INA AND THE GINGERBREAD PAGEANT, INTRO

 "This is the first Christmas I ever spent without the voice of one of my children in the house.”

Thanksgiving Day, November 30, 1933

As was her habit after Thanksgiving dinner, Ina sat in her comfortable overstuffed rocking chair beside the dining room window, counting her blessings and also contemplating her celebration of Christmas, now just 24 days away. Thanksgiving came late this year – the very last Thursday of November, which seemed to shorten the time for preparations, though in Ina’s case, it didn’t really matter.

At 63, Ina was still strong and vigorous, but her appearance brought to mind bygone days. Her long hair was twisted into a bun on top of her head, just as she had worn it since she was first married, though now it was thin and gray. Her house dress was faded but serviceable, and she wore an old wool sweater to protect against the evening draft. By her appearance she was just an ordinary, old-fashioned farm wife, but nothing was further from the truth. You see, Ina and her sister Bertha, who lived just over the hill to the east, had been known to work a little magic from time to time, especially at Christmas.

Now that we could speak of Thanksgiving in the past tense, it was indeed time to think about Christmas, but Ina wasn’t finding her usual enthusiasm for it, especially when she reflected on the memories of last Christmas when she had been filled with anticipation as she gathered her family around her, especially her little granddaughter Sadie. She had enjoyed making a rag doll for Sadie, primitive though it was.

Yes, Ina knew that the magic of Christmas was in making a happy time for others, especially a child, but it wouldn’t happen this year. In fact, to make it even more difficult, this would be the first Christmas that none of her children would be at home. And, Ina worried a bit that in her present state of mind the magic muse would not appear to give Christmas that special glow.

Suddenly Ina felt a firm hand on her shoulder. “Wha-? What is it?” she stammered, and looking up from her reverie, she saw him standing beside her – Santa, the jolly old gent himself.

“Why, Santa! What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ina, I need your help this year – Bertha’s, too.”

“But what can we do in this little old place so far away from everything,” blustered Ina.

“Happens you can do a lot,” Santa replied. “A little girl here is poor and sad. You’ll learn of the opportunity to make a difference soon. Please say yes. Mind now – don’t forget.”

“All right, Santa,” Ina replied drowsily. And as suddenly as he had come, Santa was gone.

“Ina? Ina!” husband Jack called from the rocking chair before the fireplace, “wake up. You’ve been talking to Santy Clause in your sleep again,” he chuckled. KW