Little Jerry’s Christmas
by Joseph S. Bonsall

Little Jerry was ten years old and very, very unhappy. He could hear his mother crying in the other room, and he just hated to see her feeling sad. It always made him feel sad, as well. Of course, it was his father’s fault, as usual, and that made it worse.

On top of it all, it was Christmas Eve, a time when everyone should be happier. Earlier that day little Jerry and his mom had walked over to the old used car lot on Sampson Street, where they bought a pretty cool tree from old man Haggerty. Mr. Haggerty sold trees every year. Most of the neighborhood families bought their trees there. It was tradition.

In Jerry’s opinion, it was a darn good thing Haggerty sold trees at Christmastime because hardly anyone ever bought a car from the guy. It seemed the same old cars and trucks were sitting there all year long. He knew Emily Haggerty quite well. She was in his class at school, and he could tell she didn’t have very much, but........ Who did?

Jerry and his mother had dragged the tree on home, retrieved the old stand and decorations from the basement, and put it up in a corner of the living room. It looked great, too. Lots of blinking lights, tinsel, balls of all kinds, and the most wonderful, white angel on the very top of the tree.

The angel seemed to look right at you no matter where you stood. Little Jerry loved that beautiful angel. Mom had had it for as long as he could remember. In actuality, she had had that angel since her own childhood.

There was also a small manger scene that Jerry’s mom always put at the foot of the tree. She said is was so they would “never forget the real meaning of Christmas!” It had a place for one bright light in the back and, when lit up, the baby Jesus would shine. It was very cool!

Jerry lay in his bed, stared out of the back window, and thought of his father. He didn’t exactly hate Big Jerry, but sometimes he didn’t like him very much at all. His mother had explained to him over and over that his father was different than most men because he fought in a war. Then she always added that ‘he was a good man, a hard working provider for the family, and he loved us all very much!’

Well, sometimes it was hard for little Jerry to reconcile all of this and place “good man” in the same thought pattern with the stumbling drunk who entered the house about once a week. His mom called them, “binges!”

Sometimes his dad was just fine for a long time. He would come home at night, eat dinner, be nice to him and his mom, go to bed and get up early the next morning and head for the factory. Big Jerry did work hard for a living. There was never a doubt about that. He was a maintenance man and electrician, and he was a very valuable employee at whatever firm he worked. But a good “binge” could bring on a rapid change in employment from time to time.

One never knew when this would happen. All of a sudden, a given Friday would come around and Jerry’s dad just didn’t come home. Sometimes he was only gone for the weekend, but other times he was gone for weeks. That was when Big Jerry had to find a new job and a new boss........ and a new paycheck!

On occasion Jerry’s mom would cut a binge short by sending her son out on a search mission. Little Jerry would board his bike and cruise all over the northeast part of the city looking for his father. The kid knew where just about every bar was located, which was really something, as there seemed to be a “tavern” on every other corner.

Once he found Big Jerry, usually slumped down low and drunk on a barstool, at some place called the Shamrock or whatever the place might be called, the kid would pedal hard for home and “rat out” his dad’s present location. Then, a call would go out to one or two of the men in the neighborhood to “go and get him!”

And they would. It was not very pretty or very inspiring.

As he was on this Christmas Eve, Jerry would always lay in his room, stare at the ceiling, and wonder which drunk would come home this time. There were actually three. The ‘funny drunk,’ who would be laughing and making jokes until he collapsed into a coma, the ‘mean drunk,’ who was like a miserable time bomb that could do a lot of damage to a wall or a door or even his wife or son. Then there was what the boy referred to as the, ‘sad, army guy drunk.’ This drunk was perhaps the most bothersome of all, because, on some level, he broke down all of little Jerry’s shields of defense.

It was easy to ignore the funny drunk and easy to hate the mean drunk........ But the sad army drunk just broke little Jerry’s heart. His father, who would smell of beer mixed with cheap whiskey, cigarettes, and Hershey bars, just sat and wept like a little boy. He would hug his son and tell him he was sorry for all of his shortcomings. He would hint at the fact that he had lost some good friends in the war and that they were heroes. He said it should have been him who was killed in that explosion.

