CHRISTMAS PRESENT

By Robert D. Flanagan

As the brown doe drank from the icy river and the black bear slumbered in its dark den; as the red fox padded across the white field and the tall oak creaked against the cold wind; while the dark sky, dotted with stars and galaxies, held the world spinning in a spiraling solar system, wearied and soiled fingers tucked wee ones under cool sheets and heavy blankets.

Energetic toes squirmed and slender fingers clutched stuffed furry animals close to their hearts. Santa’s story, known by heart, needed no retelling, but the other one did: the baby in swaddling clothes, whose bed was a rough-hewn manger, and the lowing cows and softly bleating sheep, and the hymns of resplendent angels, and the stunned shepherds, and the bright star breaking into the vacant, Stygian sky, and the sagacious kings, lords from the East.

With the door cracked slightly ajar, the night light’s glow softly filtering in and the children settled and slumbering, the age-old tradition commenced.

The parents stepped with silent care, placing pretty presents and colorful packages under the ornament-adorned, glittering, green tree. At last, beside the winking Christmas lights witnessed by a half-eaten sugar cookie with its crumbs strewn about, and a sloppily sipped glass of milk and sooty footprints about the fireplace, a moment of peace was taken with soft lips, a long hug, and a faithful gaze.

Unexpected hope bloomed and joy unfurled in hearts longing for rest, peace, and love, in a demanding, demeaning culture pushing and poking the spirit to relent and surrender to baser things like material goods and saccharine satisfactions.

The doe, bear, fox, and oak stirred and lulled, not minding humanities vapid desires and amusements, in a world swirling through time and expanding space under the watchful care of its sublime Creator.