Ladies’ Night Out: A Christmas Story

And they continued stedfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers. Acts 2:42

Part One: 1994

Edie’s invitation didn’t specify so I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to bring my daughter. Who brings a two-tear-old to a party? But I didn’t have the heart to leave her at home. Annie, my first and only child, knew the ladies were having a get together–and that there would be food. Plus, in her words: she was almost a lady, wasn’t she?

In the four years since we married, I’d not been out in the evening without my husband. It was a daring and exciting drive down the dark, frosty highway in Faye’s white Lincoln. Faye was ten years older than I, a deacon’s wife with two grown sons, one in the army and one living down in the Lower Forty-Eight. Lately, our family had been spending most Sunday afternoons taking Sunday dinner at Dan and Faye’s house. “Gives me a chance to clean out my fridge,” she’d say. She chatted, sometimes under her breath, about relatives I’d never met as if I was part of her extended family. I struggled to keep track of all the names. Unlike myself, Faye could talk and cook at the same time. I asked her one time why she and Dan did so much extra work at the church–wallpaper in the bathroom, new fridge in the kitchen, updated lights in the fellowship hall. “It needed doing,” was all she said.

I anticipated a fun evening, but I missed my husband already and was glad I had Annie with me. I’ve never been to this kind of ladies’ gathering before, so I didn’t know it is customary to bring a gift for the hostess. Faye saved my bacon and produced an extra gift out of a shopping bag on the seat between us. “You can say it’s from you,” she said.

We turned into Edie’s driveway. The parking area was plowed smoothe and clean and Faye’s tires squeaked as we rolled up to the house, a charming, neat-as-a-pin New England style cottage. There were several cars there already. I reached for the door handle, hesitated and then asked, “Faye, you think they’ll be comfortable around a knucklehead like me?” I’d been saved only a short time and had been attending church with these ladies for only a few months. I was a newcomer, a baby. “No reason they shouldn’t,” she answered. I guessed that was meant to encourage me.

I extracted Annie from her car seat, and we all crunched up the steps to the front porch. Faye banged on the storm door and, without waiting for an answer, walked in. We followed her into a tiny laundry room and then up two more steps to the kitchen. There were several older ladies seated at a small dining table under a large window that had a plexiglass bird feeder attached to the sill. The chickadees joined our hen party from the other side of the glass as if they were invited guests. They, like the ladies, seemed right at home.

A wooden snowman collection smiled a welcome from across the living room. My initial impression of this gathering was warmth. The welcoming smiles, the spiced candles, the carefully arranged buffet, the soft Christmas music. The country decor transformed the modest house into a magazine feature layout. Someone took my coat. I began to relax.

Since I was “so young and thin” I was directed to the narrow seat under the window. Annie plunked herself down on an overstuffed loveseat next to an end table with a smallish Christmas tree on it and eyed the gifts underneath. One of the ladies prayed a blessing over the food–Really? it’s just finger food!–and I was encouraged to jump the line and load my plate, which I did.

Betty, our pastor’s wife sat across from me, sipping peppermint tea. She spoke little and smiled much, gracing the table rather than presiding over it. Our hostess, Edie, checked the flame under a chafing dish and added another stick of butter to it for dipping the crabmeat. I watched her rearrange the plates of cookies, spread red and green napkins into a fan shape, and then return a stray piece of fudge back to its proper place on a snowman-shaped platter. She caught me looking at her and smiled. Faye brought a napkin and a paper plate filled with goodies to Annie then wiped the counter around the sink before sitting down again.

Considering my east-coast background, I should have been bored with this low key, unpretentious tea party. This was unlike any gal bash I had known. Where was the raucous laughter, the husband bashing, the competitive undercurrent, the off-color humor, the wine coolers, the gossip?

It was my first day of school. I was in the right place.

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Part Two: 2004

Jackie’s headlights shined into our front window as she pulled into our yard. Jackie was our new neighbor from up the highway. Faye had moved away to be near family so, me still being night-blind, Jackie was my ride this year. “Mommy, don’t forget Edie’s gift. It’s under the tree still.” Annie gave me a once over. “And your boot lace is untied.”

“Thanks. Anything else?”

“Nope, you look nice. Jackie’s waiting.”

I turned to my husband who grinned and zipped my coat the final four inches. Our three boys were already digging into the pizza I had made for them that afternoon. It was going to be a fun no-girls evening at home.

Annie was waiting on the back seat when I finally climbed into Jackie’s Land Rover. The snow fell swift and heavy, rushing into the headlights and then whizzing over and away behind us. Despite the weather, Jackie was chatty and looking forward to getting to know the ladies.

“Get your shopping done yet?”

“No. Annie and I are supposed to go to town tomorrow if the roads aren’t too bad. “And I’ve got a few more things to order online. Hopefully they’ll get here in time.”

We turned into Edie’s freshly plowed driveway and parked next to someone’s SUV. We each grabbed gifts off the back seat and then clomped up to the door. I banged twice then entered, slipped my boots off and led my little procession into the kitchen. Most of the usual faces greeted us and a few new ones too.

