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     Ruther Glen was a charming town, the kind of small town 

where folks grow prize roses in the spring, share their harvest 

in the fall, and enjoy tall glasses of lemonade on the porch in 

the summer. 

   Our story, however, is one of winter and the Christmas in 

Ruther Glen that will remain forever in the hearts of those who 

were there that glorious Christmas Eve.     

   Christmas that year fell on a Sunday.   What a perfect day to 

celebrate the birth of our Savior!   It was Christmas Eve, and as 

the townsfolk went about the business of preparing their 

homes for the Christmas celebration, a special air of 

anticipation seemed to fill the air.  

Little did they know, that the events about to unfold in their 

small town, would be treasured in their hearts and passed 

down from generation to generation. Truly, the people of 

Ruther Glen were to be changed forever that night.  

      Children all over town were preparing for the 

traditional Christmas pageant that was to take 

place in the white clapboard church the next 

morning.   The people of Ruther Glen looked 

forward to the annual event each year. 

  The Hudson boys were practicing their lines in their home on 

Ivy Street.   Ben was to be Joseph, and his little brother Cole 

was one of the wisemen.   Young Cole was especially excited 

this year.   He had turned six in October and was finally old 

enough to be in the play. 

     Around the corner, in the Henslin family’s sprawling 

farmhouse, Jessica and Katie were preparing for their special 

roles in the pageant.

 Katie was looking forward to playing Mary, the mother of baby 

Jesus, a most treasured part.  

     Jessica   was going to be one of the angels who sang on the 

night of Jesus' birth. As her mother looked on, she practiced 

“Glory to God in the Highest”, making sure she remembered 

every word. 

Out at the Chapel farm, Brittany, Haley, and Cody were 

making sure their costumes were ready. Brittany and Haley 

were working on their angel wings, wanting to be the most 

beautiful angels they could be. 

Little brother, Cody, was going to be one of the wisemen with 

Cole.  

     The four little Isaac children were hurrying through their 

after dinner chores so that they, too, could practice their lines 

for the play.  

     The boys, Sam, Nathan and the youngest boy, Mark, were 

playing the three kings and little sister, Hannah, was overjoyed 

to be playing an angel with Jessica.   Her little costume was 

hanging on her bedroom door, ready to be tried on, and 

Hannah sat on her bed admiring the costume's shimmering 

wings. 

Last, but certainly not least, Mz. Linda, the kids’ beloved choir 

director, was at home with her family putting the finishing 

touches on the small manger that would hold the Baby Jesus.  

     When she was satisfied that everything was in order, she 

ventured out into the chilly night to make her annual Christmas 

Eve visits to all of her students. 

      Mz. Linda’s love for Jesus simply overflowed onto her 

students, and her pre-pageant visits were as much a part of 

Christmas in Ruther Glen as were the lights on the trees and the 

greenery in store windows.   

     Her first stop was the Boones.   The girls proudly invited her 

in for cookies that they had made themselves, and she was 

thrilled to hear that they had been practicing their song.

      Katie and Jessica were full of holiday spirit and they 

laughed and teased as they shared treats still warm from the 

oven. They stood side by side in the kitchen, and rehearsed a 

few lines for Mz. Linda.  

     The girls had such sweet voices, and Mz. Linda shared with 

them how excited she was to see how God was going to use 

them in the celebration that was to take place the very next 

morning.  

       After a few minutes, the girls went up to their room, 

leaving Mz. Linda and their mom to chat for a while before Mz. 

Linda had to continue on her rounds. They had just begun to 

say their goodbyes when the sound of raised, angry voices 

came from the direction of the girls’ room. 

 “It’s my turn to read it this year,” wailed an obviously upset 

Jessica.

   “No, you’re not old enough.   It’s tradition that I read “The 

Night Before Christmas”.   I do it every year, right after we set 

out the cookies for Santa!”

   “That’s not fair,” shrieked Jessica, “You always get to do 

everything.   I don’t care if you’re older.   I want to read it this 

year!”

    “Oh my,” said Mz. Linda with a grin, “sounds like it’s time for 

me to go!   Merry Christmas! I’ll see you in the morning.   Good 

luck with the girls”.   Linda left with a good natured chuckle, 

remembering the days when her precious girls were young. 

 Enjoying her drive along the winding country lane, she headed 

closer to town to the Isaac family home, a welcoming 

homestead decorated with traditional greens and glowing with 

candlelight. 

 As she knocked and entered through the center hallway, she 

heard Sam, Nathan, and Mark practicing their lines in the den.  

Hannah was in the kitchen, angel wings and all, helping her 

mom finish the last of the baking, and Dad was headed to the 

shed, retrieving the shovels in preparation for the snow that 

was expected later that evening. 

  “I sure will be glad when winter’s over around here, “ he 

grumbled on his way out, “I’m sick and tired of shoveling 

snow!”

    Linda helped herself to a chair in the cozy kitchen, amused 

at the way Hannah’s angel wings drooped, topsy-turvy   over 

her shoulders as she attempted to carry a large bag of flour 

back to the pantry.   Suddenly, without warning, Hannah’s feet 

slipped from under her and down she went, flour and all.   The 

soft white powder flew all over Hannah, her wings, and the tile 

floor.   While her mother looked on, Hannah began to cry.

