Day 11 of 12

scripture: Matthew 24

Miracle of the Christmas Tree
Pearl B. Mason

I was teaching fourth grade in my hometown in Wyoming.  It was the day before our Christmas program was to be given.  School routine was forgotten as we sang carols and rehearsed plays under the magic spell of the lighted Christmas tree.  Names had been drawn and apparently all the pupils had brought their gifts.

In this class was a girl who was different from the rest of the pupils because of her almost indescribably unkept, frowsy appearance.  She came from a family of nine healthy, robust, aggressive children.  There was none of this in Louise.  I never think of her but I picture a frail child standing before me in a long, loose dress, pinned at the neck with a big safety pin, and a sash wound around her waist to try to keep the oversized dress on her tiny frame.  Her mousy hair always stood out like a cocklebur and she would wait for me every morning at the top of the stairs and stammer, “G-g-good morning,” to me.  I always responded kindly to her greeting, and her face would light up with a smile that would almost turn her inside out.  If Louise had any enthusiasm for anything, it was to find someone who would befriend her.

I had wondered who had drawn Louise’s name.  Since I had heard nothing, I had supposed everyone had accepted the name he had drawn with kindness and all was well.

As I returned to my room after dismissing the class for the day, I was surprised to find one of the girls waiting beside my desk.  She held a small square box in her hand, and quietly she began to tell her story.

Walter, the most popular boy in the class, had drawn Louise’s name and had wrapped a big piece of coal in tissue paper for her.  It was easily recognizable under the tree.  Hazel was afraid it would make Louise cry.  Could she please replace it with this gift?  She had earned it by helping her father in his general store after school.

Well, the big moment finally arrived.  The Christmas program was over and Santa had come to distribute the presents.  No one recognized the janitor behind the genial Santa mask as he began calling names and handing out gifts.  I realized that this tree nad the gift under it would be all the Christmas little Louise would know.  Her eyes were dancing and she could hardly keep her seat for excitement as she listened eagerly for her name to be called.

The boys were excited too.  They knew which name Walter had drawn and they were curious to see what he had done about it.  He was anxious, too, to prove to his buddies that he had no affection for the person whose name he had drawn.

Finally Santa called “Louise.”  She almost climbed over herself to get out of her seat and to claim her present.  Each gift so far had been a nice one.

The sound of snickering among the boys stopped and all eyes were on Louise as she was handed the little square box.  Nervously, she began unwrapping the package.  Suddenly a feeling of real joy filled every heart as we saw the wonderful expression of happiness and surprise that came to Louise’s face as she lifted her gift from its box.

“A doll!” she whispered, cuddling it to her and rocking it tenderly in her arms as she returned to her seat, where she continued to pour upon it all the love and affection for which she so earnestly yearned.

To Louise, the doll was not a gift from anyone – rather a Miracle fo the Christmas Tree.  To the rest of us, it was the Miracle of Christmas!  A dramatization of the fact that it is blessed to make someone happy.  No one had really meant to hurt or be unkind.  Hazel, in her remembering one of the least of these, had made it possible for the true spirit of Christmas to be magnified in every heart that day.

It was as though our little Louise had become the Christ Child before our very eyes.