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The Shoe Box
Copyright © 1995, 2010 by Francine Rivers. All rights reserved.
First printing by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., in 1999 under ISBN 978-0-8423-1901-0.
Cover illustration of shoebox and interior illustrations copyright © 2005 by Linda Graves. All rights reserved.
Cover frame art copyright © by RoselynCarr/iStockphoto. All rights reserved.
Interior illustration of red ornaments copyright © by Hakan Dogan/iStockphoto. All rights reserved. Interior illustration of holly ornaments copyright © by Maljuk/iStockphoto. All rights reserved.
Interior illustration of frames copyright © by RoselynCarr/iStockphoto. All rights reserved.
Author photo copyright © 2003 by Phil Fewsmith. All rights reserved.
Designed by Beth Sparkman
Published in association with the literary agency of Browne & Miller Literary Associates, LLC, 410 Michigan Avenue, Suite 460, Chicago, IL 60605.
“The Shoe Box” was originally published in the anthology Christmas by the Hearth, under ISBN 978-0-8423-0239-5, copyright © 1996 by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois.
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rivers, Francine, date
The shoe box / Francine Rivers.
p. cm.
“The shoe box” was originally published in the anthology “Christmas by the Hearth,” copyright © 1996 by Tyndale House Publishers.
ISBN 0-8423-1901-8
I. Christmas by the hearth. II Title.
PS3568.I83165S46 1999
813′.54—dc21 99-34161
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Revision first published in 2010 under ISBN 978-1-4143-3888-0.
Printed in the United States of America
16 15 14 13 12 11 10
7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
How This Story Came to Be
The Shoe Box
The Christmas Story
(Selected from Matthew 1–2 and Luke 1–2)
How This Story
Came to Be
When I first became a Christian, one of the hardest things for me to do was give my burdens to the Lord. I would worry over all kinds of things. I remember a friend talking about putting prayers in a lunch bag, and that got me thinking. One of the many jobs I had held was that of a secretary, and I remembered the in- and out-boxes. From that memory came the idea of a “God box.” I took an ordinary cardboard container with a lid and covered it with beautiful wrapping paper. Then I cut a slot in the top. Whenever something was bothering me greatly and I couldn’t let it go, I would write out a prayer about it. Then I would tuck the written prayer into the God box. Sometimes my husband and my children would write prayers and tuck them into the box as well. It was amazing to me how this physical exercise helped me give up worries and burdens to the Lord. Every few months I would open the box and read the prayers. What I found was a source of great joy and comfort, for many of the prayers were answered, often in completely unexpected ways.
My God box gave me the idea for “The Shoe Box.” While I put and burdens in my box, I wanted Timmy to put blessings and praises in his box as well. It reminded me that there are all kinds of prayers—worship and praise as well as cries for help. Scripture says the prayers of are the sweet scent of incense to the Lord.
The Shoe Box
Timmy O’Neil came to live with Mary and David Holmes on a cloudy day in the middle of September, two weeks after school started. He was a quiet little six-year-old boy with sorrowful eyes. Not very long afterward, they wondered about the box he carried with him all the time. It was an ordinary shoe box with a red lid and the words Running Shoes printed on one side.
Timmy carried it everywhere he went. When he put it down, it was always where he could see it.
“Should we ask him about it?” Mary said to her husband.
“No. He’ll talk to us about it when he’s ready,” David said, but he was as curious as she was.
Even Mrs. Iverson, the social worker, was curious about the shoe box. She told Mary and David that Timmy had the box when the policeman brought him to the Youth Authority offices. Timmy’s dad was put in prison. His mom had a job, but she didn’t make enough to take proper care of Timmy. A lady in the apartment house where he lived found out he was by himself all day and reported it to the police.
“They brought him to me with one small suitcase of clothes and that shoe box,” Mrs. Iverson said. “I asked him what was inside it, and he said, ‘Things.’ But what things he wouldn’t tell me.”
Even the children at Timmy’s new school were curious about the box. He didn’t put it in his cubbyhole like things the other children brought. He would put it on top of his desk while he did his work.
His first-grade teacher, Mrs. King, was curious, too. “What do you have there, Timmy?”
“My box,” he said.
“What’s in your box?”
“Things,” he said and went on with his arithmetic.
Mrs. King didn’t ask him about the box again. She liked Timmy, and she didn’t want to pry. She told Mary and David that Timmy was a good student. He wasn’t the brightest by far, but he always did his best work. Mrs. King admired that about Timmy. She wrote a note to him about it on one of his math papers. Other students will learn by your example, the note said, and she drew a big smiling face on his paper and gave him a pretty, sparkly star sticker.
