A Gift of Love
Once upon a
time, in a huge forest, by a city, lived a raccoon. He looked just like all the other raccoons
with his bandit-like mask and ringed tail.
And he was very curious, just like all the other raccoons. His name was Alexander.
Christmas
was a happy time for all the other animals in the forest, especially for
Alexander, because it gave him a chance to go home and spend time with his
mother and father, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. They would celebrate and feast and tell
stories for many hours.
“This
Christmas is going to be special,” thought Alexander. “It will be the first time I will be home
since I began my life away from the den.
I can’t wait to see everyone again!”
These
thoughts made him hasten his preparations.
He knew it would take him about two days to travel home, so, the sooner
he got started, the better. After all,
Christmas was but three days away!
Even with
the few inches of light powdery snow, the path was easy to follow and
traveling was not difficult. All around
him, Alexander noticed animal families gathering and sounds of celebrating
reached his ears. High about him, he
heard excited chatterings. “Hey,
Alexander!” came a voice from above.
“Would you like to join us? We
have plenty of food!”
“Thanks for
the offer, but I’m going home for
Christmas!” replied Alexander. “Merry
Christmas!”
“Merry
Christmas!” called the voice.
Alexander
continued on his way.
A while
later, he heard his name again.
“Alexander!” He realized it was his rabbit friend who was celebrating
with his rather large family.
“Alexander,
have you a place to spend Christmas?” his friend asked.
“Oh yes!
I’m going home!” Alexander said
excitedly.
“Ok. We just thought that if you had no place to
go, you are welcome to celebrate with us.
But you are right; with your family is the best place to be for
Christmas. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry
Christmas!” called Alexander.
The sun was casting its last rays over the forest and Alexander was reminiscing. “Last Christmas was so wonderful. I hope this year will be as good,” Alexander thought. He remembered the games he played with his cousins, raiding the garbage cans at the edge of the nearby city and making pretty patterns in the fresh snow in the clearing near their den. And he remembered the long talks and family tales his old uncles swapped in their cozy homes.
And
particularly, he remembered the very special visit his family received from
Nicholas who was the Father of the
But most of
all, he remembered the feelings of tenderness and warmth, of having a place and
knowing he was important. And Christmas
was a time for renewing those bonds of oneness, a time for sharing the peace
and love for being, a celebration of life.
No! It
could not be! Alexander let out a cry of pain, wheeled around, and ran blindly
back into the forest. The safe, dark,
lonely forest.
Why did
they have to destroy his home? What about his beloved family? Where were they? Were they still
alive? Would he ever see them again?
Eventually,
he stopped running – partially because he was a little out of breath, but more
because he realized he was lost and the agony inside him was becoming
unbearable. Finally, all the anguish,
misery, and loneliness surfaced and broke.
With a wail that shook his center of existence, he collapsed into a sobbing
ball of fur.
For how
long he cried, no one knew. To
Alexander, it seemed like an eternity.
Suddenly, he realized it had begun to snow. Big, lazy snowflakes, diamond-tipped and
sparkling like multi-faceted crystals.
How he loved snowflakes like these!
Through his tear-soaked eyes, he slowly saw the forest around him had
taken on an unearthly glitter, each flake reflecting the light of the
other. And in spite of his pain, he couldn't help but acknowledge its splendour.
Slowly, he
because conscious of a glow – not the glitter from the snow crystals but a warm
glow coming from further in the forest.
Though Alexander was very distraught over his situation, he still was a
racoon. And before long, he had his
tears under control and shakily stepped onto the unbroken surface in the
direction of the glow.
“What could
this be?” he wondered. “It shines as if
it has no source, but almost as if each particle of air is lit by an unseen
flame.”
With a
final sniff, he reached the edge of the clearing. The sight that lay in front of him caused him
to gasp in stunned silence. In complete
awe, he gazed at the hazy scene before him.
In the center of the clearing, surrounded by a spotless and unmarked blanket
of white snow, stood a crumbling hovel, covered with a layer of straw, which
framed the tableau within. A man,
exhausted and haggard knelt on one side; a woman, tired and worn, as only
childbirth can give, held a bundle of cloths.
Though both were extremely weary, their faces held such looks of reverence
and peace and love, that Alexander could hardly pull his eyes away. But he had to, for it was not the man and
woman that were the focus of this scene, but the rags. His eyes rested on the heap of cloths in the
woman’s arms. Suddenly, Alexander knew.
It was
impossible, yet there could be no other explanation. The scene was real, yet not. Alexander knew that he could not touch the
shack or the straw, but it was definitely real.
Real, as a dream, a miracle. A vision from centuries long past.
The woman
moved her arm, and in doing so, she made it possible for Alexander to see the
face of the tiny thing nestled in the rags.
And he opened his eyes and looked straight into the eyes of Alexander.
Though it
was only an image, what passed between the pain-filled animal and the tiny
child was as real as the gently falling snow around them.
“This is love – real love,” thought Alexander. Here was another who also knew what being lonely meant, to be forsaken and deserted, without someone to lean upon. And Alexander was flooded with such a feeling of warmth that started somewhere in the center of his small body, pushing aside the pain and overcoming his whole being. And he blinked.
In the wink of an eye, the scene vanished. All that lay in front of him were the snow-ladened evergreens and the still-falling snowflakes.
“Alexander,”
a soft voice whispered to him.
Turning his
head, Alexander saw a figure perched on a decaying stump nearby. It was Nicholas.
“I know
what you have experienced. I know about
the houses and the loss of your home. I
know about your pain. And I know of the
vision you have just witnessed.
Alexander, do not fear. Though your
home is gone, your family lives, and you shall be reunited. For all the animals of the forest are your
family, so do not ever feel lonely.
“Come,”
said the wise old owl. “A new life
awaits you. Be strong and remember the
child in the rags, the ultimate gift of love.”
Turning from the clearing, Alexander smiled. “All the animals in the forest are my family,” he thought with a smile beginning to peak through. And he waddled off in a new direction, the direction of family and friends.
And high above, in the inky black sky, a lone star twinkled.
And as Alexander headed into a new life, silent as a shadow, beside him flew Nicholas, the wise old owl.
Without a sound, he stayed close to the young traveler.
All through
the next day.
Until the
night.
And then,
like he came, he left.
And high above, the angels sang, “Peace on earth, goodwill to all. Love has come on and lives on.”
Peace.
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