Saints Among Us

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  A child’s hand shot into the air. For the next few minutes, Louise reviewed the words to the songs. When she was satisfied, she went to the piano at the front of the room. “Quiet,” she called. “I’m going to start.”

  The rehearsal went well, in Louise’s opinion. She considered herself a strict taskmaster, but still she thought the children had done nicely. They were ready for tomorrow.

  Later that afternoon, Alice drove to June’s house.

  June had returned from her son’s home the previous evening and was enthusiastic when Alice suggested getting together with Shelby. “Oh, it’s good to see you,” June cried as Alice got out of her car. She rushed down her front walk, her short blonde hair flying around her head, and embraced Alice. “Just look at you! All dressed up with your hair washed and a little touch of lip gloss and real shoes.”

  Alice was laughing. “I never thought I’d see the day when tan slacks and a heavy navy sweater were dressy.”

  June indicated the simple skirt and blouse she was wearing beneath her quilted jacket. “I realized this is the first time in almost three weeks I have worn a skirt. It doesn’t feel right,” she confessed.

  “I’ve missed you,” Alice said. “I’ve missed camp. I’ve missed all our friends.”

  “Me too,” June said. “I’m afraid I bored my children silly talking about Camp Compassion.”

  “My sisters have been good listeners,” Alice told her friend, “but I don’t want to challenge their patience.”

  “Hello, you two!” Shelby Riverly climbed out of a small sedan she had parked behind Alice’s car.

  “Hello,” June and Alice called together.

  “Come on in,” June said, and the three women went up the pretty brick walk and into June’s little house. It was not exactly a cottage, but that was what came to Alice’s mind. June had a green thumb, and all spring and summer the house was surrounded by beautiful swaths of colorful flowers. Even now, in early December, she still had some chrysanthemums and ornamental cabbage lending color to the brown landscape. At one side of the yard stood a lovely juniper. On the other a cypress swayed in a gentle breeze.

  A wreath of pretty boughs graced her dark-green front door. It bore clusters of dark-red berries and a huge red bow.

  June already had done her Christmas decorating inside as well. She had put up an artificial tree and decorated it in a Victorian motif, with dusty pink, shiny glass spheres and tiny ivory crocheted ornaments. Alice made a mental note to mention the Victorian tree to her sisters. Beneath it, an HO-scale train ran in a circle through a little village. The whole set was nestled on fluffy white cotton that gave the appearance of snow.

  When Alice complimented her on her energy in having decorated already, June thanked her, then laughed. “Those trains are not for my entertainment. My grandson is crazy about railroads. He says he wants to be an engineer when he grows up. This set belonged to my grandfather, and someday I’ll pass it on to Paulie. Please,” she added, “have a seat. I made us some hot chocolate and Christmas cookies. They’re low-calorie,” she added solemnly, and both Alice and Shelby chuckled.

  After the initial flurry of small talk and passing around refreshments, Shelby said, “I have something for you two.” She bent and began digging around in the enormous shoulder bag that Alice recalled from the first time they met. “Joe e-mailed me. He said you mentioned that you rarely use e-mail, and he wanted you to have these. I told him I’d print them out for you.” She handed Alice an envelope that felt too thick and heavy to be a sheet or two of paper, then handed a similar package to June.

  Alice opened the flap and drew out the contents. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, Shelby, how thoughtful. Thank you so much.”

  “This is going to make me cry.” June was as moved as Alice was.

  Joe had sent pictures, which Shelby printed. Alice slowly examined them, touched by the gesture. “Look, June! Here we are trying to put up our tent. Thank heavens Mark was there to help us. And this one was taken at intake one night. Let’s see, it’s the little Yorkie, so it must have been my first night there.”

  “Here we are at Bible study,” June added, “and we certainly look a little worse for the wear!”

  “I have one of those too,” Alice said. “And look at this.” She shook her head as she pointed to the picture, even though she knew Shelby must have seen them already. “I had no idea someone was taking pictures. This was the day Riley fell off the roof.”

  “What? That picture is of Riley? Was he hurt?”

  The photo showed Alice kneeling on the ground and bending over someone whose face was obscured by the bush that several of the men were cutting away. She was wrapping his arm, which she recalled doing to stabilize him for transport. “He broke his arm,” Alice told her. “He fell into this bush—which is no longer there—and he was really lucky because it broke his fall. He could have been hurt much worse.” She looked at Shelby and smiled. “By the time we left, he was rushing around like he always does.”

  “You know,” Shelby said, “it’s so odd to see people I know in these photos interspersed with so many people I don’t know. It is hard to believe how many volunteers keep arriving.”

  “It was quite a revolving door,” June agreed.

  “I found it so inspiring,” Alice told them. “How often do you see God’s work in the world in such a concrete way? I hope the camp continues to get more volunteers. I spoke with a woman who seemed as if she might commit to making a trip.” She smiled, reaching over and squeezing Shelby’s hand. “I’m spreading the word, just as you did for me.”

