The Christmas Quilt and the Zion Creek Ladies Circle (Chapter 3)

tathelmillerwriter
5 days ago
8 min read

In case you missed chapters one and two of The Christmas Quilt and the Zion Creek Ladies Circle and want to go back and read from the beginning, below are the links.

Chapter 1: https://www.tathelmiller.com/post/the-christmas-quilt-and-the-ladies-of-zion-creek

Chapter 2: https://www.tathelmiller.com/post/the-christmas-quilt-and-the-ladies-of-zion-creek

Come into the Gathering Room at Zion Creek. Make yourself at home. Drink a cup of coffee, hot chocolate, tea--eat a slice of pecan pound cake, cinnamon roll, or munch on Estelle's famous Moravian Sugar Cookies or Bernice's peanut butter cookies. And then pull up a chair at the quilt frame--join in the laughter and sometimes tears, as the Ladies of Zion Creek share their Christmas stories of days past, as they stitch together a very special Christmas quilt.

"What is happening to my Mama I thought? Pink lips??

"And then Mrs. Brown reached a little deeper into her bag and got out this little paper book and she laid it on the table--inching it closer to Mama--and all I could see were four big letters at the top of the book.

A V O N"

The wind danced through the porch door–catching the corner of the lace curtain hanging over the window–the one where I was hiding. My Mama looked up and she sees me–I know she does!

She doesn’t say a word. Startled, I hit the floor on my hands and knees and quietly crawled out the back door to find my brothers and sisters down by the hog pen.

“Where you been?” sister Susie asks me.

“None of your beeswax!” my knees, still shaking a little.

I know without a doubt Mama saw me behind that curtain.

We hear Mrs. Brown’s Chevy crank up. And we see the black smoke rolling out the muffler. I still don’t understand why back in the day, people thought a car would only start if the gas was pressed wide open–I mean foot to the floor–pedal to the metal, and then on repeat a few times.

Our Grandpa, I remember he did this a lot–not just starting the car. He was a short man–a Chevy man too, and he had this truck. One day me and my brother Johnny got to ride to town with him–go to the cattle sale. Which I never understood that–we never bought a cow–but he bought other things like tools and one time we bought a goat–we named him Billy.

Back to my story–anyho’ we were riding up this big hill on our way home and we got behind this slow car. Next thing I know me and Johnny–our heads hit the edge of the back glass–Grandpa was yelling–you ole heffer–get out of the way! Stomping on the gas pedal–I mean stomped on it. He jerked the wheel left--me and Johnny sliding across the seat--we went sailing past that slow car–the speedometer on his truck, I know hit 45 or 50!!!

What’s a heffer, Grandpa? Johnny asked.

“It’s an ole woman who can’t drive!

But Grandpa–that was a man driving that car, Johnny said.

Be quiet! Sit there and ride and don’t tell your Mama or Daddy your heads hit the back glass. Either of you bleeding?

Wilma, I’m growing older here by the minute–our stories are supposed to be about Christmas and you have gabbed and gabbed and I haven’t heard one thing about Santa, a tree, Rudolph, Frosty, or baby Jesus–now hurry it up!

Shut your mouth Estelle! War and Peace was not written in a day!

Politely Bea asks, “Do we need another break ladies?”

Cora looks up from her sewing–a twinkle in her eye as she looks into Anna Kate’s smile. She sure does love her child. And Minnie, like Bea–she’s trying to keep the "war" from breaking out--here in the Gathering Room.

“Okay, please continue Wilma. It’s almost lunch time and we all have to get home–start our cooking and baking for tomorrow’s Sabbath!”

Thank you, Minnie. Now, where was I?

The part where Mama was about to beat your tail for being in the house and spying on her when you wasn’t suppos’d too!

Estelle, Mama never gave me a spanking for that!

Truthfully she should have though. I disobeyed her.

Back to Mrs. Brown, the AVON lady.

Ole Mrs. Brown–she kept coming. She was a regular at our house. Once a week or every two weeks–

Remember when I told you Mama treated all of our neighbors and church family and strangers –with kindness. Well, there was this one time–it was a little questionable.

Mama was hanging clothes out on the line–us young'uns were picking green beans in the bean patch–and on occasion--trying to catch a few field mice. And then, it happened.

Right then and there, Mama grabbed up her basket and yelled for us kids to get in the house–hurry she yelled–NOW!! Leave the beans in the baskets!

And we all ran as fast as we could pushing and shoving our way through the back door. She was the last to come in--like herding baby calves. She locked the screen door behind us.

Get under the table!

My brother Boone questioned my Mama’s good sense at that moment. Not a good thing!

She shouted, Get. Under. The. Table! NOW!

All six of us crawled under the table–scared half out of our wits! Johnny whispered, Mama I gotta pee! And she looked at him–her eyes ablaze, and said, Hold it!!

And then it happened!! A knock at the back door–I just knew at that very moment the devil himself had come to get us all. I thought, surely Mama wouldn't leave the beans out in the garden unless it was a serious matter.

