JOY ALONG THE WAY: CHRISTMAS IN THE ATTIC II

Last year I spoke of the time my sister, Lou, and I had a little Christmas of our own in the old farmhouse attic. This year let me tell you about my very own Christmas in the attic.

When one lives in the same place for 60 years, a lot of Christmas things accumulate as well as a thousand and one other things, although not one Dalmatian.

When readying to decorate in the regular living area, I went to the attic, sometimes just called the upstairs, to bring down a suitable number of things. When I had all the Christmas storage boxes opened and contents spread out on the bed, that moment a shaft of sunlight came through the east window, making all baubles twinkle and shine. A white deer inside a beribboned wreath seemed to leap for joy. The little drummer's drum quivered in the dancing lights. With only one eye of a Teddy bear in the light shaft, it seemed to be winking at me. A miniature, all-in-one golden nativity ornament reflected the brightest light of all. Suddenly all the accumulated warmth, gladness and tenderness of the season washed over me. I think a tear fell on a tiny rocking horse, and I said aloud, "I'm going to have myself a little merry Christmas all of my own, right up here in the attic."

Quickly I took downstairs all the things I needed for that area, then began, with a curious joy in my heart, to have my secret little Christmas.

The green-painted bed with green-painted chest of drawers on each side seemed to be made for Christmas. I looked through my old quilts and chose the reddest one I have, a complicated patchwork design Mama made long ago.

A small round table, already covered with a green cloth that reached to the floor, was cleared of whatever was on it, and a "homemade" Christmas tree, composed of branches from an old artificial pine tree that got too big for me to handle, was placed on it. How to trim it? The answer came quickly. Only three ornaments I've had as far back as I can remember. Only three. Simplicity must reign here.

An ancient metal and wooden camel back trunk at the foot of the bed holds Steve's old toys, school mementos, scrapbooks of clippings. I lifted the lid a little and let an old, well-worn Teddy bear peep out and a baseball mitt, just like pictures of old trunks I've seen in magazines and on Christmas cards.

A banned-to-the-attic chair, a footstool and an overflowing basket of saved Christmas cards were put in place. I planned to go through the cards on each of the 12 days of Christmas, remembering those old friends and relatives, some now gone, some still here.

The last thing to take its place was a beautiful, little Bible -- gilt-edged leaves, gold embossed black leather covering, gold and green flowered end papers. I put it on a small stand and opened it to what, by meticulous reasoning, I assumed to be the second chapter of Luke. You see, it is a German Bible, a gift given to me because of its beauty and age, not because of any false assumption that I could read German or was of German ancestry. It has only five words in English, "Concordia Publishing Co., St. Louis, Mo., 1894. But I look at the strange words and begin reading anyway, from memory, "And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. ..."

The coming of the Christ Child is the centerpiece of Christmas in any language.

REJOICE

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.