by

Rebecca Somoskey

"Where can he be!" Ricara muttered. Her eyes searched the sanctuary. It was almost time for her solo and her dad still wasn’t there. "He’s still at the hospital with mom!" she fretted. It couldn’t be helped that the baby came two weeks early. Babies didn’t wait. But her Dad had promised. "No matter what happens, I’ll be there."

As the choir sang the last note of "O Holy Night", Pastor King nodded to Ricara. Too hurt to be afraid, Ricara strode to the microphone. At her cue the beautiful words poured from her throat, "What child is this who laid to rest on Mary’s lap is sleeping?" When the last note faded applause thundered across the sanctuary. Her heart soared, then broke. If only her parents could have heard her first solo.

Later, at home, she struggled out of her dress, pulled on her pajamas and stretched out to watch television. Then she heard a car door slam.

Her dad yelled through the front door, "Ricara, I have a surprise for you!"

She hurried to the living room ready to demand where he had been. But the words froze on her tongue. Her dad was helping her mom and the baby get comfortable on the sofa.

"The doctor said Mom and the baby were doing so well he could let them come home tonight," her dad exclaimed. "So, here they are!"

"Come see your brother, Royce Kent Maxwell," Ricara’s mom pulled the blue blankets away to reveal a tiny pink face with a few wisps of brown hair scattered across the top of his head. "Isn’t he beautiful, Ricara?" she asked.

Ricara caught her breath. He was so tiny. With one finger she caressed his soft cheeks and button nose. She was hoping someone would say something about the concert. But her parents continued to gaze at the baby.

Finally she took a deep breath. "Pastor King said I did fantastic on my solo," she said.

"Oh, Ricara, I am so sorry we had to miss it..." her mom began, then stopped. Baby Royce had started to squirm. "Oh, look," she cooed. "Look at him stretch! Isn’t he something?" She unwrapped him completely so everyone could see.

Her concert was forgotten.

Ricara sighed, then stood up. "It’s been a long day, Mom and I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed."

"Sure honey," her mom said, but never took her eyes off little Royce. And her dad seemed oblivious to everything else.

Hardly a word about my concert, Ricara fretted as she closed her bedroom door. Then guilt stabbed at her heart. Babies were special and it should be a happy time, not a time to pout. But they could have let me talk about it. She tumbled into bed too hurt to even cry.

Ricara mentioned the concert several times over the next three days, but baby Royce was fussy with the colic, and when her mom wasn’t rocking him she was trying to get a nap. There was never any time to talk like they used to do.

By Christmas Eve night Ricara had decided life would never be the same. Somehow she had become disconnected from her family and she didn’t know how to reconnect. After she finished cleaning the kitchen she trudged to her room and picked up her Bible. Her dad had hurried to the pharmacy before Christmas Eve closing time to pick up a prescription for baby Royce’s colic, and her mom was taking a bath while the baby slept. It seemed as if she would be spending this Christmas Eve alone.

She turned to the book of Luke. She would miss the hot chocolate, the shared prayer and the flurry of wrapping paper, ribbons and laughter as they opened their gifts. But she could still read the Christmas story. She read the first two chapters of Luke, then turned to Matthew. "Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us. Her dad had explained that Jesus was like a bridge. He came to reconnect us to the Father.

"Ricara," her mom called. "Can you rock the baby while I finish my bath?" Baby Royce was crying again. She lifted him out of the bassinet, cradled him in her left arm and eased into the rocker. Soon he stopped crying and began to hiccough. She studied his face. He looks like me! A warm feeling washed over her. He’s part of me too. Not just Mom and Dad! Softly she hummed the words of her solo. "What child is this who laid to rest on Mary’s lap is sleeping." She pushed against his palm with her finger and he opened his fist and grasped it. His hiccoughs stopped and he slept.

"How is he?" her mother hurried in.

"Sh-h-h," Ricara whispered.

Her mom slipped her finger into his other fist and he squirmed a little, then grasped it. Ricara looked up at her mother and they shared a smile.

"Hello, I’m home!" her dad called. "Ricara, I have a surprise for you." He came bustling into the bedroom. " I stopped by Pastor King’s and picked up the video. Now we can see your concert together."

Baby Royce was still clinging to their fingers. How incredible! she thought. Royce is the bridge that has reconnected me to my family. Just like Jesus!