  “That’s good,” Shelby said. “I wish I could go back. But I can’t leave my children again. My mother-in-law is a saint, but her health isn’t that great, and I can’t ask her to watch two small children for a week or more.”

  “I’m struggling with that feeling too,” Alice told her friends. “Part of me recognizes that I’m needed here, both at the hospital and at the inn. However, another part of me feels compelled to go back. It’s almost as if I don’t quite fit here anymore.”

  June smiled sadly. “Exactly. An experience like the one we had alters you forever. The only other people who can understand are others who shared it.”

  Shelby nodded, her eyes sympathetic.

  It was an enormous relief to Alice to hear someone else voice the feelings with which she had been struggling. “Will it get better?” she asked Shelby. “Will I stop feeling tearful and heartbroken soon? I just can’t seem to stop thinking of it.”

  “I can’t answer that. Each of us deals with the feelings in a unique way. I have seen this among the friends I’ve stayed in touch with. But I believe that if you follow the pattern most people do, the compulsion to return will fade in a few weeks. It just takes time to find the ‘old you’ again.”

  “Thank you, Shelby,” Alice said. “I’ve needed that reassurance.”

  “We absolutely need to get more comfortable using e-mail,” June said to Alice. “Ellen and several other people gave me their e-mail addresses. I don’t know about you, but it would make me feel better to be in contact with them.”

  Alice nodded. “I suppose I can manage e-mail. I don’t want to lose touch with Ellen, and I know younger people today don’t write letters anymore.”

  “Way to be proactive.” Shelby smiled. “So tell me all about your trip now. I want to hear every little detail.”

  The following morning, the sisters walked home for Sunday dinner after the morning service drew to a close. All of their guests had checked out, and no more would arrive until Tuesday.

  By suppertime, it was obvious that Louise was somewhat uneasy about that evening’s performance. Jane cooked roast beef accompanied by twice-baked potatoes sprinkled with chopped chives for supper, but Louise barely could eat a bite.

  “It’s not like you to be nervous before a performance,” Alice said as they put on their coats before heading over to the chapel shortly before seven.

  “It’s not my own performin
g I worry about!” Louise said with a half laugh. “It’s those two dozen unpredictable little people.”

  Jane patted her sister’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s going to go just fine. You said the dress rehearsal yesterday morning went well.”

  “It did,” said Louise, “but I have learned that one never knows.”

  When they arrived at the chapel, Alice and Jane went to sit in their usual pew, while Louise headed straight for the Assembly Room, which was serving as the dressing room for the Santa Lucia ceremony.

  As seven o’clock approached, the chapel filled with many of the same people who regularly attended on Sunday mornings, plus a few additional family members and friends of the participants.

  The lights dimmed.

  Then, from the back of the church, the faraway sound of high, sweet voices singing was heard. Alice realized the children had begun singing as they left the Assembly Room for the front door of the church. The sound swelled as they drew closer, and the words became clear:

  Hark! Through the darksome night

  Sounds come a winging:

  Lo! ’tis the Queen of Light

  Joyfully singing.

  Clad in her garment white,

  Wearing her crown of light,

  Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!

  Deep in the northern sky

  Bright stars are beaming;

  Christmas is drawing nigh

  Candles are gleaming.

  Welcome thou vision rare,

  Lights glowing in thy hair.

  Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!

  Light pierced the darkness of the chapel. One by one, a stately line of white-robed children processed up the aisle, sweetly singing the words of the song. They all wore crowns of tinsel, and the girls wore tinsel sashes with long, shining tails. The girls held small arrangements of greenery, each with a battery-powered candle rising from its center. The boys carried long wands with glittering, iridescent stars at the tips. The stars caught the brightness from the candles and reflected it in myriad points of light.

  The children formed a choir on the steps of the altar, the smallest first with a gradually taller group moving in and filling the space behind them. Finally, a tall, slender young girl wearing a red sash over her white robe came up the aisle of the darkened church. On her head was a crown of greens with four glowing candles that made the girl’s face and hair radiant. She carried a basket lined with a white cloth and filled with shiny red apples and some of the sweet-smelling saffron buns Jane had made.

  As the children finished their song, the girl with the red sash stepped forward. “I represent Santa Lucia, or Saint Lucy,” she said. “Welcome to the first Grace Chapel Santa Lucia service.”

  Another girl, one of Alice’s ANGELs, moved to the lectern, where she read a traditional story about the origins of the legend of Santa Lucia. She then explained the customs of the people of Sweden.

  Next, two older girls came forward. Both of them were among Alice’s ANGELs. The first sang the opening verse of a song a cappella in a pure, clear soprano:

  The night goes with weighty step

  round yard and hearth,

  round earth, the sun departs

  and leaves the woods brooding.

  There in our dark house,

  appears with lighted candles

  Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

  Then she faded back and the second girl stepped forward to sing another verse:

  The night goes great and mute

  now hear it swings

  in every silent room

  murmurs as if from wings.