Mary Holmes learned that Timmy liked chocolate chip cookies, so she kept the cookie jar full. Timmy would come home from school on the yellow bus and sit at the kitchen table, the box under his chair. Mary always sat with him and asked him about his day while he had milk and cookies.
Timmy asked Mary one day why she and David didn’t have any children of their own. Mary said she had asked God the same question over and over. She said while she waited for an answer, she was thankful to have him.
Every evening when he came home from work, David played catch with Timmy in the backyard. Timmy always brought the box outside with him and set it on the lawn chair where he could see it.
Timmy even took the shoe box with him to Sunday school. He sat between Mary and David, the box in his lap.
When he went to bed at night, the shoe box sat on the nightstand beside his bed.
Timmy got letters from his mother twice a week. Once she sent him ten dollars and a short note from his father. Timmy cried when Mary read it to him because his father said how much he missed Timmy and how sorry he was that he had made such a big mistake. Mary held Timmy on her lap in the rocking chair for a long time.
* * *
CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES
One of my fondest memories is of my mother making chocolate chip cookies. All through my childhood, she would keep the cookie jar full of them. When I grew up and had children of my own, mom would bake chocolate chip cookies just before I would bring our children up to Oregon for a summer visit. The first thing I would do after gr
eeting my mother and father was head for that cookie jar! Yum! And my children were right on my heels.
After my mother and father both passed away, I started baking chocolate chip cookies for our home bible study class. Every Tuesday afternoon, I’m in the kitchen, baking. And every time I do, I think of my mother. There is nothing like the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies to stir sweet memories.
1 cup (2 sticks)
butter, softened
¾ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
2¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
¼ cup heath bar toffee bits
Combine butter, sugars, eggs, and vanilla extract in large bowl. Stir until creamy. Mix baking soda and salt with flour and add to the large bowl. Stir everything together, and add the chocolate and toffee bits. (you can add nuts as well. Chopped pecans, macadamia nuts, or walnuts are best. I’ve also added raisins.)
Drop by spoonfuls onto baking sheet. Bake at 350 degrees until golden brown.
* * *
When David came home, they took Timmy out for a pizza dinner and then to the theater to see an animated movie about a lion. Mary and David both noticed Timmy’s expression of wonder and delight.
When Timmy got off the school bus the next day, he was surprised to find David waiting for him. “Hi, champ,” David said. “I thought I’d come home early and share your special day.” He ruffled Timmy’s hair and walked with him to the house.
When they came in the kitchen door, Mary leaned down and kissed Timmy on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Timmy.”
His eyes widened in surprise as he saw a big box wrapped with pretty paper and tied up with bright-colored ribbons on the kitchen table.
“It’s for you, Timmy,” David said. “You can open it.”
Timmy put his old shoe box carefully on the table and then opened the bigger box with the pretty paper. In it he found a lion just like the one in the movie. Hugging it, he laughed.
Mary turned away quickly and fussed with the candles on the birthday cake so Timmy wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. David noticed and smiled at her. It was the first time she and David had seen Timmy smile or laugh about anything. And it made them very happy.
When Mary put the birthday cake on the table and lit the candles, David took her hand and then Timmy’s and said a prayer of blessing and thanksgiving. “Go ahead, Timmy. Make a wish and blow out the candles.” Timmy didn’t have to think very long about what he wished, and when he blew, not a candle was left burning.
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SHANNON’S FUDGE
My grandmother used to make fudge every Christmas. It’s nice to have my daughter, Shannon, continue the tradition!
3 cups sugar
¾ cup butter
cup evaporated milk
12 oz. Semisweet chocolate chips
7 oz. Jet-Puffed marshmallow crÈme
½ tsp. vanilla
This recipe is fun to put in a shaped pan, such as a tree or stocking. Line the pan with foil, lightly spray with oil, and wipe down. Mix sugar, butter, and evaporated milk in a saucepan. Bring to a rolling boil on medium heat, stirring constantly (I can’t stress this enough: stir. Otherwise, it’ll scorch, and you’ll have to start over). Stirring constantly, boil until thermometer reaches 234 degrees, or until all the sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat. Add vanilla, and marshmallow crème. Mix until the chocolate is melted and the color is consistent. Pour into lined and greased pan to cool. Cool to room temperature before cutting. Store at room temperature.
You can also add other flavorings, such as raspberry or peppermint. Substitute for the vanilla.
* * *
Timmy’s mother came to visit every other week. She and Timmy sat together in the living room. She asked him questions about school and the Holmeses and if he was happy with them. He said he was, but he still missed her. She held him and stroked his hair back from his face and kissed him. She told him she missed him, too, but it was more important that he have a safe place to grow up. “These are nice people, Timmy. You won’t grow up like I did.”
