Boyd K. Packer - A Christmas Parable

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The Author

Second Edition

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10 0-88494-901-X

ISBN-13 978-0-88494-901-5

Second Edition

First Printing, 1993

Printed in the United States of America

A parable is a brief, simple story told to illustrate or teach a moral or spiritual truth. This is a Christmas parable.

He was a natural-born family man. He had wanted to get married, and he found the perfect girl who had wanted to be a farmers wife. They wanted children. And they made the most of family life, and of Christmas.

This winter day he worked in the shed trying to salvage parts from a broken mower. He thought of Christmas and he was worried. Christmas bothered him. And it bothered him that Christmas bothered him. Christmas was home and family and fireplaces and happy times with presents and good meals and memories of better times. Christmas symbolized things that mattered most to him.

This had not been a good year; the crops had been poor, and there was the accident.

If only he had not been in a cast for those weeks! His boys had done the best they could, but they were only boys.

The mower had broken down. He could not afford the new parts, so he had wired it together. Because of that, it was damaged beyond repair. Had it not been for the kindness of a neighbor who loaned him a mower, his hay would not have been harvested at all. By that time the hay was way past prime and did not bring a good price.

There had been hard times on the farm before, but not three years in a row. The previous night he had gone over the books with his wife. Another year like this and they would lose the farm.

Perhaps they could make presents for the little ones. The older ones in school would not expect more than the clothes they should have had to begin the school year. But he didnt know how he and his wife could do even that much.

It bothered him greatly. For the first time in his life he wished Christmas would not come. Why could they not hurry on to January, and then spring would come and bring hope of a better season.

At that moment his wife called, Come wash up for supper!

After supper the two of them talked until a late hour. They talked about Christmas. They also talked of the reunion scheduled for later that month.

This reunion was very important to both of them. Weeks earlier she had casually asked him which dress she should wear. He understood, and he insisted, even commanded, that she get a new one, even if he had to sell the best milk cow to do it. It would be her Christmas present. Whatever else happened, he was determined that she would be dressed as well as the others.

She finally bowed to his insistence and bought a modestly priced dress.

She had looked so lovely when she modeled it for him that memories of honeymoon days had captivated them both.

Now, as they talked things over this evening, each tried to encourage the other. But both were worried. For the first time they were losing hope.

He slept fitfully at first. Finally bone-tired weariness, which is the best of all sedatives, took effect. He dropped into a deep sleep. Presently he began to dream.

His dream was a reenactment of the evening before. He found himself back in the shed stripping parts from the broken mower. His wife called, Come wash up for supper! just as she had before. He went toward the house just as he had done before.

In this dream, he went to the sink in the back hallway to wash up, just as he always did. And then it happened! For some reason, the dirt would not come off.

At first he thought the water was too cold, or it was a poor soap. He briskly rubbed the soap into suds, but the dirt did not come off. He reached for a cloth and scrubbed his hands. The stains did not yield. What was the matter with him?

He held his hands up and looked closely. He noticed around his fingernails little specks of red paint, just the color of the barn. But it was twelve years since he had painted the barn. All traces of the paint had been washed from his hands years ago. In fact, the barn needed painting again.

He noticed other stains and recognized some of them. There were faint odors of chemicals and animal smells and grease from the farm machinery. As he looked at his hands each stain in turn seemed to emerge from the others. His memory was quickened and he remembered when each had been put thereand he remembered washing each one away.

He had never been afraid to dirty his hands with honest work, for that is the lot of the farmer; but he had a certain pride in being well groomed. From the days of his courtship he had been meticulously clean and had always kept his hair neatly trimmed. He was fussy about having clothes that fit properly. His wife admired that and quite willingly kept them cleaned and pressed.

But why were those stains on his hands; layer upon layer of them? Why would they not wash away? Some were barely visible, but they were thereall of them.

He splashed about, fighting to get the stains off. He dipped his arms into the sink to the elbow, sleeves and all. To his surprise, the dirt drained from the sleeves and they were clean, but not his hands! He rolled up the wet sleeves and looked at his arms. They were the same as his hands, stained with every spot that was ever put there.

It was then that he turned to the mirror and slumped over in despair. It was as though he had not washed in years.

Into his mind came thoughts of the reunion, the homecoming, and he grew sick. He could not even go to supper, much less attend the reunion, covered with a lifetime of dirt.

Then, as can happen in a dream, he was caught in a swirl of humiliation and futility. He was pulled apart by opposing forces of misery and fear.

For the first time in his life he experienced absolute despair!

All at once, abruptly, he awakened. Thank God it was a dream! Only a dream! He felt his face. It was clean. He rubbed his hands; they were rough and chapped, but they were clean. He lay awake brooding for what seemed like hours, till eventually that sedative, exhaustion, took effect again and he slept.

Morning came, and he arose as usual when the rooster crowed. (Actually it was the light in the kitchen window that stirred the rooster to his first call of the morning.) He roused the boys and they went to do the chores in the usual way.

As is often the case when dreams have great meaning, this dream was not on his mind when first he awakened.

He had not forgotten it; it just was not present in his mind. Dreams of this kind come back and are relived during the day.