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The Christmas Moment
Husband and wife James and Della hardly speak to each other anymore. He's always in that dratted garage, while she finds sanctuary in her garden. Since Grandpa died, nothing has really been the same---nothing, that is, until the letter. The beautiful, miraculous letter, lost in the mail and suspended in time---the letter that just might save Christmas for their family.
- GenresChristmas
64 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 2005
1 person is currently reading
13 people want to read
About the author
Carol Lynn Pearson
93 books125 followersFrom http://www.clpearson.com/about_me.htm
In fourth grade, in Gusher, Utah, I won four dollars in a school district essay contest on “Why We Should Eat a Better Breakfast.” And yes, this morning I had a bowl of my own excellent granola, followed by a hike in the hills near my home in Walnut Creek, California.
In high school I began writing in earnest. I have now in my files a folder marked “Poetry, Very Bad,” and another, “Poetry, Not Quite So Bad.” Writing served a good purpose for that very dramatic, insecure adolescent. Also at that time I began to keep a diary, which I still maintain and which has been indescribably useful to me both as a writer and as a pilgrim on the earth.
After graduating from Brigham Young University with an MA in theatre, teaching for a year in Utah at Snow College, and traveling for a year, I taught part-time at BYU in the English department and was then hired by the motion picture studio on campus to write educational and religious screenplays.
While performing at the university as Mrs. Antrobus in Thornton Wilder’s “The Skin of Our Teeth,” I met and fell in love with Gerald Pearson, a shining, blond, enthusiastic young man, who fell in love with me and my poems.
“We’ve got to get them published,” he said on our honeymoon, and soon dragged me up to the big city, Salt Lake City, to see who would be first in line to publish them. “Poetry doesn’t sell,” insisted everyone we spoke to, and I, somewhat relieved, put publishing on the list of things to do posthumously.
But not Gerald. “Then I’ll publish them,” he said. Borrowing two thousand dollars, he created a company called “Trilogy Arts” and published two thousand copies of a book called Beginnings, a slim, hard-back volume with a white cover that featured a stunning illustration, “God in Embryo,” by our good friend Trevor Southey, now an internationally known artist. On the day in autumn of 1967 that Gerald delivered the books by truck to our little apartment in Provo, I was terrified. I really had wanted to do this posthumously.
Beginnings
Today
You came running
With a small specked egg
Warm in your hand.
You could barely understand,
I know,
As I told you of Beginnings–
Of egg and bird.
Told, too,
That years ago you began,
Smaller than sight.
And then,
As egg yearns for sky
And seed stretches to tree,
You became–
Like me.
Oh,
But there’s so much more.
You and I, child,
Have just begun.
Think:
Worlds from now
What might we be?–
We, who are seed
Of Deity.
We toted a package of books up to the BYU bookstore, and asked to see the book buyer. “Well,” she said, “nobody ever buys poetry, but since you’re a local person, let me take four on consignment.” As they came in packages of twenty, we persuaded her to take twenty--on consignment. Next day she called and asked, “Those books you brought up here. Do you have any more of them?”
I had anticipated that the two thousand books, now stacked in our little closet and under our bed and in my Daddy’s garage, would last us years and years as wedding presents. But immediately we ordered a second printing. Beginnings sold over 150,000 copies before we gave it to Doubleday and then to Bookcraft.
Beginnings was followed by other volumes of poetry: The Search, The Growing Season, A Widening View, I Can’t Stop Smiling, and Women I Have Known and Been. Most of the poems from the earlier books now appear in a compilation, Beginnings and Beyond. The poems have been widely reprinted in such places as Ann Landers’ column, the second volume of Chicken Soup for the Soul, and college textbooks such as Houghton Mifflin’s Structure and Meaning: an Introduction to Literature. That first little volume of verse, and my husband’s determination, laid the foundation for my entire career.
Another characteristic of my husband was to have a profound effect on both
In fourth grade, in Gusher, Utah, I won four dollars in a school district essay contest on “Why We Should Eat a Better Breakfast.” And yes, this morning I had a bowl of my own excellent granola, followed by a hike in the hills near my home in Walnut Creek, California.
In high school I began writing in earnest. I have now in my files a folder marked “Poetry, Very Bad,” and another, “Poetry, Not Quite So Bad.” Writing served a good purpose for that very dramatic, insecure adolescent. Also at that time I began to keep a diary, which I still maintain and which has been indescribably useful to me both as a writer and as a pilgrim on the earth.
After graduating from Brigham Young University with an MA in theatre, teaching for a year in Utah at Snow College, and traveling for a year, I taught part-time at BYU in the English department and was then hired by the motion picture studio on campus to write educational and religious screenplays.