  Look! At our threshold stands

  white-clad with lights in her hair

  Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

  At the conclusion of the second verse, the other girl came forward again. In unison, the two girls sang a third and final verse together:

  The darkness shall soon depart

  from the earth’s valleys

  thus she speaks

  a wonderful word to us.

  The day shall rise anew

  from the rosy sky.

  Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

  Next, three children approached the lectern. Stepping onto a stool that allowed him to be seen over the top, the first boy said, “The theme of light is very important to our Christian faith. Hear the Word of God in the following passages from the Bible.”

  The second child stepped up. She turned to a new page in the Bible and read from Genesis 1:3: “‘And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.’”

  And finally, another child ascended to the lectern.

  “Psalm 18:24–25, 28, 30: ‘The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in his sight. To the faithful, you show yourself faithful…You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light…As for God, his way is perfect; the word of the LORD is flawless. He is a shield for all who take refuge in him.’”

  As the little boy stepped back into his place in the group, Louise began to play the piano. The children separated into two groups, one on the left, one on the right. On Louise’s signal, they all sang together:

  Santa Lucia, thy light is glowing

  Through darkest winter night, comfort bestowing.

  Dreams float on dreams tonight,

  Comes then the morning light,

  Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia.

  As they began to sing it through a second time, only the group of children on the right side sang. Halfway through, the second group of children began, and Alice realized the selection was a round that created a beautiful harmony. At the conclusion of the round, the children’s voices merged again into one melody. Marit Lindars, the Lucia, walked to the lectern and read what was arguably the best-known passage about light from the book of Matthew:

  “‘You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven’” (Matthew 5:14–16).

  Then she stepped to the center of the altar again. Taking one of the saffron rolls from her basket, she held it aloft. “You are invited to the Assembly Room at the conclusion of this ceremony to partake of several traditional foods associated with the Santa Lucia celebration in Sweden.”

  She replaced the roll in her basket. Once again, Louise played an introduction on the piano. The children began to sing one final time:

  The night treads heavily

  around yards and dwellings

  In places unreached by sun,

  the shadows brood

  Into our dark house she comes,

  bearing lighted candles,

  Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia.

  They slowly filed out, taking all light with them and leaving the chapel in darkness for one long, humming moment before Karin, at the back of the church, turned up the lights and the congregation began to buzz enthusiastically about the remarkable experience they had just enjoyed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Louise! That was fabulous!” Jane and Alice converged on their elder sister enthusiastically in the Assembly Room at the conclusion of the Santa Lucia service.

  Louise was flushed and smiling. “Tell Karin that,” she said modestly. “She was the one who came up with the idea.”

  “It really was marvelous,” Alice said. “Where did you find all that music?”

  “Most of it came from that book I found at the Potterston library. And the rest came from the online sources Jane helped me locate.”

  Louise suddenly fell silent, her face losing its happy glow.

  Puzzled, Alice glanced around—and saw their aunt across the room. Alice looked at Louise’s downcast face and then over at Ethel’s furrowed brow.

  “You know,” she said to Jane in an undertone, “I realize that I am known as a peaceful person, but I am just about
ready to knock two heads together.”

  “May I help?” Jane asked facetiously.

  Alice began to stride across the room, but before she could take more than a few steps, Ethel came walking toward the three sisters. She held out a hand to Louise.

  “You did a fine job putting the Santa Lucia service together, Louise. What a delightful addition to the Christmas season.”

  Louise looked surprised. More than surprised, Alice thought, astonished. She clasped Ethel’s hand and allowed the older woman to pull her into a hug. “Thank you, Aunt Ethel.”

  “Louise…” Ethel hesitated. “I mistook your desire to help me with the craft show for interference. I guess I was just so determined to do it my way that I wasn’t willing to accept suggestions, no matter how well intended. I apologize for hurting your feelings with angry words.”

  “Oh, Aunt Ethel,” Louise said, “don’t apologize. I know my suggestions can sound awfully heavy-handed. My only excuse is that it seemed like such a big project, and I was so worried it would be too much to put together in such a short time. But from what I can see, you have done a fine job of organizing it. I, too, am sorry for our misunderstanding.”

  Ethel’s face softened as she looked at her three nieces. “I know I drive you crazy sometimes,” she said with a smile, “but wouldn’t life be boring without me?”

  The Tuesday following the Lucia service, Alice worked a day shift. As she was letting herself into the house in midafternoon, the telephone rang.

  “Grace Chapel Inn, Alice speaking. May I help you?”

  “Alice Howard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just the person I had hoped to find! This is Dr. Spence.”

  “Hello, Dr.’ Oh! Do you have news for me?”

  “I do.” The vet’s voice was sober. “The tumor is malignant, as we suspected. However, it does not appear to have spread. I biopsied the areas around the edges of the excision, and I believe we have gotten all the diseased tissue. Only time will tell, but your little dog should have a number of good senior years ahead of her.”