Inspire, Fall/Winter 2009

Since graduating with a degree in communication arts, Donna (Payne) VanLiere ’89 has touched the hearts of millions with her exemplary writing and speaking skills. She is the recipient of a Retailers Choice Award for Fiction, a Dove Award, and a Silver Angel Award. A New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, Donna has published seven books, three of which were adapted into television movies. The Christmas Shoes , starring Rob Lowe and Kimberly Williams, first aired in December 2002. The Christmas Hope premieres December 13 on Lifetime and stars award-winning actress Madeleine Stowe. Donna’s memoir, titled Finding Grace , was released this fall and has garnered widespread acclaim. Her newest novel, The Christmas Secret , was released in November 2009. Donna and her husband, Troy ’89, live in Franklin, Tennessee, with their three children, Gracie, Kate, and David. To learn more about Donna and to purchase her books, visit her website at www.donnavanliere.com . My eyes bulged. “How’d they smell that small sack of candy from way far away?” “Oxen have big nostrils,” she said. “The peasant harnessed the oxen together with the fallen branch and vines, and in moments the boulder was moved away. To his astonishment the peasant discovered a small red, velvet bag filled with gold coins and a note inside it.” I lay on the couch and threw a pillow high into the air and caught it. “What’d it say?” She sat on the other end of the couch and put my feet in her lap. “It said, ‘Thank you for removing this boulder. Please keep this gold as a token of my appreciation. Signed, The King.’ And the peasant learned what all of us learn at one time or another.” “What’s that?” I asked, looking at her. “Every rock in the road can improve our lives, but we might have to get a little muddy before it does.” And that’s how she answered my question of if she ever wished my father lived with us. There was nothing fancy about my mother or our Christmases together. With the exception of the tree, Grandma’s nativity, and the plastic Santa, we didn’t have any other decorations, and since there were only two of us, Mom would usually bake a chicken for our meal that day with a few roasted potatoes and beans. In the days leading up to Christmas, my mother would sit me down and we’d compose two letters: one to Santa that was filled with everything I could find in the J.C. Penney catalog and the other to God, thanking Him for everything we could think of. As I grew older, the letters dwindled to one, and we left it under the tree. “To remember,” Mom would say. By some accounts, I guess our day was pretty plain, but it felt magical to me. On those magical Christmas days with my mother, I couldn’t imagine any rocks in my road. I never dreamed of stumbling along without an end in sight, but when I grew up that’s how I ended up living — day-to-day, survival of the fittest. I guess we’re all like that in some ways. We don’t dare look behind us but we’re not brave enough to look ahead. We’re just stuck. Right here. Waiting. I’m always waiting it seems — waiting for the right time, the right job, for the light to turn green, waiting on a call, in line, for a repair man, waiting for my past to catch up with me and for my future to begin. I got to the point in my life where I was so tired of waiting and wanted to know that my life was not just leading anywhere but somewhere . I wanted that childhood sense of wonderment back. The crazy how, when, and why of life finally caught up with me, and I realized that there was no Oz, fairy-tale king, or Scrooge-waking-up-from-a-dream moment that was going to whisk me away from reality, and that’s when I wanted Christmas again. The Christmas of the simple tree and polishing the nativity with my shirtsleeve and holding my mother’s hand in church. I wanted to know that there was a reason and purpose not only behind the boulder in the road but buried beneath it so that when I unearthed it I could brush off that muddy gem and say, “So this is it!” In the moment, it seemed like the wait would never end, but looking back it all passed like a misty dream. I never moved the boulder, by the way; I couldn’t. Several people helped me. Then I discovered the gift beneath it. “I wanted Christmas again. The Christmas of the simple tree and polishing the nativity with my shirtsleeve and holding my mother’s hand in church.” CEDARVILLE UNIVERSITY 23 i