The Christmas Pin Society, Chapter Three

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The Christmas Pin Society

by Marianne Coyne

Copyright © Marianne Coyne 2006

Chapter Three

December 2004, about three weeks before Christmas, I found myself to be unusually sullen. Perhaps it was because this December marked two years since my friends and I stopped having our Christmas luncheons; stopped exchanging Christmas pins; stopped coming together ~ all five at once ~ to share grace, food, and that special bond. Or, perhaps I felt this way because of little, ten year old Billy Harris, whom the local morning news announced needed a special operation; one which his parents could not fully pay for. Perhaps I had that sense of helplessness that comes over you when you know someone is suffering and you feel there is nothing you can do for them. This time of year is suppose to remind us of the Light which came into the world two thousand years ago; but certain circumstances sometimes made me wonder if it was still here.

I walked over to my dresser, and opened the drawer. I carefully disturbed the box, containing the "magical" pins, from its year long repose. Carrying it into the dining room, I sat down at the table. Gently opening the lid, I noticed an eerie, but peaceful silence throughout the house; even the refrigerator quieted its usual humming. I took out a beautifully enameled wreath, and attached it to my sweater. The gesture didn't help my mood. The pins just didn't possess that special quality they had always seemed to have. Something was missing. I took from the box some photographs of luncheons of

Christmas' past. Seeing the smiling faces coaxed me to gently smile. How radiant my friends were; faces beamed with a glow of warmth and joy. Brightly colored Christmas pins bejeweled sweaters of red, white, and gold. Love emanated from the photos. We were all very close, and I sighed to wonder the real cause of the Christmas Pin Society's end.

The outward circumstances were clear. Three years ago Angel's son, Joe Jr., was missing in action for three days in Afghanistan. During this devastating time, the rest of us did our best to console Angel and her family with prayers and words of encouragement. But Angel withdrew more and more into herself. Our prayers were answered when Joe was found wounded, but alive. Although he came home by that December, Angel could not bring herself to celebrate in our usual way. She became reclusive, limiting her outside social endeavors, and clung to her family more than ever.

Hannah's marriage could no longer bear its ongoing strain, and two years ago she and Harold separated. Her self-blame, in not being able to hold her family together, left her unable to enjoy life's subtleties. It wasn't long before she, too, became more absent from our company.

That same year Belinda and Paul moved out of the state with his company's expansion. He was in charge of getting things up and running, and training upper management. It was to be a very busy time for him, and we knew they would be gone for a long duration. We were sad to see them go, but they bade us good-bye with encouraging words that they would return.

That left just Kathy and me. We all kept in touch with telephone calls and an occasional visit, but the Christmas Pin Society, as it had been, was gone.

Yes, the circumstances were clear, but I wondered what the deeper significance was. Wasn't the love we had shared all these years strong enough to endure these burdens? Doesn't life hold more meaning? I pondered these questions.

Looking up, I noticed the few Christmas cards which started to trickle in announcing the season. My eyes lingered on a nativity scene, carefully composed and painted by a long-ago artist. The source of light in the scene radiated from the baby Jesus ~ the Light of the World ~ I had thought of earlier. I looked again at the photographs. All those years we had carefully planned our Christmas luncheons about two or three weeks before Christmas, to keep it separate from the celebration of Christ's birth. We thought we were being respectful by keeping the two occasions apart. But as I lingered again at the sweet face of our Lord, shining with light and love, I wondered, maybe we should not have separated the love, and the giving and receiving from Christ. Maybe the Light of the world still shines brightly; it's only ours which has dimmed.

Could it be possible? Could the Christmas Pin Society once again shine brightly? Wasn't there some way to get all of us together again? Remembering the morning news report, I had an idea!