Christmas Angels Whisper: A Christmas Story

by David L. Asay

Overview

The doctor told Wanda that she had a fourth of an ovary and that child bearing was not an option. God had promised her that she would have children. Was God going to lie to her? God fulfills His promises. After years of waiting and trying, Wanda brought five children into this world and was a mother just as was promised. With the miracle came an unwanted price since we have come to believe that Heaven has a price on some of its most cherished of gifts. It wasn't that it was authored by a loving God, but the seeds of cancer were sown as the gift was made real for five times. This young family would watch their mother succumb to a dreadful disease, slowly leaching the life from her. Wanda had a challenge understanding why the children she had been promised wouldn't be hers to raise to adulthood. Christmas would come that year before she finally died in February and the gift she craved was just to understand God's will in granting the blessing and then seemingly ripping it away in a slow death. Miracles happen to create life and miracles happen to explain why life gets cut short.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781595547040
Publisher:	Elm Hill
Publication date:	08/14/2018
Pages:	84
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.25(d)
Age Range:	12 - 18 Years

About the Author

David L. Asay comes from Bountiful, Utah and lived through the years of this story as the second miracle born to Wanda and Basil Asay. His mother died when he was 12 years old. David graduated from Southern Utah University and received his teaching credentials. For years he has taught young men in his congregation, scouting and Civil Air Patrol. His wife, Jennifer, and four children remain at home in Cedar City, Utah.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

August 1, 1966

Bountiful, Utah

Summer was the amazing time of year! That would be true unless the garden needed weeding or the peaches needed picking. But there was the promise of birthday cake later today, because missing Ellen's birthday was not an option. Six years old and princess of the spoiled brats. We wouldn't be seeing her out pulling weeds in the garden. Oh no, she was taking care of her dolls and probably having a little tea party with her imaginary friends.

It wasn't that we all didn't love our baby sister, but there was only so much of Daddy's favoritism that we could swallow. All four of us older boys were out sweating in the garden thinning beets or pulling weeds. Alan had the assignment to dig up some potatoes. It was Monday, the day after the day of rest. Really funny! Day of Sweat should be the name. I had the privilege of picking the peaches and putting them in a basket. I was sure we would be bottling peaches before the week was over and that would be torture. Dale and Grant were over pulling weeds and I think they threw more clods at each other than pulling weeds. They were a couple years littler and could be expected not to take the chores as seriously.

But if Mom came out and caught them, yes, that would be a sight to watch from a distance! It wasn't that Mom was known for a temper or anything, but chores were chores and she expected that to happen. Mom was tall and thin and she held a firm line with her children as her father had with her. Grandpa Briggs just lived two houses up Center Street and he knew about work as well.

Here we were five children and most of us working our butts off. We knew there would be a little time for a break today because Mom had a doctor appointment again and that meant we could skip off and ride bikes or even have a tomato fight with some of those juicy and rotten tomatoes we forgot to pick last week. Just another hour of this torture and we would be free for a while.

This was Mom's second doctor visit. Seemed like she was just at the doctor last week. I didn't even know she was sick or maybe she was pregnant again. It's been quite a few years since Ellen was born, but it could be possible. If it was confirmed she would probably tell us. She had always told us when she was expecting another addition and she told us of the miracle that it was for her to have children.

Mom had been told around 1948 or 1949 that she wasn't going to have children. They told her that she only had a fourth of an ovary or some such small percentage of an ovary and we had to look up what that meant in the encyclopedia. I guess ovaries produce an egg and that's necessary to make a baby, but I sure didn't want to go into that detail even if I had to read National Geographic.

Well, Mom had been told in a special blessing that she had received when she was a young lady that she would be a mother and now this doctor said that she wouldn't be a mother. This was devastating, but it wasn't going to fly with her because she had this thing called "faith" and the promise made to her. Five kids from a quarter ovary is pretty good proof about who was right and it still made Dr. D smile.

About this time, a devious thought crossed my mind as I picked those peaches. Dale and Grant were having a pretty good time slinging clods at each other and I didn't see any consequences coming. What harm would it be if I found a juicy rotten peach way up high in this tree that the birds wouldn't even peck at? What harm could I do (from hiding) if I launched that peach in a high arch straight over and down exploding between those two lazy boys?! That would be spectacular and even better if they got some goop on them.

The throw was nearly perfect from a guy in training to be a pitcher. Splat down right near Dale and the shock on his face was priceless. He couldn't tell which tree was the hiding place and I was fairly protected up there and laughing quietly. But he knew who did it and I was fairly sure that he had a bit of revenge in his mind. Grant had been surprised, but he was fairly sure my aim was for Dale and not him.

Dale wasn't a squealer and it was unlikely that he would risk leaving his post just in case Mom would catch him hunting me down with a muddy old clod and away from his assigned weeding. On the other hand, Dale could have a temper and rotten peach slime was surely a catalyst. Anger and a wee bit of adrenaline gave me my answer. He would risk coming for me and my smile faded as I planned my next move. Several other peach projectiles looked promising and so did escape.

