The House with the Christmas Mouse
djbeaulieu 11-17-2007
From under the kitchen table the small, gray, ball of fluff scurried about trying very hard not to get trampled on. The mission looked so easy from the living room. Of course, in that room there was a gigantic tree to hide under. This kitchen table was not nearly so friendly or peaceful. Delano’s mouse eyes refocused on the target, his mouth started to water – it was only two feet away. It dangled over the table’s edge just a “swing’n” and “dance’n.” What a tasty morsel it would make, “yum, yum.” The white and yellow puffed kernel loomed just past the edge of the table cloth, hanging there by a bright red and green thread. In fact, there were hundreds of them, but only that one, the one that was all alone, just “swin’n” and a “dance’n,” had caught his eye.
But, it was dangerous under the table for one as tiny as him. He had to be mindful of all the shoes that were bouncing to and fro. Weaving in and out of that array was difficult for him, at best. They could not seem to stay still. They were always moving from side to side or going up and down. So, not only must he worry about weaving in and out of this maze but to also stay out from under them as they danced about their chairs. They were like beast trying to blindly thump him. Delano was tiring of the game and getting very impatient. He had been told to always wait for the perfect moment and that success was always a matter of timing. The, the movement of feet stopped, he took his opportunity and leapt to the table’s leg and hung on quite easily. He was a very good jumper like his dad and his grandpa. His dad had been a champion gymnast and trampolinest while grandpa had been a great springboard diver. Delano scurried up the table’s leg and on to the inside of the table cloth. So far, so good; no one had heard anything. He eyed up the popcorn kernel and in an instant snatched it in his mouth and darted back down the table’s leg.
Dad had been scurrying about when he heard a tremendous racket and screaming streaming from the tiny kitchen. He noticed the cause immediately – Delano! Dad sighed, “…the best laid plans of mice and men.” Delano had the kernel he had sought, but he was totally unaware of the hundred or so kernels of pop corn following him. The ladies had been stringing popcorn for the Christmas tree and Delano had no idea that a tail of popcorn about six feet long was following him.
The feet scattered, and the dance of the “Tepee-toes” commenced and with it the great “Eeeking” song. Delano let go of the kernel and ran for his life. The dancing shoes were playing tag with him and he was in no mood – he was scared. He was afraid that one of them might get lucky and tag him. “Ouch!”
came Delano’s painful squeak. They had nicked his tail, but not Delano, for he was faster than their dancing feet. He made it to safety by scurrying under the refrigerator and into a split in the wall just behind it. He disappeared into the wall;
bounced through the escape panel and slide into home like the mighty “Babe.” Mom was just staring while his sister’s, Adeliene and Brea, watched bewilderedly. Dad came sliding in right behind Delano while his wife and daughters looked on. “Playing a game guys,” mom asked? Dad looked at Delano and began to laugh uncontrollably. “Safe at home,” dad laughed. “Two runs for the mice; zero for the people of the house,” dad echoed. Delano was confused at dad’s actions, but played along and laughed too. They were both in a deep belly laugh when mom chimed in. “Care to explain this?”
Delano’s nose turned red while dad told the story. Delano felt silly and embarrassed at what had happened. Obviously, his plan did not go off as well as he had expected. “That is an awesome story,” mom said. “That took a lot of nerve and your plan was a good one. You just did not quite do all the research needed in order to understand the problem. It is like trying to get an ‘A’ in school without doing homework or studying. It just does not work well. Does it?
Christmas will soon be here,” mom echoed, “and it’s going to be a special one for grandpa. He has been in this house for ten Christmases; almost ten years. He moved in here when grandma died. It turned out to be a very special place but not as special as the man who owned it. His name was Mr. Elder. Let’s see if Grandpa will tell us the story?”
“Please, grandpa, please! Please tell us! We like to hear the family stories,” the children chimed in. “We really do.”
Grandpa sat on the big stuffed chair and placed the large ottoman directly in front of him. He placed five year old Delano in the middle, eight year old Brea to Delano’s right and three year old Adeliene to his left. Mom and dad sat on the love seat next to grandpa. They loved to hear grandpa’s stories too. But, this was a new one, and they could tell it was going to a real special one. So, grandpa started. . . .