Each time before she left, she always told him to be good and remember what she’d taught him. She picked him up and held him tightly for a long time before she kissed him and put him down again. Timmy was always sad and quiet when she left.
Fall came, and the leaves on the maple tree in the backyard turned brilliant gold. Sometimes Timmy would go outside and sit with his back against the trunk of the tree, his shoe box in his lap, and just watch the leaves flutter in the cool breeze.
Mary’s mother and father came for Thanksgiving. Mary had gotten up very early in the morning and started preparing pies while David stuffed the turkey. Timmy liked Mary’s mother and father. Mary’s mother played Monopoly with him, and her father told him funny and exciting fishing stories.
Friends came to join them for Thanksgiving dinner, and the house was full of happy people. Timmy had never seen so much food on one table before. He tried everything. When dinner was over, David gave him the wishbone. He told Timmy to let it dry and then they’d pull on it to see who would get his wish.
* * *
DECORATING THE TREE
Rick and I love the scent of a real tree, and I love decorating. Every year, when I open the boxes of ornaments, out pour wonderful memories. I hang pretzel-framed photos of grandchildren beside delicate glass and hand-painted German ”bride” ornaments. Rick and I add to our collection when we travel, one ornament to represent each trip-a ceramic sea turtle from Hawaii, a miniature violin from Austria, a buffalo from Wyoming, a shamrock from Ireland. Swedish flags drape pine branches decorated with brass ornaments from Williamsburg and Washington, D.C. We top the tree with a crown of thorns to remind us Jesus came into the world to die for our sins. The baby born in a stable and placed in a manger is the King of kings who reigns forever.
* * *
LIL OGDEN’S PIE CRUST
There is a lady in our church who is famous for her fantastic pies. Every year, we have a pie auction in which the youth raise money for a missions project. Lil Ogden’s pies have gone for as much as seventy-five dollars. She has a servant’s heart and is dedicated to prayer. And she’s also a great cook!
UTENSILS
large bowl
rolling pin
pastry blender
measuring spoons
flour sifter
measuring cup
spatula or kitchen knife
pastry brush
breadboard
INGREDIENTS
1 tsp. salt
3 cups flour
1½ cups vegetable shortening
1 EGG
1 tbsp. vinegar
5 tbsp. cold water
Mix salt and flour. Cut in shortening until fine. Mix egg, vinegar, and water together and beat with fork. Add liquid to flour mixture and stir well. Place half the dough on a floured breadboard; dust with flour and work enough into the dough to keep it from sticking. Roll out to fit size of pie plate.
* * *
FRANCINE’S APPLE PIE FILLING
The best apples for a pie are Gravenstein. They’re available in late summer. We buy them by the lug at the orchard here in Sonoma County.
6–8 apples (peeled and sliced)
1 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. cinnamon
dash of nutmeg
¾ cup sugar
1 tbsp. flour
* * *
December came and brought with it colder weather. Mary and David bought Timmy a heavy snow parka and gloves. His mother gave him a new backpack, and he put his shoe box in it. He it to school each day, and in the afternoon he’d hang the backpack on the closet door, where he could see it while he was doing his homework or when he went to bed at night.
It seemed everybody in the small town where Mary and David H
olmes and Timmy lived knew about the shoe box. But nobody but Timmy knew what was inside it.
A few boys tried to take it from him one day, but Mrs. King saw them and made them pick up trash on the school grounds during lunch hour.
Sometimes children on the bus would ask him what he had in the box, but he’d say, “Just things.”
“What kind of things?”
He would shrug, but he would never say.
* * *
SIMPLIFYING CHRISTMAS
Several years ago, when storefront Christmas decorations appeared in October, our family decided to scale back, not add to the national credit card debt, and keep our focus where it belongs: on Jesus. Each family brings one gift for the entire family to enjoy throughout the afternoon: a movie, a game, or treats. After our sit-down Christmas dinner, we gather in the living room. One of our grandchildren reads the Christmas story from Luke before gifts are distributed and opened. Each grandchild receives one gift from each family. This has made for a simple, stress-free, debt-free, joy-filled celebration of Jesus’ birth.
* * *
TURKEY DRESSING
This turkey dressing recipe was passed down from Grandma Johnson to my father-in-law, Bill Rivers. Dad Bill knew just how to cook a turkey— I never tasted one that wasn’t perfect. It’s been a family tradition, ever since he learned from Grandma, for each generation of men to teach the next. Dad Bill taught Rick, and Rick has taught Trevor, our eldest son. Rick also flew back east to teach our daughter, Shannon, and her husband, Rich, how to roast a thanksgiving turkey à la Rivers. Since Dad Bill passed away, Rick has handed the baton to me. He encourages, oversees, and carves. Now that our children are grown, married, and have children of their own, new cooking traditions are developing.
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