The Arrogance of Elegance

Part the Nineteenth

I thought often about what wise little Anne had said about apologies and what I had done wrong for days afterward. I looked over my life, noticing all of the times I would give a white lie or manipulate a situation to go how I thought it should go, and I was ashamed. I had a lot of things to talk about and apologize to God as well as the people I might have hurt. Well, if the things were small, I didn't think I would bring something up from five years ago just to apologize, but through my acting differently, I would hope to achieve a better effect.

But Christmas Eve dinner was ready, so the maid interrupted my thoughts to beckon me to the dining room. I put down my journal in which I was processing my thoughts, to follow the maid downstairs. I was greeted by the children before I sat down at the table to not what I expected. I remembered last Christmas at Fernsbury we had a grand feast, yet in front of me was measly in comparison. There was a thin roasted turkey as well as a bowl of potatoes and a pitcher of gravy.

Besides the green beans and rolls, there was nothing else. I sat there awkwardly as I tried to hide my surprise. I had thought they were going through some financial troubles, but I had no idea the seriousness of it. I had to come up with a remedy or solution as quickly as I could. I couldn't bear to see my sister's family in such low times. Yet, as I looked around the table, all the children seemed delighted at the meal presented to them which made me feel even more guilty than I already was. Here I was concerned that their money would affect their happiness when of course it didn't. They were all together for the holidays which made me ache for Papa. I knew I should stay longer in London, but I didn't know how much longer. Poor Papa was alone for the holidays. Thank goodness, I sent out his present a month prior, or else he'd be alone and empty-handed.

"Let us pray," John Irving said, as I looked over at the man of the house. "Lord, Who is our Holy Provider—we thank Thee for Your provisions, the food, and our family. We thank Thee for bringing us Magdelline when we needed her most and for our newest addition to the family, our dear Cynthia. And most of all, we thank Thee for Your Son, Jesus, Whom we are celebrating today and tomorrow. We thank Thee that You sent Your Son, who was born in a manger, to redeem us from our sins through His death and resurrection. Thank You for bringing the Light of Your Son into the world to quench the darkness. In Jesus's Name, amen."

"Amen," I replied quietly as I thought about what John said. I had almost forgotten the "lowly" birth of Christ. He, the King of Kings, was born in a manger in an old animal shed. I wouldn't have wanted baby Cynthia to be born in a manger, yet the most perfect Man to ever live was born there. And I was here worrying about the amount of food. How arrogant I was to only think about the elegance and how things looked. I set it in my mind that I would change my heart. I am sorry, Lord, I thought, feeling the heaviness of conviction weigh on my heart. Help me to change.