The Woodcutter’s Toys by Gail Cartee

Every year, the woodcutter carved toys for the children of the mountain to be given out at the Christmas tree lighting. He delighted in the joy he saw in the children’s eyes, but year after year he watched the sadness in his wife’s eyes. They had no child of their own with whom to share the intricately carved oxen and carts, sheep and horses, goats and cows. He loved that the children always seemed surprised and pleased with his special gifts, but the sadness of a childless home always came to him at the close of the evening.

This year as he rummaged through old newspapers to wrap his carvings, he noticed an ad for adoptive parents. Perhaps, she would be willing to take a child who needed them as much as they needed the child. He had never asked her about someone else’s child. They had only thought of having their own. He smoothed the crumpled paper and stuffed it in the pocket of his overalls, meaning to show it to his wife at supper.

“Honey, I know we always wanted our own child, but I found this ad today and I wondered what you thought.” He gently unfolded the paper and showed his wife the ad with the sad face of a small child.

“He does look like he could use a good meal and some love,” she replied.

He had not read farther than the headline and picture. Now he read aloud to the both of them. “International adoptions. Your child could be waiting for you in Russia, China or Guatemala. Contact….” and then the number. “I wonder how much it would cost to get that young’un flown here?” he said.

“Probably more than we got. We wouldn’t qualify. We don’t have money to pay for an adoption. What are we thinking?” she replied.

That night as they said their prayers by the fire, they asked God about adopting, still wondering who they were kidding.

When he left to cut wood early the next morning; she pulled the paper from her apron pocket where she had hid it last night after prayers. She said a silent prayer as she dialed the number. “International adoptions,” the lady on the other end answered.

She hadn’t really thought about what to say. “Uh, I wanted to know about adopting a child,” she stammered.

The lady on the other end began to explain the procedures, the travel and the cost. The more the lady talked the more the wife knew this would not be possible for them. She thanked the lady and tossed the ad on the table. He would be in for dinner shortly.

“Hey, Honey. How was your morning? Something smells good.” That was his usual dinner-time greeting. His eyes fell on the ad. He covered it with his hand and slid it back into his overall pocket. He would call this afternoon for the details and share them this evening.

He called from his cell phone in the truck. The lady on the other end seemed delighted to give him all the information, but he knew this was not for them. It would involve paying for passports and travel several times to choose a child and work out details to bring her home. It wasn’t as simple as choosing a child in need and then bringing her to their loving home. This costs money, big money. He didn’t want to disappoint his wife, but where, how, could he come up with such a sum?

That night around the hearth, they opened the Christmas story and began to read. There, the angel Gabriel told Mary, “With God nothing shall be impossible.” Together they prayed, “Lord, show us how to believe and do those things that will make our child possible.”

He took up a scrap of kindling from the hearth and began to carve. There were  lots of toys to be made before Christmas for the mountain children. As his eyelids began to droop, he slipped the little lamb into his overall’s pocket.

The next morning, he stopped at the little store for a cup of coffee. The children, already out for Christmas break, were gathered on the porch with their wooden animals and other figurines, playing at reenacting the Nativity story. He stopped to watch. They had brought their plastic people figurines to make the story work. He had never tried to carve people before, but he wanted to try, for the kids.

That night he tried to carve a kneeling Mary. He wasn’t sure he got the proportions right. He tried a manger. That wasn’t bad, but what about a baby? Every night he tried a new figure. Some were successful, some not so much. Each time the people improved. By Saturday, he was ready to try a camel.

Monday, he was ready to offer the new figurines to the children. It was cold and snowy. The children hadn’t come to the store. They were out on the hillside with makeshift sleds.  He set the new figurines up ready to play on the porch near the checkerboard. A stranger ambled up the steps, noticing the nativity set. The stranger was only there to grab a snack, but he couldn’t resist picking up a figurine, running his fingers over the smooth, yet primitive pieces. “You sell these sets?” he asked.

“No, these are for the children,” the woodcutter replied.

“Would you be willing to make sets to sell?” the stranger pursued the conversation.

“Hadn’t thought about it. Takes a while to make ‘um.”

“Can you make a set in a week? I can make it worth your while.”

“How many sets you need?”

“I’ll take all you can make by next November,” the stranger said as he handed him a phone number. “I’ll be by once a month and take all you have finished.”

He thought about all he could buy with that much extra money, a new truck, new appliances for her….

Then it occurred to him. All things are possible. He shook the man’s hand to seal the deal and made a dash for the truck. Their child was on the way.