AND WE WERE AFRAID
Writer and naturalist Anne Dillard tells of a cold Christmas Eve when she, then a young girl, and her family had come home from a late dinner out. Ginger ale and a plate of cookies sat on a special table. Dillard had taken off her winter coat and was warming herself on the heat register. Suddenly the front door opened and a person entered whom Dillard never wanted to meet – Santa Claus! The family called to her, “Look who’s here! Look who’s here!” Little Annie ran upstairs. She explains that she feared Santa Claus as “an old man whom you never saw, but who nevertheless saw you. He knew when you’d been bad or good! And I had been bad.” Santa stood in the doorway, ringing the bell and shouting, “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” Annie never came down.
Dillard found out later that this Santa was really a “rigged-up” Miss White, the old lady who lived across the street. Miss White constantly reached out to young Annie, giving her cookies, teaching her finger painting, and generally instructing her about the things of the world. Annie like Miss White; but one day, six months after the Santa incident, she ran again. The lesson of the day involved a magnifying glass. The older lady focused a pinpoint of sunlight on Dillard’s palm to let her feel the heat. The little girl was burned by accident. She ripped her hand away and dashed home crying. Miss White called after her, trying to explain, but to no avail.
Reflecting on how these experiences paralleled her relationship with God Dillard writes:
“Even now I wonder: if I meet God, will he take and hold my bare hand in his, and focus his eye on my palm,
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