Hi all,
The following is a short story given to me while I was driving around today. It is a gift to whomever accepts it and understands its symbolism. It is my gift to you for Christmas, my card, my best wishes and my "hope" - such as that is.
It is also my way of expressing how I view Christmas, because many of my friends believe I have a problem with Christmas as Christmas. If you see it the way this story portrays it, you will know that not only do I have a deep understanding of Christmas, but I also, surprise?!?! have a certain very positive way of looking at the Church and God. I call it the view from "The Other Side".
(PS: Please overlook the typos. I know I make lots of those!)
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Another Gift of the Magi
(from The Other Side by Sha'Tara)
Ariana and Sylvia were twins and they were inseparable. They did most things together and were seldom found far from each other. Even as they grew older, they shared their times and even their friends. When their parents divorced, they were ten years old. In their innocent wisdom, they decided to "share" themselves between the parents. Sylvia went with her dad and Ariana remained with her mother. So every time the girls wanted to be together one parent or the other had to bring her over. Thus, over a period of time, and even after they were re-married, the parents developed a deep friendship as they watched their children playing or talking together.
After their parents separated, both girls, raised nominally Catholic, began to consider their faith and returned to the Church, attending and helping organize various functions. They shared the same intense belief in what the Church stood for.
Both grew into beautiful young women and over-achievers. They were heading to college when Ariana told her sister that she had decided to enter the convent and become a nun.
"I want to try on Mother Teresa's shoes Sylvia, see how they fit and how long I can walk in them before they kill me!" Mother Teresa had been their childhood heroine.
Being Catholic, entering the convent was not an issue. Men and women were both desperately needed by the Church. Sylvia cried when her sister put on the veil and became Sister Celeste. She accepted her sister's choice as they had always accepted each other's choices. Sylvia went to college then on to university intent on getting a medical degree.
After a few years Ariana, now Sister Celeste, confided her passion to Sylvia as they spent a Christmas day afternoon together.
"I want to open a hospice for the homeless downtown. It's my dream, Syl. It's my passion, my inspiration."
"And how does you Order and the Church feel about that?"
"If I can get private funding to open it and keep it going and convince at least four other sisters to join me, they'll bless it. Problem is, I don't have any contacts I could use to raise the money."
"How much money do you need to start?"
"I need at least one hundred thousand dollars to open. I've got a tentative tender on a lease already. After that, I don't know."
Sylvia took her sister's hands in hers and looking into her eyes, said: "Has God ever failed either of us, sister?"
"No, never." she replied, smiling.
"Then go ahead. Do this and you will get the money... I promise!"
They talked some more. That day they swore an oath to each other, that no matter what the circumstances, no matter the distance, they would always spend Christmas day together.
Silvia sold her new car. She broke her engagement and when he told her to keep the ring, she sold that. She maxed her student loans and canvassed the campus and all her well-heeled friends. A few weeks later, near the end of January, Sister Celeste received a call from the bank where she had opened her "hope account" for the hospice. There was a one hundred thousand dollar anonymous donation in the account.
Ariana opened her hospice and from the very start it was a success. A brilliant manager and tireless, she drove her staff and herself to meet the needs of the homeless. Abandoned children were found temporary homes; pregnant girls were sheltered and placed here and there. The sick and the dying found a place of refuge there -- a warm place, not an institution. She was often heard saying, "Unfortunately, our business is probably the busiest in town. We'll never go broke from lack of customers."
The anonymous donations kept coming, always enough to meet the rent and the basic needs. But where was Sylvia? After she collected the original amount, she quit university and hired herself out as a model and a call girl. It was the only way she could see to raise money in sufficient amounts, consistently and quickly enough to meet her sister's obligations. Her sociable ways, confidence, beauty and intelligence soon made her the number one choice companion in the underworld.
She changed her identity and had a false address. She took the name Folie Delacroix. She had one rule only: no entertaining in her place. She rented a run-down basement suite in the old part of town, among the poorer segments of society. Some she even directed to her sister's hospice. Every dollar she made not needed for immediate personal necessities she put in her sister's "Hope Fund" as they now called it.
Every Christmas, as they had promised each other, Sylvia came to visit her sister. When pressed about her doings in the world, she remained evasive, explaining that getting her degree had been put on hold due to more immediate commitments. She spoke of trips to Europe as assistant secretary to the CEO of some software company. She made up stories of exciting times on the Riviera and other places. At the end of their yearly visit, they would hold each other and say nothing. Moments that brought back so many happy times for Sylvia and gave so much hope to Ariana.
The anonymous donor was faithful. The money was always there, sometimes more than expected. Then on the tenth anniversary of their vow, as they met for another Christmas, Ariana noticed her sister looked pale and thin. The luster in her eyes was dulled.
