Picture a Christmas chapter 8

I lovingly wrapped the painting in an old sheet for the walk to town. I was sad to part with it, but a deal’s a deal. I hoped Reverend Haddox would be pleased with what I had created. I had a feeling he would be. After a kiss for Madeline, I headed out.

The church was dark and quiet when I walked in. The doors were unlocked so I assumed Reverend Haddox was here, but it was so quiet that it made me wonder. I checked his office first, but it was empty. I slowly wandered around the halls, feeling slightly out of place.

At last I came to the doors that I knew must lead to the chapel. I hesitated for a moment, but decided to go in anyway. The doors were heavy, but swung open without a sound. Inside, light filtered through the large stained glass windows, giving everything in the room an ethereal appearance. I searched for Reverend Haddox. He was sitting at the end of a bench towards the front of the chapel, intently reading the Bible. I began slowly walking towards him. A floorboard creaked and I thought he would look up, but he didn’t seem to notice. When I was a few feet away, I stopped, hoping he would notice me and look up. He turned a page. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, I coughed.

He looked at me for a few seconds before recognition dawned on his face. “Ahh, Mason, good to see you!” Then his gaze shifted to the wrapped painting under my arm. A broad smile spread across his face and his eyes looked hungrily at the painting. I smiled. “Would you like to see it?” “Yes, yes! Of course!” I unwrapped the painting and handed it to him. His eyes locked onto it and he stared for several seconds without moving or speaking. Slowly, tears welled up in his eyes, and he brushed them away before they could drip onto the painting. “It is more than I had imagined. You have done well, Mason Farley,” he said in a whisper. I looked at my work in his hands, and knew what he said was true. It was not a large painting, but even I felt the power that it contained.

Joseph sat close to Mary with his arm around her, gazing into the face of the Son of God. Mary held the babe tenderly in her arms, and her lips lightly touched his cheek. The child himself looked up with large, clear eyes and one of his hands tightly held a strand of Mary’s hair.

Reluctantly, Reverend Haddox tore his eyes away from the painting. “Now, I’m sure you want that check I promised you.” I followed him to his office. Handing me the painting, he flipped on the light next to the door and began rummaging in his desk. Soon he emerged holding a check, which he handed to me. I gave him back the painting, and stared for a moment at the piece of paper in my hands. I had dreamed and planned for this money. I had never held this much in my hands before, and I knew it was a dream come true. Happiness was sitting in my palm, and yet something held me back.

Shaking my head, I handed the check back. “I can’t take money for this,” I said, nodding towards the painting cradled in his arms. “But all the hours you spent, the time, the energy? How can you deny payment?” the Reverend asked, clearly puzzled. “Oh no, Reverend, I have been paid already,” I responded with a smile. “I am a better man because of this. Better and kinder than I was before, and that is the greatest payment any man could ever receive.”

The End