Christmas of 1942

The year, 1942, Christmas had arrived and smoke was billowing from the chimney. John spent an evening alone. He sat alone cherishing the Christmas story, as he read the book of Matthew.  

John’s eyes blue as satin, draped in a hue of awe and wonder, as he took a gander out the window pane looking at the snow covered mountain peaks. When suddenly the sun wiped it’s sweat from its brow, for its shadow appeared through the window. It was then that an angel with charcoaled eyes all over his wings appeared. Afraid and not knowing how to react, and his face filled with terror; he grasped the knob on his bed, holding it with all his might, as his body shrieked backward. The angel put up his mighty hand of valor saying, “Don’t be afraid, I have come baring good tidings.” The angel proceeded to hand a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes into the boy’s arms. As the Christ child gazed into the paleness of John’s eyes, John saw the reflection of the world. Wars past and present could be seen falling as if a tear drop from a man on a cross, in the mirror of the pupil of an infant. 

He decided to thank the angel, but when he turned his head, no one was there to receive his words. Nothing but empty cloths in his hands and a quiet room. John looked up toward heaven, said his word of thanks and said a prayer. He finished the Christmas story and closed the Bible, then he heard a wrap at his door. “Tap tap tap,” went the door knocker. He opened it to find poor orphans singing carols shivering in the cold. John ushered them quickly inside. He brought them by the fire and gave them hot chocolate, coats, hats, and gloves to keep them warm for when they go back out into the cold. He told them about Jesus and his experience with an angel, and getting a chance to see and hold Jesus. 

As John tasted of slumber and his head hit the pillow he felt satisfied about how he spent his day.