me.” She stood still and looked at her friend. “Sandra, maybe it’ll happen at Christmastime, and that rainbow will be in the sky.”
“Julie,” Sandra said, looking at her in amazement, “you have caught a rainbow—the rainbow of Christmas love.”
“But even until that magic day, whenever it happens, love will fill every Christmas. That’s what Christmas is all about!”
< Christmas Memories | Epilogue: Julie Scott Davidson >