Soon their cart and pony were parked in the
barn and a mouthwatering buffet of pumpkin
pies, snicker doodles, jugs of eggnog and pots
of honey were hauled into the den.
“Well it’s mighty neighborly of you to invite us
in like this, Emmanuel,” said Mister Buttercup.
The badger thought about saying he had not
invited him in at all, but he held his tongue.
“We were on our way to the Hollyhocks’ Christ-
mas party,” he continued, “when our pony
simply couldn’t trudge another step in the
snow. We were going to turn back until we saw
your lights on and decided to drop in.”
No sooner had the Buttercups hung up their
coats and scarves than there came another
knock at the door. Hezekiah opened the door
again and cried, “Oh come in, come in. There’s
plenty of room.” Before Mister Grimsley could
stop them, 20 mice scurried in and assembled
themselves in two rows in front of the fire-
place. They were a family of mice who lived in
a wheat field three miles away and they called
themselves “The Wakefield Warblers.” They
stopped in every year and he dutifully listened
to their carols.
The fat daddy mouse played the accordion and
others played tiny trumpets and horns. As the
choir piped a lusty rendition of “Silent Night,”
Mister Grimsley couldn’t help noticing the
irony of the song. His night was anything but
silent now that he had a houseful of interlopers
to entertain. After the song, the choir disbanded
and raided the snack table.
Mr. Grimsley peeked through the window, won-
dering when the storm would let up. The snow
was becoming so deep that no pony cart would
make it more than a hundred yards before
getting blown into a drift. Any hope of a quiet
evening that lingered in his heart plummeted
when he saw Spunkmeyer and Mister Buttercup
trudging through the snow carrying a small
Christmas tree from the barn.
The front door burst open and the two creatures
erected the tree on a makeshift stand in the
corner.
“We’re snowed in, everybody,” announced
Mister Buttercup. “Stoke up the fire and trim
the tree. We are all going to spend Christmas
together, friends!”
Hezekiah fixed a small candle to the top of the
tree with some bailing wire and soon had a
flame flickering beautifully.
Meanwhile, Mister Grimsley stood dumb-
founded by the windowsill trying to take in
all that was happening. One minute he’d been
dozing by the fire all alone and the next
minute, twenty-six brazen intruders possessed
by the Christmas Spirit had converged upon his
home. It was as if Christmas had descended
upon him without warning. He took a sip of
Alice Buttercup’s eggnog and something in it
made his cheeks and the tops of his ears feel
very warm. Not bad. And a piece of apple pie
covered with a slice of melted cheese reminded
him of pleasant nights long ago with his dear
departed mother.
As the old badger stood in the midst of the holi-
day pandemonium that bustled all around, the
Christmas Spirit began to whisper to his heart.
Very quietly, so that no one would notice, he
slipped away to light the fires in his many extra
bedrooms and to turn down the beds for his
guests. He may have forgotten Christmas, said
the voice in his heart, but Christmas had not
forgotten him. And if you were very quiet and
if you looked very closely, you could see the
corners of the badger’s old mouth begin to
wrinkle into a very little smile.
10
December 2015 • SR
SR
It’s Christmas Whether You Like it or Not
by Jeremy Evans
Seattle Area SDB Church
Illustration by Jeremy Evans and Lucia B
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