Making a run for it was promising and I didn't want to be trapped in a tree. I wasn't about to back off either, so I grabbed a couple of prizewinning puke peaches and dropped out of hiding. It took less than two seconds to balance and chuck my P. Bombs and then I was running toward the far side of the house. At least one of my bombs hit home with a pleasing smack, but I was long gone. I could hear Grant whooping with laughter. Alan was still working hard at the potato harvest.

Dale was now red-hot angry. I wanted to get more ammunition, but I had to choose my battles. In these brotherly games, you better believe that sportsmanship was out the window. A couple of clods flew over my left shoulder as I juked to the right and ran on. Coming around the front yard, I heard a sound I had not been anticipating:

"Dale, where are you!!?"

"David, come and bring in your basket."

"Where are you kids?!"

Dale froze. He was clearly not in the garden and Grant was there working hard and gaining brownie points. Dale would have to come up with something and Mom could spot a lie quicker than a potgut could go down his hole. I was even farther away at the front of the house. Dale was the first one back and reported in. He smelled and looked like a splatted peach. He didn't have to tell Mom what had happened and who had done it. This was a no-brainer for superMom.

"David, get over here right now!!"

I had been prepared with the excuse of going to the garage to get another basket, but we both knew that wasn't going to hold water. I skulked over to her from the patio and she stood there with her hands on her hips trying to devise some appropriate punishment while Dale looked like the saint of peach puke.

"So this is what you do when you are supposed to be working!? You get on in the house and sit on a chair for a half hour and then I'm going to think up some appropriate punishment and we're not through with this! I swear I don't know what gets into you sometime!"

For my part, I hated being punished with sitting on a chair. I'd rather pick peaches. But I was benched and Dale just smiled and headed back to his weed-pulling. Mom caught on to that and brought him up short: "Dale, you get over to the hose and wash that filth off of you and then get back in the house and change. Let's add another half hour to your weed-pulling experience as well to make up for the lost time."

All in all, I fared quite well that time. I got chair duty and Dale got weeds. But I got the huge satisfaction of connecting with Dale on that spectacular rotten peach. Probably worth it, right? Mom would be leaving for her appointment soon and freedom would be mine. "Not too shabby, David."

CHAPTER 2

August 1, 1966

Bountiful, Utah

That evening we celebrated Ellen's birthday. She got a few more presents; nothing that I really cared for. I did like that new record that she got for her portable record player. I knew she'd wear out "Puff the Magic Dragon" from someone named Peter, Paul, and Mary, but it was a neat song too.

Cake and homemade ice cream were a real treat. We sang "Happy Birthday" like we meant it and I suppose we did. She was our little sis and she was a princess. She beamed like this was the best birthday ever. We also went up to see Grandpa Briggs and Aunt Phoebe up the street and shared the birthday cake with them. Then the grownups sat down in the living room to talk. We stayed nearby and listened to the radio while catching little bits of grownup talk.

I remember some talk of the latest news and that some guy had climbed on top of a tower in Texas and started shooting people. That was crazy and my parents wondered what the world was coming to. After a little bit, the talk got a bit of a different tone and I really cued in when Mom said, "Well, I got my results from Dr. Diumenti today and I've got to tell you."

For the next three minutes, she unloaded the diagnosis and it wasn't a pregnancy. The diagnosis was something called "cervical cancer" and it had been very hard to detect because it really wasn't felt until it became pretty deeply entrenched. The medical professionals would probably like Mom to go to LDS hospital in Salt Lake and get a biopsy (whatever that was) and then decide what to do from that point.

It didn't sound good. I hadn't heard this "cancer" word before, but it sounded really ominous when they said it. Maybe that was what Grandma Briggs had died of shortly after I was born. One thing for sure, the mood of everyone got really solemn, like we were in church and some boring old guy was talking. I could tell something was really dreadful and it reminded me of a feeling I had a couple of weeks ago in my bedroom when that gorilla had come calling.

I was determined to look this up in the encyclopedia when I got home, but right when we arrived home, Dad called us all into the living room and sat us down. This couldn't be good. This only happened prior to punishment and a serious talk from Dad was not a good thing. He began his little chat:

"Kids, we are facing a bit of a hard time coming. Mom has just been diagnosed with cancer and that's not something to fool around with, but we can get through this. Now cancer is a bad bug that's got rooted down there in the mommy area and it has been really hard to tell what was wrong because up until recently, it hasn't been painful. Now Mom can start to feel it. We can do some things to try to kill it, but that's pretty hard on the body and so Mom will be really weak."

Mom added a few comments too: "This is just another challenge for us. We came through just fine when all those doctors told me that I wouldn't have children and now I have you five wonderful kids. They will probably first want to take out my mommy parts in surgery and that's called a hysterectomy. They might operate on other things to try to get all of this disease out of me. We can do this thing and then we'll get back on top of things. Daddy, do you want to tell the kids what we have planned for starting next year?"