Tears started coming out of my eyes–rolling down my dirt-stained face. Mama looked at me–her finger up to her mouth–sshh. And she smiled. I knew right then and there the devil wouldn't get us–Jesus had us–along with Mama.

The knocking went on for a few more minutes–felt like hours and then it stopped. The roar of the engine sounded–almost like a trumpet. Mama raised up slowly–crawling out from under the kitchen table–motioning for us to stay put for just a few minutes longer. Her bare feet walked softly to the front of the house–I guess making sure whoever was after us was gone.

Don’t leave us Mama! I thought! Us brothers and sisters, we huddled closer together.

Boone, the meanest and oldest brother of ours–he loved to tease us–play jokes on us. Mama hadn’t been gone a minute but to us it felt like days and that lying brother of ours–he looked us all straight in the eyes and said, Something got Mama!

Abraham Boone! I heard that!!

We all jumped. Poor Johnny grabbing his–you know what. He still had to pee. Mama meant business when she called us by our full names.

Y'all can come out now. Johnny, go pee. The rest of you--have a seat at the table and I’ll get y'all a biscuit and glass of milk. Then we can go back outside--get back to work.

None of us uttered a word–we were all still scared stiff, that is–except for crazy Boone.

After Mama sat the plate of biscuits on the table–gave each of us a cup and told us to pour our own glass of milk from the pitcher–she sat down herself.

Young'uns, I’m not proud of what I did just now. I’ll explain. As I was hanging out the clothes on the line–I saw her. Mrs. Brown, she was at Aunt Lena’s house and I knew her next stop would be ours. I love Mrs. Brown, I do. She’s a fine Christian woman and works hard to provide for her family–her husband–sick and all. And she sells a good product. AVON is the best!

And it’s supposed to rain tomorrow and today, the laundry still needs to get done–there’s beans still to pick--waiting for us in the garden and your baby sister Estelle is not feeling the best. I didn’t have the two hours to visit with Mrs. Brown today and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So I hid from her--we all hid from her. It’s something I’m not proud of–ashamed really–and I’ll ask the good Lord for forgiveness. I will.

She’ll come back next week.

And Mrs. Brown did come back–as faithful as the sun rose every morning–she came back. And the week after we hid from her–on her next visit–Mama made a special cake–a German Chocolate cake. Mrs. Brown’s favorite! I’ve never seen Mrs. Brown any happier than when I helped her carry her cake out to her car. She said, now Wilma–don’t you drop it and sit it right there on the floor board–next to my “magic” work box.

Christmas??!!, Estelle yells–pointing at her watch.

Anna Kate, honey would you hand me my purse again?

Anna Kate places Wilma’s purse in her lap. And Wilma reaches into her purse and pulls out a little bag–carefully covering it with her hands, as to hide it.

Thank you, sweetheart. The Christmas after the summer we hid from Mrs. Brown–Mama and Daddy sat us young’uns down and told us it had been a hard year–and not to expect too much in our stockings–and always reminding us–Christmas was not about the gifts. It was all about Jesus. Still is.

Mama and Daddy always made Christmas special for us young'uns . We would walk down to the woods–close to the pond and pick us out a cedar tree. And Mama made each of us a little stocking and she would hang them on our tree. We couldn’t hang them on the fireplace–they might catch a spark and cause our house to burn down--so said, Daddy.

And Wilma–her hands aged–her thumb and index fingers–with arthritis soaking in–she unzipped the bag and took out what resembled a sea shell. Her hands–she cupped this pink oyster shell–giving each of us a slow--close-up look.

This was what was in my stocking that year–my gift–my very own AVON refillable powder compact–isn’t it beautiful! I also received one of those sample tiny tubes of lipstick! I was a little disappointed it wasn’t pink–like Mama wore on special occasions. It was a shiny clear color. Mama said, only when I got older would I be allowed to wear a darker color–like fushia or rose. Oh, and I almost forgot--I got a little bottle of the sweetest smelling spray--Sweet Honesty, it was called. I was the happiest girl in the world that day!

Estelle, you were only three that Christmas and I’m sure you don’t remember me getting all dressed up the next Sunday for Sunday School and preaching –shiny lips and all! But I remember you and your gift that year–Mama had made you a little rag doll–the dress was made out of feed sack cloth–the fabric had the tiniest blue and pink little flowers on it. Mama had made the doll’s hair out of her knitting yarn–the hair was the color of yours–golden brown–tipped by the sun. And the doll had the biggest smile! You squealed when Mama reached in your stocking and handed you that doll. You were as happy as a pig in the mud! You carried that doll around for years–cried when Mama had to wash it.

And ladies, that is my Christmas story!!

And with that, Wilma opened her pink oyster shelled compact and powdered her nose. Puckering her lips, she says, I may need just a touch more of lipstick. She rolls up the lipstick from the tube, ever so slightly, Aw–yes, AVON–Cherry Red.

The ladies all clap--laugh–all but one–

And Bernice, she leans closer to Cora–whispering in her ear. “Well, will you look at that? I do believe Estelle has a tear in her eye! We may have just been witness to a miracle! Yes ma’am. I do believe we saw one! Praise the Lord!"