“When grandma passed on from this world to heaven it was a grand affair, but I was not up to it. I was sad. My best friend, lover, spirit mate, and brain teaser was gone. She left in great style though. The ‘Great Spirit Mouse’ sent hundreds of angels to escort her to heaven and I got to watch. I guess they thought I’d feel better seeing her pass on to heaven and for a while I did. Then I got lonely. It is like when one of you kids go for a sleep over or to camp. For a while it is OK, but then you get home sick. That is what happened to me. I wandered around for several months then I wandered into this tiny house of ours. It was occupied by and old man who lived alone. His wife had also died some years before I got here. This was his house before the present family and all of you moved in.
The house was peaceful and quiet, then. There were only two shoes for me to ever worry about. They were friendly and rarely threatening, because they moved slowly.
The springs and summers were nice, but the falls and winters were menacing. They were always cold, very cold and the food in winter was scarce. All I ever got to eat, at first, were a few morsels from the inside edge of the cans the old man threw a way. At first I was afraid of them. They always had a picture of our arch enemy on them and that always made me think twice before licking
them clean. I was afraid they might come to life and eat me, but they never did. They were only pictures and soon I understood about that.
The old man was a gentle person who I called Mr. Elder, because he was really old. For almost a year I stayed hidden in the shadows watching him and staying out of his way. Most people do not like mice, so I thought it wise to stay hidden as much as possible. He had many rituals, things that he would do over and over. Every morning he would get out two books. He would read aloud from one and hum hymns from the other. In the evening he would read stories from one and chant from the other.
He would rarely go any where. On the same day every week he would go to a place he called church. On another day he would always go to a store for food. He never did anything else, nor did any one ever come by.
Sometimes, I would cry for him. He was so alone, at least that what I thought. But, I learned, in time, he was never alone. He had his ‘Great Spirit’ that he said was always with him. He also said that he had thousand of friends that were with him continually. I never really understood that until my third Christmas here.”
Grandpa’s eyes started to fill up as the memories flooded his mind. He was empathic and felt love and sorrow more deeply that most. Sometimes he would cry or laugh for no apparent reason. No one would ask him about it; it just was just “the way.” It was part of being in “The Light,” they would say.
“OK. Where was I? Every once in awhile Mr. Elder would see me and call out to come and sit with him, but I was too afraid. Then one day he called to me,
‘Little mouse, come here and sit beside me on the arm of this chair.’ I was not going to go, but he had a piece of bread for me and a smile. It was a smile of love and respect. I could feel it. It was as though the great mouse angel, Mouseil, was telling me it was alright. So, I slowly meandered over to the chair and climbed upon its arm. I never took my eyes off Mr. Elder. He smiled and said, ‘Thank you for coming, my little friend. It’s not much, but it is better than the left over caned food.’ He always sat very still while I was on the arm of the chair and fed me carefully. He treated me with respect and made me feel special. After all, how many mice get the royal treatment from a person? I really felt important during those times.
Three times a year were really special to him and they soon became special to me. There was a time in the early spring, one in late fall and one in mid winter. I learned the name of the mid winter one, but not the other two. However, on those special holidays he would give me something he called angel cake. It was very good. He would always share. His meals were very limited. He always ate from the cans; had bread and drank water. During those special holidays, though, he would fix something different. He would put something between the bread and eat it. After that he would have the cake and drink something he called coffee. He would always share with me.
In fact after about 14 months we ate together every day at four in the afternoon. It was so special. Not only did he share his food with me but his table. He would always set a special place on the table for me. He called it the doll
china. We would eat together and he would talk while I would listen. As time went on we learned to trust each other and our time together became very special as well as symbolic.
Often, while chanting, he would call upon his angels to watch over a long list of people. I thought that to be strange, because no one every visited. Then one day I got added to the list. One day, after he said all the prayer names, he then said, ‘and especially my special friend the mouse.’ I would do the same for him, but silently, because he did not understand me. I however, only had a few angels. I did have the ‘Great Mouse Spirit,’ though. He had a ‘God Christ Spirit’ that seemed to be over the angels and he would ask all of them to bless me like all his other friends and he called it prayer.
The greatest gift came in our third year together during the holiday he called Christmas. On that special day he gave me the gift of a special name, ‘Christmouse.’ He smiled so when he said it. He even gave me a card with my new name embossed in gold. It was so beautiful. I kissed the card and quickly ran back to my den to get a gift for him. It was a feather that I had found near were grandma was buried. It was the most special possession I owned. I gave it to Mr. Elder and I started to cry. He cried for a long time too. Then he spoke and I truly understood him. He said, ‘You have given me something beyond measure, something I can never equal. Only angels give you feathers in death. When it comes from your dearly departed loved one it is beyond value. This is a great gift of sharing you have given me. Then, another miracle occurred, we could both understand each other which means we can now share in our ideas as well as our lives and feelings.’