Dad replied, "Well, we have just purchased a lot up the street. I bought the east lot and my buddy at the building department bought the west lot. We're going to build a house and move up there into a brand-new house. It's going to be amazing and you will have your own rooms. You get to help me build it and this house will be very cool."

Finally some good news in all of this. Building a house sounds like fun. Getting my own room is especially impressive. But this cancer thing was still a bit of a concern especially because of that feeling that I had. Was the gorilla stalking me again? I knew that I had to check it out.

Our encyclopedia had a lot of information. Cancer was a bad thing and it was a leading cause of death. The cure rate wasn't impressive and this thing called the "mortality rate" meant that it killed many more than got away from it. Surgery was the first mode of attack and in cutting out all the bad stuff, they hoped that it wouldn't go anywhere else. Then there was this procedure called chemotherapy where they put some medicine in a person that kills off practically every cell whether good or bad cells and then the person had to recover from that.

That night I shared my knowledge with my brothers and that this cancer thing was a killer. The problem was that you might kill it, but then again it might have snuck into another area and comes alive all over again. If it got into some really vital organ, then it was all over. Mom had proven the doctors wrong before and here were her miracle children to beat all the odds and medical statistics. Mom had five children. The odds were huge against that, but she was promised to have children and she did. We said our prayers and went to sleep that evening fairly confident that this would be over soon and we would have a new house on top of it all.

I found out later that Mom and Dad talked late into the night. Alone with their thoughts, they faced the reality that this was serious. People didn't usually make it through cancer. Why did this happen? Mom wondered what she had done wrong to deserve this judgment. How could she continue to be a mother and attend to her Sweet Adelines' duties. This Sweet Adelines group was a prominent choral group of women in Bountiful and she loved her participation. She felt that this was all over and that this was somehow a price that she had to pay.

Dad reassured her that it was going to be all right. He reminded her that we had this house to look forward to and they spent some time discussing the plans and what they wanted in their new house. There were some new styles that were gaining popularity and some new gadgets that could be built into kitchen cabinets. They could design their own master suite and some fantastic innovations in closets. Dad, to his credit, tried to refocus on the positive, but we all knew Mom and what remained in the back of her mind wasn't easily persuaded to leave.

CHAPTER 3

September 1, 1967

Bountiful, Utah

What an eventful summer it has been! This is actually my last free day before school starts in four days and I've got big things planned with friends for our last break before school on Monday. I actually start sixth grade and I'm in the same class as my best friend, Jeff Goodrich. It's going to be the best year. We're probably going to be moving into the new house and I'll have my own room. Life couldn't get much better now that the hard part of building a house was over and we were set for school to start.

On that deal with Mom, that was still an up and down thing. Seems like it was mostly down. They don't talk much about it, but I can tell that Mom is losing heart. She doesn't smile much, she doesn't sew much. She had to quit her singing group and she seems pretty weak most of the time. They got her this walker device after she came back from her latest stay in the hospital. She can't seem to get around much anymore and although she puts on the happy face when we're around, we know enough about Mom to know that she's faking it.

It's been just over a year since we got the news. Several operations later and more doctor visits than I care to count. Quiet talks with grownups so that we don't know anything. My aunts spend more time visiting and Mom spends more time in bed. I thought we were supposed to be looking forward to moving into the new house and that life would be rosy again like before. Mom could come out and yell at us for peach fights or tomato wars. I could be grounded on a kitchen chair for hours if I could have that life back again.

But hold that thought. I'm going to be a cool sixth grader! Most groovy! I'm a popular kid in my grade and I have good friends. I don't much like girls, but if I was pressed, I might admit an infatuation with Janet. Boy stuff is cool and riding bikes is the best! Playing football and kick the can at the neighborhood level is radical fun and I'm good not getting mushy with girls because they have fleas and everyone knows that. (Well maybe Janet is the exception.) Today I'm going riding with my friends up in the mountains above the school. Life is grand!

I am just getting my bike ready to go meet up with my friends and head out on this adventure when Ellen comes out to the driveway and tells me that Mom wants to see me. She knows that I have plans and this is really inconvenient, but the least I could do is to go and tell her good bye and that I'll be back later this afternoon. She knows that I've been looking forward to this and she wants me to have this break before school starts.

I head back to her bedroom. My parents have a neat bedroom that my dad added onto the back of the house two years ago. She has been down in bed for a number of days now. She says she is too weak to get up and use her walker. I sort of wonder if that medicine that she takes is causing this weakness or if it's the cancer still. They took practically all of her female stuff away in surgeries and she's thin as a rail and fairly pale. She's still my mom and has that twinkle in her blue eyes when she sees me.

She signals me over to the bed and I approach with a little trepidation and a little hurry to get this visit over with and on my way to the fun stuff. This stuff here is really a drag. (Geez! Now I'm starting to talk like a Hippie!)

"Hi Mom. How ya doing?"

"Hi Son. You know I've always called you Blackie. You'll always be my little Blackie."

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Christmas Angels Whisper"
by .
Copyright © 2018 David L. Asay.
Excerpted by permission of Thomas Nelson.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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