Page 15 - CWW CHRISTMAS

December 9

DON’T EAT THE GIBLET GRAVY
Joye Thackston

“Love the Lord your God.”
Deuteronomy 6:5

My eyes sprang open. I could hear my parents’ voices. Instantly, I thought,
They’re talking to Santa! I flipped over to my hands and knees, pushed my quilts into a
pile at the foot of my crib, and climbed on them. The door by my bed was slightly ajar,
allowing light to seep in. As I looked around, I saw Ted asleep in his bed. Where’s Ned?
On my tiptoes, I reached for the door.
“Leave the door alone,” came a familiar whisper from below. Ned lay on his
tummy under my bed, peeking through the cracked door.
“Is Santa in there?”
“No! Be quiet!”
Ping! Ping! Ping! Three shots rang through the air. Then ten higher-pitched pings
sounded off in the distance.
“Oh, no! Is Dad shooting at Santa?”
“No, silly!” Ned exclaimed. “Dad shot into a box to show Mom that the BB guns
he got Ted and me for Christmas are not dangerous. The BBs went through the box and
bounced off pans in the kitchen. Some must have gone through the flour bucket.
Mom raised her voice, “OK, Daniel Boone, you’re in charge of fishing the BBs out
of the flour unless you want BBs in your giblet gravy tomorrow!” Ned slid from under
my bed and dashed to safety. “Go to sleep. Mom is mad.”
I fell backward and pulled a quilt over my head. The next sound I heard was
Mother announcing, “Today is Christmas, our Lord’s birthday. It’s time to get up and
open presents.”
“Does Jesus have presents to open?” I asked.
“Yes.” She lifted me to the floor. “Jesus unwraps our love.”
As we scrambled to the tree, Ned poked Ted and whispered, “Don’t eat the
giblet gravy.”