Eventually, his mom would help Big Jerry to bed and once there, she would cradle him like a little boy, sing to him........ and pray for him.

His mom had explained to the boy over and over that his father was that way because of the war and that little Jerry should never give up on him for no matter what........ “He IS your FATHER!”

The boy was not stupid. He could see that somewhere along the way his father had suffered a great sadness, and fighting in a war had to be just awful. But in little Jerry’s opinion it was “still no good reason to act like a jerk!”

And besides, it was CHRISTMAS! The tree was all lit up and his father was in some bar drinking boilermakers. It was just not right!

Then little Jerry began to hear a low murmuring sound emanating from up the hall. It seemed like someone was whispering. He crawled out of bed and, catlike, crept down the hallway and put his ear against the front bedroom door that was shared by his parents. The voice he heard was his mom. She was praying. As long as the boy would live, he would never forget his mother’s words on that Christmas Eve.

Dear Precious and Heavenly Father, I ask you tonight to look after my husband. He IS a good man, and he has suffered greatly and been through so much. I pray tonight, Heavenly Father, that on this Christmas Eve you might see fit to bless him and forgive him and love him. And if it be Thy will, bring him home to this house and to me and to his son, who DO love him so very much. We need him here, oh Lord, and he needs YOU........ in his heart and in his life. You are the Master of all and You have said in Your Word that You would lift our heavy burdens. Well, Lord, I just cannot take much more. Please, God, make him stop drinking. Help him to live with the deaths of those other soldiers and be the husband and father that he should be. God, I know that You are able to do this and, on this night when many years ago You saw fit to give us Your only, precious Son, I thought that perhaps you might have mercy on a mother and HER son who really need a blessing. But only if it be in Your will. Thank you........ in Jesus name........ Amen.

Little Jerry wiped the tears that were streaming down his own face, crept back down the hall, and then went downstairs to the living room. He sat on the couch and stared up at the angel, who was perched at the very top of the tree in all of his lit up glory.

He noted that there were no presents beneath the tree as of yet, but there would be a few there by morning. His mom always went to work around Christmas so they could afford some presents under the tree. His mom always waited until little Jerry was fast asleep and put the gifts under the tree before the sun came up. Jerry figured she always ate the cookies and drank the milk that he had set out for Santa the night before, but he never let her know that he knew!

The angel seemed to stare at the boy as it always did. Little Jerry stared right back. After awhile the boy found himself speaking to the beautiful ornament that lived in a box behind the tool shed for fifty-one weeks of the year. He felt a little dumb but........ Why not?

“Mister Angel,” the boy whispered. “I know that there are angels for real. My mom taught me that they are everywhere and that each of us has a special one just to watch over us kids. So, if it is not too much trouble, could you please speak to God and ask Him to answer my mom’s prayers tonight? Please bring my father home, ummmm sober, if that’s okay. Also, please tell God that I love Him, too, and I thank Him for Baby Jesus........ Amen.”

And with that........ little Jerry went back upstairs, curled beneath his covers, and fell into a very deep sleep.

Big Jerry, as usual, was feeling sad and alone. He sat at the end of the bar and ordered another round. A tall draft beer and a shot of Four Roses to go with it. This was about his fifth boilermaker of the night, and he was already starting to feel a bit better.

But soon that would change. It was always this way.

A range of alcohol-induced emotions always culminated in a bad ending. A drunk and dark hole from which there seemed no escape. Visions of young men in a desert, laughing and smoking cigarettes, and then something slipped........ they were all gone........ but him.

Big Jerry could just not come to grips with these visions, so he drank until he passed out, usually asking God for forgiveness.

“Forgiveness........ for what?” asked the tall blond-haired man in what seemed to be a white or cream colored suit and tie, who now occupied the bar stool beside Jerry.

Big Jerry’s head had been bowed down low. His forehead almost touching the end of the bar when he heard the voice of the man seated beside him.
He raised up and looked into a pair of deep, dark blue eyes, the likes of which he had never seen in his life........ and answered.

“Forgiveness........ for just being alive,” he slurred.