Betty’s daughter-in-law Cheryl, a chirpy ex-cheerleader, beamed a smile at me from her seat under the window as Jackie slid in beside her. “I followed your suggestion for seasoning my cast iron pan and it came out beautifully.”

“Great. Just don’t use detergent on it till it ages some,” I reminded her. “How’s Betty today?”

“A little better, I think. Hard to tell. She has another appointment on Friday. She asked us to pray for her.”

I headed for the bedroom to deposit our coats. When I returned, Annie was helping Edie drop scoops of vanilla ice cream into the cranberry punch. “Scooping ice-cream just kills my arthritis. Thanks, Annie.” Then Edie caught my eye and whispered to me, “Would you mind saying the blessing tonight?”

“Sure. Are we ready? It all looks so good. Absolutely no diet tonight.” Edie nodded to me as she stuck a little golden spoon into the spinach dip.

“Lord, we have so much to thank you for. For the safe arrival of Faye’s grandbaby down there in Montana and for bringing Dan through his surgery; for strength and perseverance for Betty during her illness and for her faithful prayers for all of us all these years. Lord, please give the doctors wisdom and help for Betty during this uncertain time. We thank you for the new souls added to your church this year; for the sweet blessings of fellowship; for your unchanging mercy, goodness and caring provision. Thank you that we are free to meet and honor your name without fear; thank you for strength in difficulties. Thank you that we can know you and that you hear us. Guard our lips, Lord, and let this time we have together be pleasing to you. Thank you for all the wonderful food and the hands that prepared it. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

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Part Three: 2024

Annie texted me a photo of her holding a huge king crab with the caption “Good eating, but not the same as Edie’s buffet. Have fun tonight with the ladies. See you in a few weeks.” I smiled and texted back a little red heart, a Christmas tree, and a chocolate chip cookie emoji.

Since we don’t run my car in the winter months (Faye’s old white Lincoln which she gifted me back when she and Dan moved out of state to be near family), my husband was my ride this year. He and our boys would spend the evening with Pastor Bill and some of the other men and then pick me up later.

I was early so there were no cars in front of Edie’s house yet tonight. My husband noticed the parking area had several inches of snow on it. “The boys and I will get out here tomorrow to clear this new snow.” I blew him a kiss and waved as he drove away.

I knocked softly on the outer door and went in. The usual spread, scaled back but still elegant, was laid out on the counters. Less dishes, fewer decorations, but still the same cozy, welcoming atmosphere. Edie sat at her kitchen table with a cup of steaming coffee. I dropped my coat on the sofa and took a seat opposite the window so I could watch the chickadees.

Our eyes met but we were silent for several seconds. Then I said, “You put up his little tree, I’m glad.”

“Yeah. I almost didn’t, but . . . I couldn’t not. And you. How are you doing?” she asked carefully. “Never mind. You’re probably doing like I’m doing. I’m . . . I can’t . . . This empty house . . .”

“I know, Edie. It’s hard. Really hard. So heavy. Sometimes just breathing is more than I can manage. But, you know, it cheers me some to know our boys are together.”

“Yes, but first one, then six months later the other. It’s unbelievable. Just unbelievable. Why did this happen? Why?“

Trying hard to keep it together I said, “I don’t know why, Edie. God is good and He has His plan–this I do know. We just have to hang on to that. There’s nothing else. No one else.” I felt like I didn’t have much to offer her in the way of comfort. I barely had enough energy to deal with my own battered heart. My tank was nearly as low as hers. It helps to share your pain with another–it helps a lot. But it does not halve your suffering.

Edie went on, “Yes, but first Betty, and then our boys. And now Pete. Betty led me to the Lord; she stood by me all those years. And Pete and I–we were together forty-two years. It’s–I don’t want this. it’s all just too much.” I squeezed her hand as a tear slid from behind her glasses. “The days are so long. What will I do with myself now? Who needs an old shoe like me?

A knock at the door drew Cheryl into our moment like breezy morning sunshine. She was followed into the warmth of the kitchen by two twenty-somethings, each toting a wailing infant in a car carrier.

“Hi ladies,” chirped Cheryl, her contagious smile diffusing cheerfulness into the room like a cinnamon spice candle. “These are my new friends, Heather and Jennifer. They just moved here this summer. Our husbands all work in the same building but in different departments.” Smiles and nods all around.

The babies were liberated from their confinement and Edie and I each took one as the young mothers took off their coats and slid in beside each other on the narrow seat under the window. They blocked my view of the chickadees, but I didn’t mind.

Edie gazed at the infant in her arms, “It’s been a long time since I held a baby this little. I’d almost forgotten how perfect they are. He’s . . . beautiful.”

I smiled, then whispered to Cheryl, “Would you please ask the blessing over the food?”

As Cheryl began, I glanced over at Edie who lifted her head and looked back at me.

Our eyes locked but we said nothing. Sometimes, no words are needed.

The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, To be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed. Titus 2:3-5