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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1182096-A-NIGHT-TO-REMEMBER
Rated: E · Short Story · Contest · #1182096
Christmas contest entry
What a wonderful night it was! Never will I forget how so many gathered about the woman known as Mary and her husband Joseph, and of the tiny infant named Jesus who lay cradled in his mother’s arms swaddled in a warm blanket. I had heard the rumors that the babe was a holy one, this being the reason the three Kings had followed that bright Eastern star to Bethlehem bearing gifts of gold and other prized things, and why numerous Angels were now singing praise.

My eyes widened as the beautiful woman nodded her head in appreciation as the gifts were placed before she and her husband. I will never forget how the tiny infant smiled as if he knew why the presents were being given, nor the way the cows and other livestock appeared to be almost grinning themselves as the crowd grew larger.

How I wished I had brought a gift to give to the Holy One named Jesus! As the crowd pushed ahead of me, the beauteous sight was lost to me, for I was but ten. Standing only approximately four and a half feet tall, the adults who had made their way in front of me blocked my view. The only thing I could still see with clarity was the shimmering night star shining overhead. Beautiful as it was, I desperately wanted to see the baby again and to congratulate his parents. Something inside me told me that the rumors I had heard about the child being a special one, a holy one, were true, and I just had to find the means to get closer. Young as I was, I realized so many would not have traveled such a lengthy journey if this child was not all rumor claimed him to be.

Politely nudging myself until I was only several feet from the lovely woman, her husband, and the infant, I was awestruck by what was witnessed. A warmness was felt within as I watched Mother Mary gaze upon her son with the most angelic smile I had ever seen in my lifetime. It was the most touching sight I had ever seen. All I could do was simply stare at the threesome and wish again that I had something special to give to them too. But what could one with nothing give them? My heart sank. I could offer them nothing. That was a painful realism. My parents could barely manage to put food on the table for me and my six siblings. There was no way I could even offer Mary and Joseph a wedge of bread.

As if she had read my mind, the infant’s mother looked my way and said, “Would you like to come closer and see the babe?”

A winning smile lit my features, and I shook my head affirmatively. “Yes ma’am. I would like that very much.”

The crowd parted so that I could move forward, and for a brief moment I almost felt like royalty. A grin came to my lips again when the Angels overhead began to sing tunes of joy to the newborn King again as I neared the tiny manger where the infant was now resting peacefully. I faltered for only an instant before stooping downward and placing a gentle kiss upon the baby’s cheek, astonished when a spark of instant love infiltrated my heart. I loved this child like he were my own brother! It was uncanny, but true. Never had I felt such instant emotion for anyone before, and I was more than a bit perplexed.

The cattle began mooing then, awakening the tiny one, yet baby Jesus uttered not a sound. For a moment our eyes fused, and what almost appeared to be a sparkle was observed in the child’s eyes. Was it my imagination, or did the infant really like me as I did him? Absurd as it might sound, I knew, just knew, that my instinct was right. This babe was not only one of holiness, but one who had been born loving and with a gentleness no one present could deny. Yes, he was surely to be the King of Kings!

The Angels continued singing joyous songs of praise to welcome and honor the newborn as I summoned up enough bravery to remove the warm wool coat and place it before the manger. At the time I did not care that my parents would be angry with me and punishment would be received for giving away the only coat I owned. I merely wanted to give the infant Savior a gift.

“I wish I could give more, ma’am,” I said to his parents. “but it is all I have.”

Mother Mary retrieved the coat and flashed me a stunning smile. “You have already given our son a most priceless gift,” she returned softly, handing me the article of clothing. “You have given Jesus your love. That is the most extravagant gift one can give to another. Bless you, my child.”

Why did that star seem to shine even brighter than before? Why was the enormous crowd smiling at me as if I had given the babe a bag of gold instead of merely the offering of my woolen coat? The answer came to me swiftly enough. Love. Mother Mary was right. Love was a gift that could not be measured like another. I had felt it from the time I had placed the kiss upon the infant’s cheek, and the feeling was sensational.

“You are a special little boy,” Joseph spoke up. “Our son will always cherish the gift you have given him, as will we, for it is priceless.”

“Jimmy,” I supplied the information without hesitation for some unknown reason. “My name is Jimmy.”

“A wonderful name for a wonderful child,” Mother Mary rejoined, that lovely smile still upon her lips. “Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you for loving our son.”

“You would not let me give him my coat,” I said. “but he will have my love eternally.”
“That sentiment will one day lead to your salvation,” Mary stated tenderly. “You will be rewarded in a way you shall not forget, Jimmy.”

Why did my heart both soar and bleed when hearing this? It was like the child’s mother knew something and was purposefully withholding it from me. But what? I dared not question her about my hunch, something within alerting me that now was not the appropriate time. Kneeling down to place another kiss upon the infant’s cheek, I politely excused myself so that the others could pay their respects.

Gazing upwards into the Heavens one last time as I sauntered off, I was awestruck. Not only did the East Star burn brighter than ever, but a brilliant white beacon penetrated the darkened sky. Was it my imagination, or had I really heard a gentle voice thank me for coming? I made my way home unaware if I had truly heard the words, yet knew without a doubt that this was one night I would always remember, and one I never wanted to forget.



© Copyright 2006 SHERRI GIBSON (sherrigibson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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