Once upon a time, there was a man who
looked
upon Christmas as a lot of humbug. He
wasn't
a scrooge. He was a kind and decent
person,
generous to his family, upright in all
his
dealings with other men. But he didn't
believe all that stuff about incarnation
which churches proclaim at Christmas.
And he
was too honest to declare that he did.
"I am truly sorry to distress you," he
told
his wife, who was a faithful
church-goer.
"But I simply cannot understand this
claim
that God became man. It doesn't make any
sense to me."
On Christmas Eve, his wife and children
went to church for the midnight service.
He
declined to accompany them.
"I'd feel like a hypcrite," he
explained.
"I'd much rather stay at home. But I'll
wait
up for you."
Shortly after his family drove away in
the
car, snow began to fall. He went to the
window and watched the flurries getting
heavier and heavier.
"If we must have Christmas," he thought,
"It's nice to have a white one." He went
back
to his chair by the fireside and began
to
read his newspaper.
A few minutes later, he was startled by
a
thudding sound. It was quickly followed
by
another, then another. He thought that
someone must be throwing snowballs at
his
livingroom window.
When he went to the front door to
investigate, he found a flock of birds
huddled miserably in the snow. They had
been
caught in the storm, and in a desperate
search for shelter had tried to fly
through
his window.
"I can't let these poor creatures lie
there
and freeze," he thought. "But how can I
help
them?"
Then he remembered the barn where the
children's pony was stabled. It would
provide
a warm shelter. He put on his coat and
galoshes and tramped through the
deepening
snow to the barn.
He opened the doors wide and turned on a
light. But the birds didn't come in.
"Food
will bring them in," he thought. So he
hurried back to the house for bread
crumbs,
which he sprinkled on the snow to make a
trail into the barn.
To his dismay, the birds ignored the
bread
crumbs and continued to flop around
helplessly in the snow. He tried shoeing
them
in the barn by walking around and waving
his
arms.
They scattered in every direction;
except
into the warm, lighted barn. "They find
me a
strange and terrifying creature," he
said to
himself. "And I can't seem to think of
any
way to let them know they can trust me.
If
only I could be a bird myself for a few
minutes, perhaps I could lead them to
safety."
Just at that moment, the church bells
began
to ring. He stood silently for a while,
listening to the bells pealing the glad
tidings of Christmas. Then he sank to
his
knees in the snow.
"Now I do understand," he whispered.
"Now I
know why you had to do it."
Louis Cassells
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