The Christmas Wishes

I'd like to tell you a story. A Christmas story, if you will. It has a beginning, as all stories must, but as yet, it has no end, because, you see, it is an ongoing story and all its bits and pieces are still being sorted out, falling into the place where certain things come together and wending their assigned place in the grand scheme of things.

Once upon a time, close to fifty years ago, a young girl had a simple Christmas wish. No, she never mentioned it to a soul, but a wise old woodcarver heard that heart wish and did his best, in his own inimitable way, to make her wish come true.

You see, this child wore thick glasses, coke-bottle glasses they were oft called, and the children made fun of her. The girl had been in an accident and for quite some time, she'd been essential blind. For months and many surgeries, her eyes had been bandaged after flying face first through the windshield of her family's car in a head-on collision. The man, who unintentionally had caused the accident, had been driving too fast, following an ambulance that held his dying wife. He drove the wrong way down a one lane drive trying to get to the emergency room. The girl and her parents were just leaving the hospital where the girl had been for some time after an operation and was finally being allowed to go home. She never made it, indeed, ended up in the very same bed she'd just left.

No one knew for sure if the girl would ever see again and while awaiting the results of the surgery to remove much glass from her eyes, she was taught how to see without her eyes. She learned how to tap-toe walk, how to listen to how poured liquid changed its sound when a glass was nearly full, how to track her steps and memorize how to get from one place to another. She learned to read braille and make sense out of a series of ever-changing dots on a piece of paper.

When the big day came, after that last chance operation and the bandages were to come off, you can just imagine the joy all felt, especially the little girl, when she was able to see. She was so happy that it didn't even bother her when she realized she would have to wear thick glasses to be able to see clearly. They weren't pretty glasses, indeed, they had thick black rims and made the little girl look, as several unfeeling and less than tactful children told her, like a raccoon with big, thick, black eyes.

Now this part of the story has been told before in several forms and even been published. It was called 'The Christmas Angel' and can be found, I'm sure, if one were to search around a bit for it. It is there you may read of the wise wood-carver and what he did that changed the little girl's life. What wasn't included in that part of the tale, was what the wood-carver told her that evening when the initial commotion had settled down.

"Granted wishes to not come freely, " he said as they talked in front of his fireplace in the rear of his shop. "Even fulfilled wishes need work to truly have them come true. What happens next will have a lot to do with how you handle the changes. Some will come quicker than others, my dear, but your attitudes will have much to do with how successful your wish becomes."

Now, the girl didn't really understand what he meant and told the old woodcarver so. He proceeded to explain to her that she would over time. He finished by saying, "Remember, you will have to forgive the ones that didn't understand and you will have to find ways to enlighten them. In time, your wish will be absolute. Now we need to talk about payment."

The little girl was taken aback. She didn't know that wishes cost something. "I only have fifty-two cents left from my allowance," she said. "I don't expect that will be enough," she finished with a sad look.

"I don't want money, child," he said. "There is no amount of money on this earth that can pay for a wish, let alone a Christmas Wish! What do you like to do more than almost anything, now that you have your eyes back?" he asked her.

"I like to write," she smiled her answer.

"Exactly. Just as I use my skills to create with wood things that bring joy and sometimes, answer wishes, so you must use your words to do the same thing. Let your words reach out and touch other people. Bring them smiles or use your words to tell stories that may touch someone's heart or change their direction. Let your words be like so many guideposts. Can you do that?"

"I can," she replied. "I can write a story."

"Not just one story," he answered her. "You must do this the rest of your life. For always. You've already been told this, have you not?"

The young girl looked up at him, a startled look on her face. She'd never told him her 'Camelot' story, but what he'd said was true. She had been told by another to be a 'teller of tales and a creator of stories.' She'd almost forgotten all about that. She smiled and said she'd remember. Then she asked him, "How will I know what to write? How will I know anything that might help someone? I'm just a kid."

"You won't always be 'just a kid,' " he said. "You will know, the ideas will flow into you and you will write them down. Sometimes, you may write a specific story for someone. But at other times, you will write, just to write. Many people will read your words. You may never know, indeed, you often will not know, but your words will find the ones who will be touched by them. For now, and for the next few years, until you are older, you need to write your stories and simply give them as gifts. Will you do that? The rest will all come in their own time."

She smiled and nodded. He gave her a hug and sent her back outside into the gently falling Christmas snow. The old woodcarver watched through the front window of his toyshop as she walked away home with her parents. He was so tired. His very bones ached and he looked up at the bespectacled angel high atop the tree in the window. He smiled and then settled his old bones in his rocking chair by the fire. Everything would come round, he thought as he fell into his last long sleep in front of the fire.

The Christmas Angel  (E) Christmas poem with a message...great for children and/or reading aloud! #945279 by Fyn

should one want to read....