“What is an exotic?” asked Frankie.
“A plant that does not grow naturally in our climate. This rose belongs to a warmer climate, and that is why we keep it in the house during the winter. Thus God takes care of his children. Heaven is our home, and when the winds blow too coldly and roughly for us here, God transplants us. He has taken Aleck from all the cold and storms to the heavenly garden. We should not mourn for him, Frankie. Does not our Father know best? Then it will be only a little while before we shall be taken—only a few years before we shall all be transplanted into the garden of the Lord. You must try to be happy, my child. You must not forget Aleck, but remember that you have a work to do for Jesus, and a part of that work is to be cheerful and patient, showing that a little boy who loves Jesus need never be unhappy.”
Frankie listened quietly. His mother’s words made a deep impression, and he tried after that to be cheerful, but it was a long time before his face had its wonted brightness.
Later in the autumn, when the maples were in their gayest colors of crimson and gold, a great joy came to Frankie’s home. A letter was received, saying that the father would be with them at Christmas time.
Oh, the preparations that were made for his coming! Frankie worked with his mother, and before winter fairly closed in everything about the house and yard was in perfect order. Then came the waiting, the most difficult task of all. But the even-footed hours will not hurry their pace, so Frankie tries to be patient, and now the day is at hand.
The whole house is made fresh and fragrant with boughs of pine and fir. Only one more night! The father will be at home in the morning.
Frankie thought he would not sleep a wink for the thought of it, but he did sleep soundly; and when he awoke, the sun was shining into the window; and by the bedside stood his mother, with tears in her eyes, and beside her was the tall man with black hair, and smiling, dark eyes, whom he had seen in his dreams, and whose picture he had kissed and called “papa” even when a baby.
It was indeed a “merry Christmas,” and more than that, a joyous, happy one, full of sweet home pleasures and pleasant memories, sanctified by the thought of the dear Christ, God’s best gift—his Christmas gift to a sinful world.