“Life is a great gift, Jerry,” the man answered. “It is not your fault that Sergeant Brisco and Private First Class Benton are not here today. That was NOT your decision to make, you know.”

“But I could have........”

“Could have what, Jerry? You were a few yards away getting ammo when the mortar hit. Simple as that. The world revolves. Things happen........ we turn left or we turn right. We go up. We go down. We live........ we die.

“There was nothing you could have done that day.” He continued. “The war was hard enough with all the killing and death everywhere........ no reason to keep blaming yourself for something you had no control over.”

“But........ Sir........ I........” murmured Big Jerry.

“Get in the ball game, Soldier, you have a precious wife and son at home right now who love you........ and need you. Besides, it is CHRISTMAS........ sober up, Man........ and that is an order.”

Big Jerry began to feel his head clear up. His whole body began to tremble and shake, and he began to weep uncontrollably.

After pulling himself together a bit, he again looked into the deep, blue eyes of the impeccably-dressed man on the next stool and asked softly, “Who ARE you, Sir”

“I am just another soldier as well, Jerry, and by the authority of HE, Who sent me to this wretched and foul smelling place........ HE, Who holds the universe in the palm of His hand........ HE, Who holds the keys of life and death........ HE, Who was born of a virgin on this very day, two thousand years ago and died on a cross for YOU, Jerry........ by HIS authority I plead with you to get your act together and go home to your family........ to seek the will of Jesus Christ in your life and to quit all of this drinking and feeling sorry for yourself. Be the man that HE wants you to be. It IS possible to do this, Jerry, I assure you. Have faith in HIM. Accept CHRIST into your heart and life as your Savior and go HOME! Go before you lose it all........ Merry Christmas, Jerry.”

Jerry again seemed to lift his head from the edge of the bar and found that the man was gone.

“Hey, Marty,” Jerry yelled to the bartender and the proprietor of Marty’s Bar and Grill on Blake Street. “Did you get the name of that man in the fancy suit?”

“What man, Bub?” questioned Marty. “Only you and me in this place tonight, and we are both about to be gone, because I am closing ‘er up and going to the house.”

“Never mind,” answered Big Jerry as he put on his jacket and headed for the door. There seemed to be a new purpose in his being and a fresh spring in his step that did not go unnoticed by the bartender.

“Hey, big guy, how did you sober up so quick?” asked Marty who was in the process of cashing out the register behind the bar. “A minute ago you were comatose, Man........ anyhow, Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas, Marty.”

Big Jerry ran out of Marty’s Bar and Grill and headed towards home. But first he had a few stops to make.

Little Jerry was awakened by the sound of Christmas music. Ahhhhhh, another tradition. His mom always played music in order to wake him up on Christmas morning. He could hear Elvis singing “White Christmas” in the living room downstairs. But there was another sound, a mechanical sound of sorts. The boy leapt out of bed and ran downstairs taking the steps two at a time. When he reached the downstairs landing he stopped short and stared at a miracle. He could not believe what he was seeing.

There was a wooden platform that took up almost the entire living room, and there was a lit up city built upon the platform with trains going in circles, and lights blinking on and off, and little people walking down little streets and........ it was like magic.

The tree was off to the side of the platform, and there were presents galore around the bottom, all wrapped up in the prettiest papers and bows that little Jerry had ever seen. But best of all, his father stood there, tall and proud with one arm around his mom’s shoulder, and he was smiling at his son.

He then knelt down and spread his arms wide and received a running little boy full into his arms. Big Jerry tightly hugged his son and said, “Merry Christmas........ I am home now........ God has forgiven me and so has your mother. I vow to you, Son, that in the name of Jesus Christ, I will never drink again. We are going to be okay from here on in...... I promise. I love you, Son!!”

Little Jerry first looked at his mom, who was smiling and weeping, and then he glanced back at his dad........ the GOOD man........ the sober one.

Then he looked up into the face of the angel, who stood on top of the tree all lit up, dressed in white, blue eyes glowing beneath his blond locks and whispered two words........

“Thank you!”


Merry Christmas....... JSB
November 28, 2005