"I wonder what Aunt Maria is going to send this year, Dad?"
Dad laughed, as he spun the little girl around and around. "You'll just have to wait until Christmas morning to find out!"
She sighed. "Why do adults always like to wait for things?"
"Well Anna, I guess because the longer you wait for something, the more special it is when you finally get it."
She flipped her long braid, lightly flicking it on Dad's hand. "Humph! Not me, I appreciate it as soon as I get it."
He chuckled. "Well, one day you'll understand. Until then, consider it a lesson in patience."
Anna skipped towards the nearest chair. "Last year I waited a full month to get my Miss Claus Doggy. I would have loved her just as much if I'd gotten her right away."
"She's still your favorite, isn't she?"
Nancy glanced through her open bedroom door, to look at the soft pink dog on her pillow. "She sure is!"
He nodded. "That's what I told Aunt Maria. It pleased her greatly."
Anna beamed. "She always sends the best presents. When is she coming back to town?"
Dad walked to the window, and stared at the stark white winter wonderland. "She's planning to as soon as she can. Which as you know, means anyone in her way had better watch out."
Anna giggled. "Like her favorite story about how she taught Billy the Bully a lesson when she was a little girl."
Dad nodded solemnly. "Exactly like that, Honey."
Anna walked over to him, and took his hand. "Are you worried about something?"
He paused for a heartbeat, then grinned before facing his daughter. "There's something adults like to do even more than wait. Do you know what it is?"
She frowned. "Tell kids what to do?"
He laughed. A loud, genuine laugh.
"Well besides that, we like to worry. We worry about everything, even what we're going to fix for supper."
Anna looked at him in silence for a long time. "That's just silly. I'll never understand adults, even when I get old and wrinkled enough to be one myself."
He nodded. "Sometimes we don't make sense, even to ourselves."
Anna's attention was suddenly focused on the window. She began jumping up and down. "The mail is here! "And it looks like there's a package!"
Dad laughed, his hand still in Anna's. "Hey, my arm isn't a pump. Why don't you use some of that energy to open the door?"
She unceremoniously dropped his hand, and streaked towards the door. Skidding to a stop, she threw it open to greet the surprised postman.
Dad strode over to rescue the box from his daughter. "Merry Christmas, Sir. This goes under the tree. Isn't that right, Anna?"
The little girl blushed as she smoothed a piece of clear tape back into place.
A few minutes later, she was admiring the red and gold wrapping paper. "It's only a day until Christmas. Why can't we open it?"
He rubbed his chin. "And how do you think that would make Aunt Maria feel if she ever found out?"
Anna grinned. "I think she'd be happy. There's a message on the card that's taped to the box. It says to open it before Christmas!"
Dad took the box, and looked at the pretty scene of the Christ child's first night on Earth. "So it does," he agreed after lifting the flap.
The two slowly and carefully peeled off the beautiful paper. Then Dad opened the top with his extra sharp adult scissors.
Anna squealed with joy. "A Mr. Claus doggy! I didn't know there were any, this is the best present ever!"
Without pausing to look at the various other presents and decorations, she grabbed the clear bag with the stuffed toy, and ran into her room. "Guess who came to live with us, Miss Claus! You can be a Mrs. Claus!"
Dad smiled, and began to look through the box. "Dear Lord, please keep Maria safe, and let her come back to us soon. I wish she could have seen Anna's face when she opened the box..."
The house shook, and a loud blast rang through the quiet winter scene.
Anna ran to her father, who quickly gathered her into his arms. "That one was close, Daddy. It scared me."
"I know, Honey. It scared me too, but we're safe now. They never drop two in the same area."
The little girl buried her face in his chest. A few seconds later, eyes dry, she looked up and smiled. "Let's say a prayer for the men who are trying to hit our houses, Dad."
"Uh... I guess so. What would you like to pray for them?" he asked, almost stuttering.
Anna looked at his expression, suddenly unsure. "I just wanted to pray that they could spend next Christmas with their families, instead of trying to hurt people."
He nodded, unable to speak for several minutes. When he did, it was in a low, husky voice. "That's a wonderful prayer, Anna. And when we finish, we will pray Aunt Maria can spend next Christmas here with us."
Describe what you see:
I see a box filled with Christmas ornaments and toys. It looks like it was packed with love.
Describe what you feel:
I feel like the box is going to a loved one who is far away.