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A Christmas Tale
By Albert Williams
A huge star hung in the cold evening sky. A sacred
stillness seemed to cling to everything, like some unseen
web. She looked through the window and saw the Holy
Family. The Christ Child lay asleep in a manger, while
Mary his mother looked on. Joseph stood there beaming
like an actor, his hands clasped in prayer. The three wise
men were still there talking among themselves, and
every now and then they would look at the Holy Child
and nod their heads in agreement; cattle lowed softly in
the shadows.
By now a number of other people had gathered round
the shed and just as she was about to enter she heard the
sound of bells ringing lightly. She peered into the
darkness and saw a strange-looking man on a sledge
drawn by a multitude of deer, one she noticed had a very,
very red nose. As the ensemble grew closer she noticed
that the man had on a funny looking red suit with white
furry trimmings that matched his flowing white beard
that jangled up and down as he merrily urged his team of
jolly reindeers on. And as she looked pulling behind him
one huge tree, so tall that when he finally reached the
stable, shepherds forbade him for fear that he would
disturb the sleeping king.
Thereupon the gentle man alighted from his sleigh
and immediately started for the circle of onlookers where
the Magi, the Holy Family, the shepherds and others
gazed in pure delight at the sight of the Saviour lying in
a crib. He made his way in delicate steps and announced
that his name was Nicholas and that he was from
somewhere called Asia Minor, wherever that is, and that
he was the patron saint of children rewarding the good
ones, while punishing the bad ones. He said, “I too have
heard about the birth of the Christ-Child, the Saviour of
the world, and I have come to worship him.” He
genuflected before the spectacle, fully divine, fully
human with an awesome reverence.
He arose and continued, “I have brought some gifts
for the holy child, a poem.” He pushed his hands into his
pocket and drew forth a card on which was written a
poem, and then as if by magic he produced a cardboard
box in which he said was a seamlessly woven gown from
the finest hemp that he would wear only when he would
reach the age of thirty when his mission to save the world
would begin. He displayed the long flowing gown one
that I’d never seen.
“And this tree shall henceforth be called the Christmas
Tree which shall be for an ensign among all peoples of the
world through whom every man, woman and child will
be blessed.”
“And this tree,” he continued in his deep booming
voice that sounded like the rumblings of distant thunder,
“shall symbolize that he shall be like the Tree of Life
planted by the rivers of water that bringest forth fruit in
due season.”
The man laughed and laughed then took a deep bow
before the babe sleeping in the manger on a heap of dried,
banana leaves, unaware of the adoration being showered
upon him. The messenger then said a few words to
Joseph who turned as white as a sheet and almost as
suddenly as he arrived, Nicholas disappeared into the
night whistling a melody that was quite infectious as his
reindeers galloped away in a delicate kind-of-a-way with
little, silver bells strung along the side of the contraption
ringing softly, softly until all that could be heard was the
murmuring of the on-lookers and the howl of the cold,
cold wind.
THE END |