"Syl, what's wrong?" Sylvia shrugged.
"Don't do that. I'm a trained nurse and I handle sick people everyday. What's with you?"
Sylvia began to cry... "I'm sick, Ari. I'm... I'm dying. I'm being punished."
"What for? What have you done?"
Sylvia sat crying for a long time without saying a word. Ariana waited, holding her, sensing her fear and confusion. Finally, Sylvia unburdened herself and told the story of the last ten years.
Ariana was shocked. She kept staring at her sick sister and finally exploded:
"You foolish, foolish woman. What have you done? Why? You gave away everything you had, everything you were, including your reputation, to give me this hospice? You sacrificed all that meant anything to you so I could have what I wanted? You gave away your life for me. Syl... I never knew until now what love is. You... you did this -- for me, so I could fulfill my dream...
She stopped. Sylvia continued to sob, their tears mixing as they held and kissed each other.
Ariana gave way to Sister Celeste. She held the other woman's hand and said: "Listen to me very, very carefully, Folie Delacroix. Few people could do what you have done. Even fewer ever do it. Let me never hear you speak of punishment. What awaits you, sister, is not terror but joy. You have demonstrated once again that love given freely, unconditionally, to another -- which is the same as saying "to God" is the greatest gift of all -- the gift of the Magi."
Ariana takes over again: "You will remain here. I will look after you from now on. No more work. Please say yes, please!"
Sylvia protests: "But how will you meet your expenses if the money stops?"
"Remember what you said to me once? 'Has God ever failed either of us sister?' It won't stop. For some time now, the overall donations have exceeded those of the one we called "God's Agent". The Church has, shall we say, adopted this hospice and it will be regularly funded. You have done your part, now let me do mine and let us do ours."
Too weak to protest and fully aware that life as Folie was over, Sylvia stayed at the hospice. She did not get better but while she could still work, she helped with the chores and her singing voice often echoed in the rooms where she worked.
Near the end of that year her body finally gave out and she remained in bed. Ariana spent as much time as she could spare comforting her and listening to some of her experiences in the underworld of high class prostitution. Sometimes they would both burst out laughing, followed by terrible coughing fits for Sylvia. Surprisingly also, during that year some of her clients traced her to the hospice and she was allowed to receive them. There were strange tearful reunions and many a new anonymous donation appeared in the "Hope Fund".
The week before Christmas was the hardest. Sylvia labored for breath and could not eat. Fed intravenously, she was slipping fast. Christmas Eve came and she couldn't hold any longer. Ariana came in and saw that the battle was over. She reached down and held the frail, wasted body of her sister and said:
"Remember our vow - no matter what the circumstances, we would always spend Christmas day together? You have to hold on tonight. You have to celebrate the birth of our Lord with me tomorrow. You can't break your vow. You can't!"
Sylvia understood. She held on and passed away in the evening of December 25. Ariana looked out the window into the city night. Snow had fallen all day and everything was covered in white. Street lights reflected their light upon store fronts decorated with various aspects of the Christmas the world has come to accept as normal. And for a brief moment the city was not ugly. It had put on a white mantle for the passage of Sylvia's soul. Above the city, between high-rise escarpments, Ariana saw a couple of stars. She cried.
A year went by. Things returned to normal madness in the hospice. Sister Celeste drove herself even more now, but learned to ease up on the younger nuns and things ran smoothly. On Christmas Eve she found herself alone in her small office. She had chosen to take the night shift. Most of her staff were sent home to their families for Midnight Mass and Christmas day. She pulled out her rosary, thought of Mother Teresa doing the same thing and smiled.
She thought of Sylvia and tried to imagine the kind of life she was now having. Pangs of sorrow, regret and emptiness hit her. Had her foolish dream, however well it had turned out, been the cause of her sister's death? She shook her head as she prayed through the rosary. "I cannot entertain such thoughts. It is wrong. Sylvia and I were one and she did what she chose to do, not just for me, but for the people here, for the city, for the world. We both found what we wanted most."
The front door buzzer brought her out of her meditation. She checked the monitor. Two men, unshaven, obviously hungry and cold, stood at the door. Compassion moved her heart as she looked at them and in violation of an unbreakable rule she had made, against all common sense, got up and went to open the door. She invited the men inside and as she turned to lead them to the cafeteria, they grabbed her, threw her to the floor and raped her at knife point. Then the one with the knife leered at her and plunged the knife in her heart several times.
As Ariana lay dying, she cried in a loud voice, "You are forgiven!" then quietly, "As promised, I'll be with you for Christmas, Sylvia."
Carole...love and peace
Love Tinka
Felix
Connie Gotsch
Sage