 The boys, hearing the commotion, stopped practicing and 

raced each other to the kitchen to see what was going on.   In 

their excitement, they clambered over one another, pushing 

and pulling their way down the hall.   Nathan was in the lead, 

with Sam and Mark just a breath behind. 

 As the boys rounded the corner, Nathan stopped in his tracks, 

staring at the mess in the kitchen, and the other boys ran 

smack into him.   The tumble of boys rolled across the floor, 

smashing into the glass cabinet containing their mom’s 

collection of Christmas angels.  

As the three tallest angels on top fell to the ground, breaking 

into tiny pieces, a hush fell over the room. 

 “Look what you’ve done!” Sam shouted at Nathan. 

   “Me? What about you?   You ran into me!” screamed Nathan, 

as he watched a horrified expression spread across his mom’s 

face. 

   “We couldn’t help it, “ added Mark. “ You stopped.   Why did 

you stop?”   What’s the matter with you?”  

   Nathan stormed up to his room, slamming the door behind 

him, while Sam and Mark began to pick up the shattered 

pieces of the angels.   All the while, they took turns blaming 

each other and arguing about whether or not they should try to 

repair the broken figurines.  

    “Mercy me,” said Mz. Linda sympathetically.   “I hate to 

leave you like this, but I still have several stops to make 

before I call it a night.   How about we pray before I go?”

    After a heartfelt prayer for peace in the midst of the 

confusion, Mz. Linda excused herself, saying that she would see 

herself out. 

  “Merry Christmas, everyone.   Don’t forget, it’s Christmas 

Eve.   See you in the morning,” she called over her shoulder as 

she hustled out the door. 

 As she travelled on to the Hudson’s home, a quiet snow began 

to fall.   Mz. Linda was struck by the beauty of the snowflakes 

as they tumbled gently down to blanket the earth.  

There was something so very peaceful about the scene that 

was unfolding in front of her.   She marvelled at how God, 

Creator of the universe, fashioned something so magical as a 

snowflake, every single one of a unique shape and design.  

Yet, when those snowflakes gathered together to form a 

glistening cover over the earth, their collective beauty was 

unmatched. 

 “Oh, how like our awesome Heavenly Father, to send us 

beauty on a night like this, the night of our Savior’s birth,” 

whispered Mz. Linda. 

 A few turns around the bend, and she found herself safely at 

the Hudson home.   Ben and Cole, confident in their roles as 

Joseph and a wiseman, were relaxing in their cozy, firelit den, 

enjoying a round or two of their favorite video game.  

Mr. Hudson was baking a batch of his famous chocolate chip 

cookies, while his wife put the finishing touches on the 

beautifully fragrant Christmas tree. 

 Mz. Linda’s heart was warmed by the peacefulness of the 

Christmas Eve scene, and she happily relaxed on the cozy den 

sofa, chatting with Mrs. Hudson as she waited for the boys to 

take a break from their game. She wanted to   give them a few 

final words of encouragement and pray with them about their 

roles in the pageant that would be upon them so very soon.  

As Mrs. Hudson placed the last ornament on the tree, and 

stepped back to admire the stately evergreen, Mr. Hudson 

announced from the kitchen that it was time for Ben and Cole 

to head upstairs to prepare for bed.   Like a melting snowflake 

vanishing into the night air, the peacefulness of the holiday 

scene inside the Hudson home began to crumble.  

  “Why do have to go to bed so early?   It’s Christmas Eve!” 

wailed Cole.

    “ Yea,” agreed Ben, in a not so respectful tone, “We’re too 

old to still have a bedtime.   Why can’t we stay up late tonight?  

None of our friends’ parents tell them what time to go to bed; 

they stay up as late as they want.”

    And so began the long, drawn out process that bedtime had 

become in the Hudson household.   It seemed that, for the past 

several weeks, the final hour before the family settled in for 

the night had become a very unsettling way to end each day. 

 Well, Mz. Linda, once again, took her cue and began to excuse 

herself, quickly sprinkling her usual words of encouragement 

over the boys, and after sharing a brief prayer with them, she 

said her goodnights and headed out the door.  

The snow was getting deeper, and as she trudged to her car, 

she felt the early stirrings of disappointment begin to needle at 

her.   Her visits were finding precious familes all over Ruther 

Glen arguing and worrying, scurrying around finishing 

Christmas chores, and missing the beauty of this holy night. 

    “Lord,” she prayed, “help my students remember the 

meaning of this night.   Please bring your peace into their 

homes, and help them remember the miracle of Christmas 

Eve.   Amen.”

Steeled by her faith in the power of prayer, she hunkered 

down in her warm car, and carefully headed towards the 

Chapel farm.  

    The Chapels had once lived in town, but their love of God’s 

creation in wide open spaces, had led them many years ago to 

purchase the old Miller homeplace on the outskirts of town.  

Twenty   two sprawling acres were covered with constant 

reminders of God’s love for us expressed through His amazing 

creation. 

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