Joy, Peace, Hope, Love: A Christmas Advent Collection

By Robert M. Leger

This Chirstmas Advent collection is 28 stories, one for each day of the Advent season. The stories focus on the themes of Joy, Peace, Hope and Love.

 

This little booklet is a gift. I trust you will be flooded, overwhelmed, and snowed in by memories and wishes of Christmases past, present and future.
Merry Christmas.


Excerpt from one story, Guitar Man:
The cold wind drove the rain through the streets, splashing angrily off towering concrete and glass pretenders to the throne of money and icy hearts.
Curtis D'Angelo futilely turned up the collar of his faded, thin overcoat that used to be gray but was now more brown. He had a hat, a Dodger's hat he'd picked up somewhere. Threadbare at the rim, it caused tiny waterfalls in front of his face. Curtis paid no attention. He pressed against the building, somebody's Savings and Loan, working his way around to the alley, and there down a block or two. There was a restaurant whose back door had a little awning, and sometimes there was scraps.
The others let him have that one – it was Curt's Place.
He knew there wasn't going to be any money today from people dropping singles, sometimes fives, into his guitar case while he played.
Truth was, he was pretty good. Or anyway, he had been, back when. Back before. Back before … you know … Sheila left … before the bottle. He'd told himself her leaving was first, then the alcohol, but maybe it was the other way around. Now he mostly wondered … what was all this for?
The rain showed no sign of mercy as sheets swept the roads and sidewalks. The few people who dared out, dashed under big umbrellas to waiting cars, or sometimes to the dark, dryer, subway tunnels.
The advertising lights behind the glass sparkled like Christmas lights, and they were surrounded by real Christmas lights, but the gray rain washed a curtain over the windows and Curtis didn't appreciate the intended festiveness.
It had in fact been some time since he noticed things like Christmas lights, St. Patrick's Day clovers, Fourth of July banners. Someone would remind him of the current season and he'd try to work in a song or two that fit; sometimes the swarms of workers and tourist bees were bigger. Whatever, as long as they dropped a few bucks in the case.
…
He sat back down on the bed, leaning against the wall. Night noises, cars, horns, some people talking – he heard as background. To him, it was a quiet night.
Like so many others.
But then he heard a new sound, a voice. He couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, only it was outside. A woman was singing.
He went to the window and saw the rain had stopped, but he could tell the wind still whistled between the buildings.
The woman was singing a Christmas Song, The First Noel.
How could that be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert M. Leger
• Release date: Oct 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201901646

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Robert M. Leger

2nd Edition Copyright © 2021

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion of it may not be reproduced or used in any form without express written permission, except for brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing: 2020

ISBN: 9798576596461

Independently published.

Table of Contents

Introduction

JOY

Tony in Traffic

The Bridge

Martha

Dream

Munro in the Storm

The King

Ginger and Addison

Peace

Butter

Car

Reindeer Sounds

Super Hero (SH)

Run

Cabin

Ginger and Mabel

Hope

Doc’s House

The Professor

Bread

Guitar Man

Storm

Water Bottle

Mabel

Love

Gargoyles

Heat

Johnny

Camels

The Bus

A Grand Thing

DeeDee and David

Picture credits

Introduction

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Christmas is a crazy time of year. Everyone tells us and we all believe that it’s special, memorable, magic.

Hundreds of stories have been written about the winter holiday. Battle lines have even been drawn between those who insist we must remember the reason for the season, and those who think anything can happen just because we all wish so much for things to happen.

C.S. Lewis famously told of a cursed place where it was always winter but never Christmas, until one day ...

You can choose those nouns you like to go along with the season. I’ve chosen Joy, Peace, Hope and Love.

This little booklet is a gift. I trust you will be flooded, overwhelmed, and snowed in by memories and wishes of Christmases past, present and future.

Merry Christmas.

Introduction to 2nd Edition

The first edition had four stories, tracing one family (now the last story in each section). This edition has a story for every day of the four weeks of Advent, and features many families, many viewpoints.

(Hint: if you start on November 28th, you should end on Christmas. Of course, you can also start any time you want.)

I hope it still stirs Joy, Peace, Hope and Love in you.

JOY

Tony in Traffic

The joy of the LORD is my strength .

Tony slapped the visor up too hard, not mad at it, but mad. Stupid boss. Stupid work. Stupid traffic.

It wasn’t raining, but it looked like it was thinking about it. What little sun still shone behind the skyscraper canyon had to surrender to the thickening clouds. The street lights glared down on the cars, like they were annoyed these bugs were infesting the pavement at their feet.

He hadn’t caught a light yet, and it didn’t look like he would. He glanced out the corner of his eye to the driver on his left. The guy was working a cigarette in his mouth like it was a sucker. The cloud inside his car began to obscure his grimace.

Tony turned back just in time to stomp on the brake. The brake lights on the car ahead flared. All the junk on the seat next to him, his briefcase and his coat, slid to the floor. He cursed.

He punched the radio buttons, but the first two stations were commercials. Then there came some guy ranting about something. Tony only heard the tone before stabbing at another button. Blaring music from some idiot screaming about how life – especially his woman – had done him wrong. Tony snapped it off. Quiet was better.