While performing at the university as Mrs. Antrobus in Thornton Wilder’s “The Skin of Our Teeth,” I met and fell in love with Gerald Pearson, a shining, blond, enthusiastic young man, who fell in love with me and my poems.
“We’ve got to get them published,” he said on our honeymoon, and soon dragged me up to the big city, Salt Lake City, to see who would be first in line to publish them. “Poetry doesn’t sell,” insisted everyone we spoke to, and I, somewhat relieved, put publishing on the list of things to do posthumously.
But not Gerald. “Then I’ll publish them,” he said. Borrowing two thousand dollars, he created a company called “Trilogy Arts” and published two thousand copies of a book called Beginnings, a slim, hard-back volume with a white cover that featured a stunning illustration, “God in Embryo,” by our good friend Trevor Southey, now an internationally known artist. On the day in autumn of 1967 that Gerald delivered the books by truck to our little apartment in Provo, I was terrified. I really had wanted to do this posthumously.
Beginnings
Today
You came running
With a small specked egg
Warm in your hand.
You could barely understand,
I know,
As I told you of Beginnings–
Of egg and bird.
Told, too,
That years ago you began,
Smaller than sight.
And then,
As egg yearns for sky
And seed stretches to tree,
You became–
Like me.
Oh,
But there’s so much more.
You and I, child,
Have just begun.
Think:
Worlds from now
What might we be?–
We, who are seed
Of Deity.
We toted a package of books up to the BYU bookstore, and asked to see the book buyer. “Well,” she said, “nobody ever buys poetry, but since you’re a local person, let me take four on consignment.” As they came in packages of twenty, we persuaded her to take twenty--on consignment. Next day she called and asked, “Those books you brought up here. Do you have any more of them?”
I had anticipated that the two thousand books, now stacked in our little closet and under our bed and in my Daddy’s garage, would last us years and years as wedding presents. But immediately we ordered a second printing. Beginnings sold over 150,000 copies before we gave it to Doubleday and then to Bookcraft.
Beginnings was followed by other volumes of poetry: The Search, The Growing Season, A Widening View, I Can’t Stop Smiling, and Women I Have Known and Been. Most of the poems from the earlier books now appear in a compilation, Beginnings and Beyond. The poems have been widely reprinted in such places as Ann Landers’ column, the second volume of Chicken Soup for the Soul, and college textbooks such as Houghton Mifflin’s Structure and Meaning: an Introduction to Literature. That first little volume of verse, and my husband’s determination, laid the foundation for my entire career.
Another characteristic of my husband was to have a profound effect on both
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 1, 2009
"You have learned by this time, I am certain, that the coming of Christmas does not necessarily mean the coming of the spirit of Christmas. Across the land there are hundreds of thousands of spiritless people who need a bit of a miracle in order to receive that blessed gift."
That's how this quick little story starts, based on the retelling of O. Henry's classic, The Gift of the Magi.
A letter arrives almost a year late with a special message from Grandpa and Jesus which helps to change the hearts of the Young family.
I think I have room for improvement through these words of Jesus...
"Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."
Della and James find themselves in a funny situation Christmas morning when they exchange gifts.
You'll just have to read it or at lest read O. Henry's original story.
That's how this quick little story starts, based on the retelling of O. Henry's classic, The Gift of the Magi.
A letter arrives almost a year late with a special message from Grandpa and Jesus which helps to change the hearts of the Young family.
I think I have room for improvement through these words of Jesus...
"Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."
Della and James find themselves in a funny situation Christmas morning when they exchange gifts.
You'll just have to read it or at lest read O. Henry's original story.
November 29, 2011
This book is much like The Gift of the Magi told in modern times. I did enjoy it and it made me think of how caught up we get in things instead of what is important. They were a typical family squabbling over everything, when a letter came from a deceased member of the family. The letter had gotten lost. Its contents changed their lives, for the time anyway.
December 9, 2011
A modern retelling of the Gift of the Magi. I love reading Christmas stories this time of year especially the ones that remind me to find the true Christmas Spirit when I am in the midst of getting caught up in the way the world tries to have us celebrate Christmas. A very quick and familiar read, but beautifully written.
November 30, 2017
While picking up holds at the library, I took this off a display (a constant danger), feeling that maybe I should read something related to the season - because and it was short. It is a modern retelling of the Gift of the Magi and was fine for what it is.
January 26, 2009
A modern tale of the gift of the Magi. I enjoyed this book.
December 21, 2008
This is a modern story based on the Gift of the Magi. If you know that story, then this book is predictable.
January 22, 2009
Modern retelling of O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi."
December 13, 2009
this was a unique take on "the gift of the magi" I really enjoyed it and it was a quick 20 minute read.
January 15, 2011
This was an interesting retelling of "The Gift of the Magi" story.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews