With the Faith of A Christmas Child - November 25, 2010 Gin-Nie Tanner Smith, Copy Right, 2010 © On an unusually cold, snowy, miserable day in December, a young child of perhaps six years of age sat all alone on the steps of a tenement building in a dangerous and unforgiving part of a large city in a southern state of the United States. Tears stained the innocent face; those tears mixed with the dirt of weeks without a bath and years without being loved. It was the Christmas season. This caused the foundling child to ponder how his life would change should his father choose, whomever he was and wherever he was, to claim both he and his ever-absent mother. His only images of family were of seemingly happy families, arms loaded with gaily wrapped gifts, while rushing about on the crowded streets. Or those times he peered into the windows of warm, cozy and festively decorated homes; and those images of family life portrayed on the televisions in lavishly decorated store windows. Once, he managed to slip into the warmth of a department store and noticed happy children queue-up to sit upon Santa’s lap. Everyone knows of Santa, but he had never received a gift from him, he figured Santa was only for those who didn’t dwell in dark alleys like he. He quietly hid behind a large wooden solider and was close enough to hear the long lists of several children. As tears formed in his longing eyes, but before his thoughts could form, a security guard grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him out the back door into the alley behind the store, slammed the steel door and loudly latched the lock. As he found his way from the shadows of the dank alley, he heard Christmas carolers singing of Christmas cheer. They were resplendent in warm coats, their breath swirling about their heads in icy, lacey clouds. He longingly searched their eyes for some welcome or recognition of his presence, with no response, other than disgust at his raggedy presentation. His daily routine found him wandering in search of a castoff piece of fruit or scrap of bread in trash bins of dank alleyways behind restaurants full of well-fed patrons to be shooed away by angry staff. Occasionally, to his joy, he’d find half-eaten, unknown meat. On this particular day, he wondered upon the stoop of a large church as the frigid wind whipped about his frozen face. Cautiously, he walked up the steps to the entrance of the church and quietly entered its portal searching for warmth for his little body and perhaps, hope. Hiding between the pews he invisibly slipped past those praying on their knees; where upon settling in the darkest corner, the urchin had a thought to do the same. As he reverently bowed his head covered in a torn stocking cap, he clasped together his dirty little hands. With tears of humility tumbling from his troubled eyes he prayed. “Dear God, folks say you love everyone and answer prayer. It’s near Christmas day and God, I have a Christmas prayer.” Suddenly, a warm mysterious light began to wrap around the child, who so focused on his words, continued to audibly and most earnestly pray. “God, I don’t know where my mother is or who my father is. So, if you would be my father, I would give you the only thing I have to give for Christmas. That’s my heart God. Would you take it? Would you?” The child was unaware the people in the church became enraptured of him and the profound words he innocently uttered in prayer, as well as the miracle appearing before them. Each person was so amazed that they were suspended in the space and time of this moment. Oblivious to his awestruck audience, the child felt a gentle touch on his filthy stooped shoulder as a voice spoke clear and gentle in his ear. Tenderly came the words, “My child, I am indeed your father and yes, I will take the gift of your heart and keep it in my care; for that is the greatest gift anyone could give me. I would ask no more of the richest king.” With those words from the Father, the light around the child rose to such brightness that it nearly blinded those watching this miracle take place. Within that same moment the child inexplicably became as clean as fresh fallen snow. All were astonished with his presentation as he arose from his reverence and the light softened to a luminous candle glow. A man witnessing this miracle found his feet while tears streamed from weary yet hopeful eyes. He slowly approached the child’s side, then kneeled down face-to-face with him. He spoke tenderly with raw emotion, “child of grace, please, come with me.” “You see, my own small son died last Christmas day, he was near your age and manner and I have been praying for another son to fill my empty heart.” As his arms opened to the child, who could hardly contain his happiness, they embraced one another. No one there had a dry eye, or was without a humble smile. As the newly formed family emerged from the depths of the cathedral hand-in-hand, the faithful quietly followed them through the threshold of the church into the light of day. To add to the miracle, the gray, dank sky had cleared, yet large snowflakes fluttered about. Suddenly a covey of snow-white doves waltzed above, with no one to notice as their focus was on the newly formed family. If one listened carefully, you could hear the distant music of angel choirs as the bells in the massive church tower inexplicably began to chime in joyous song. The very breath of God quelled the chill from the air as he smiled from heaven and spoke with his mighty arms outstretched, “Come to me with the faith of a child, all my children, to find your true family.”
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 00:00:24 +0000
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