Then the cars stopped altogether. A half a block ahead he could see the light go green, but nobody moved. He waited. Maybe it was just the lag. But no, everybody stayed still. Someone honked, then someone else joined.

But ahead, near the front of the pack, Tony thought he saw someone get out of his car.

Uh oh, he thought. Road rage!

But the guy, dressed like him, an average office worker, just stood next to his car, staring ahead. Tony couldn’t figure it out, when someone else, one or two cars back also got out, on both sides, driver and passenger.

The honking died out. Before long, it looked like everyone had stepped out, so Tony turned off the engine and opened the door, trying to follow everyone’s gaze.

Then people started moving forward, abandoning their cars. He almost swore again, but caught himself. He thought he saw, ahead of the people moving forward, a flashing red light.

He moved with the crowd. In a hundred feet they were stopped up, like when a log drops in a river and stops the flow. They were in a semi-circle and above their heads and reflecting in some of their faces Tony could see the red light flashing.

He worked his way through the group, no one stopped him. Then he saw. A car was laying kitty-wompus upside down, with busted glass sprayed across the road. The doors were open and rescue workers, fire fighters, were pulling someone out of the mess. It was a man, unconscious from what Tony could tell, with blood on his forehead and down one arm. A group of four or five rescue people were kneeling on the ground, looking at something in their midst.

Tony moved forward some more. It was a kid on a stretcher.

One guy was adjusting a mask on the kid’s face, another one was doing chest compressions. A woman, Tony guessed she might be the paramedic, held out her hand to the chest compression guy to stop so she could put a stethoscope on the kid’s chest. After a few seconds, the lady shook her head and nodded to the other guy to start the compressions again.

Tony could see it was a little girl. It flashed through his mind – Did that make it worse?

A sound to his left caught his attention. It was an older woman, hands held in horror to her face, who was sobbing.

Tony turned the other way. Every face was shocked, grieving, tears hovering.

Someone on that side, to his right, an old man, dropped to his knees. Tony was shocked, confused. Was the guy hurt? Was he having a heart attack?

But the man just bowed his head and held his hands up in a prayer gesture. Tony didn’t understand.

A man behind the kneeling man put a hand on the kneeling man’s shoulder. Then a woman, a mother, Tony thought, did the same.

To Tony’s amazement, someone on the left went down, bowing their head. Then two more people did.

He stood in silence trying to comprehend. What did that all mean? What did they all mean?

He looked back at the paramedic. She saw only her fellow workers and held out her hand, shaking her head – No.

The other four rescuers leaned back, sighing deeply.

Tony didn’t know why, but he took two steps forward, enough to catch the paramedic’s eye. She stared at him as if to say, Please. It’s not my fault. There’s nothing I can do.

Tony held her gaze, then just swept his hands back to point to the people behind him, on their knees, praying.

The lady paramedic gasped. She suddenly said something to the others and they, shocked at her tone more than anything, turned back to the little girl and began the chest compressions again, leaning in to talk to the little girl.

The longest twenty seconds he had ever known went by in Tony’s life. The little girl arched her back, gasping, shaking. The rescuers leaned in even closer, encouraging her. The lady paramedic, tears running down her cheeks, kissed the girl on the forehead.

The paramedic turned to Tony, then the crowd, and silently mouthed Thank you, as the others loaded the girl into the ambulance.

It was another ten or fifteen minutes before the scene was stabilized. The cops managed to get the busted glass swept off the road, clearing one lane. The cars began to get unstuck, flowing again, though very slowly.

Tony sat in his car, maybe twenty cars back. He, like everyone else, just patiently waited his turn.

The Bridge

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But joy comes in the morning.

Esau set the edge of the saw on the tree and gave a short tug, just enough to give the blade purchase. Three or four more strokes got the groove started and he began to push harder on the blade.

He tried to set a steady rhythm and pressure and began working. His broad-rimmed felt hat kept the direct sun off his face, but it was still hot. He knew he was in for a long day.

After five minutes he’d made a cut half way through and he stopped, wiggling and working the blade back out. He started again a few inches above the first cut, this time cutting down at an angle.

A few trees over, a squirrel barked at him, but Esau ignored it. Someone was always complaining.

He’d walked only a half mile up from the river, flowing swiftly east just below, but the river meandered further on where the land leveled up a bit. His cabin, anyway the start of his cabin, was across the river another half mile. This log, if he could ever get it down, was to be the main portion for his foot bridge across the river. He had it designed in his head, nothing tricky, just a few logs laid across, braced on both ends so it wouldn’t wash away in the rains. It would save him hours from having to go across the slower, shallower river five miles down.

He sawed away, letting his mind wander. A little breeze made the leaves scratch each other above his head, but he was sure his huffing and puffing was scaring away the smaller critters that would have been resting on the forest floor around him.

Well, so be it. Had to be done. They’d return.

The two weeks he’d been there already was enough to set up his camp, a heavy canvas tent with a working table and bench, a do-for-now latrine, the fire ring and of course his chair. It