For he satisfieth the longing soul. —Psalm107:9 (kjv)
A certain longing continued to creep up on me. I missed those shy, little soft-haired girls who once rang my doorbell decades ago. “Can Julie and Jennifer come out and play?” the bravest one would inquire.
Why hadn’t I marveled over them, bent over, and spoken kindly? Instead, I’d bellowed, “Girls, your friends are at the door!” I hadn’t even invited them inside most of the time.
Our doorbell rang Christmas Eve. Somewhat grudgingly, I answered it. As I opened it, dainty, beautiful sounds floated up to my ears...and heart. “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright . . . ”
I gazed down at five little girls singing their Christmas gift to me.
Oh, Lord, they’ve come. You’ve sent them!
Two new families had moved onto our street. Regrettably, I hadn’t yet been to call. The two mothers of the girls stood smiling in the background.
My husband, Gene, joined me, and we stood arm in arm taking it all in. Their fresh, eager faces. Sweet voices. Enthusiasm. The never-changing message in the ancient carols. I bent down. “Oh, please come inside.” Their mothers ushered them in. At our tree, I gave them candy, then took them to a bedroom I refer to as “the little girls’ room.” Of course, we don’t have a little girl; the room’s just decorated that way.
“Can we touch the dolls?” one child whispered.
“Yes. Touch all of them. The paper dolls and books too.”
Finally the children and their mothers said good-bye and strode out into the starry night, leaving behind the almost unbearable tenderness of little girls.
Digging Deeper: Mt 2:2; Lk 2:14