Yes, we sat at the table that Christmas day as full equals. We were each fully involved in the world of the other, so that we’re now in one world, ours. Mr. Elder had been the one who had always talked for I could not. Now, we both could talk to each other. I understood his words clearly and he understood my squeaks. We shared our ideas for hours. We talked about our families our lives, our beliefs and our Gods. While off in the distance, we could hear the heralds of Christmas and the bell choir of a near by church ringing. It was a great day!
Then, the usually dim room burst into brilliance and was filled with a multitude of lights: blue, green, yellow, pink, purple, red, and gold, until all the colors of the spectrum filled the room and changed it to a brilliant white. The light was every where and as I looked around I began to shutter. Mr. Elder spoke, ‘Be not afraid Christmouse, these are the mighty angels of my God. Each holds the prism of the light that belongs to him or her and when they all join around the color becomes of a crystal pure white. Liken only to heaven. It happens frequently, but most us are unaware. It is the ‘power of the passage.’
The tiny house was filled with hundreds of angels but none seemed uncomfortable. It was so warm, so peaceful; so full of love. It was as if the ‘Great Spirit Mouse’ and Mr. Elder’s God had come to be with us and I believe they were. It was as though the power that holds this universe together was cradling us softly in its arms like a new born. It was like the wisdom of the universe was just pouring into Mr. Elder’s heart, spirit and soul. I saw a great smile fill his friendly face. At that point, I knew Mr. Elders was going to leave and go to live
with his God and the angels he had learned to love so dearly here on earth. He had found the peace so many of us seek. His smile was so happy, so pure, and just so delightful that I could not be sad. What a fantastic gift for Christmas. What more could one ask for. Mr. Elder’s was going to become eternal. Mr. Elder was going to heaven.
I learned, that night, that his name was William, but most people called him Billy. He had been a great wrestler in high school and college. But, being black was not always comfortable and his temper and negative attitude had often gotten him into trouble as a young man. I remember him saying that it’s not the color of our skin, or our size, or our social standing we should worry about. What we should worry about is helping others and gaining a positive attitude. He would say, ‘It is not the pain, nor the joy that matters, but it is what you choose to do with it. One’s glass should always be three quarters full – at least!’
God and the angels blessed Mr. Elder that day, filled his heart with love, and his soul with the spirit of Christ. But, before he left he told me, ‘Christmouse do not worry, I have been praying for this day and I’m ready to move on. It is some one else turn to laugh, cry, and pray for his fellows – to be their brother’s or sister’s helper. Every prayer you say helps someone to come closer to their God; sooner than if they were to do it on their own. My prayers were simple: Make me an instrument of your love and give out my prayers to my family, friends, and those who need them most.’ Then he looked peacefully at me and said, ‘Christmouse, please choose to let me go. You can miss me, but do not be sad and please bless all those you see and don’t see, day after day. Most of all always give back love, friendship and honor to everyone and you will get back ten times more than what you gave. God takes care of the sparrows of the field and he will surely take care of the mouse of this tiny house and all his children and grandchildren’s children. You and yours will always be welcome and protected here. The great archangel Michael, through the will of God, will see to it. He, also, knows all the mouse angels.’
A small bit of salty water filled my bottom eye lids, and a tear or two splashed helplessly to the floor below, my lips quivered and I sighed and yes, I cried for my dear friend. I cried happy tears for him and sad tears for me. He would be missed by no one but me.
But, in the end, Billy had the last word. As he floated into the light, I saw him talking to the great golden angel and smiled back at me. The great angel was Gabriel, who smiled and then winked at me. I instantly felt better. The great angel nodded to the angel of the winds, Ariel, and her soft pink glow engulfed me and melted my sorrows and fears into a puff of dandelion feathers. She reached down, scooped me up in the cradle of her hands, nestled my furry ears and kissed my mousy nose.
When I looked up, Billy was disappearing into the golden light. He was accompanied by the most gentle, kind, loving, powerful being I had ever seen or felt. He is the angel of ‘the passing’ and goes by the name Azael. He is the one who took Billy into heaven.
So, my dear ones, not only was that a Grand Christmas but also how I became one with those we call people; as well, as receiving my name –
Christmouse. Not long afterward the new family we live with now arrived. And, I have to say they do provide well for us, unbeknown to them. This will be a great Christmas, I’m sure!
As for you youngsters it is Christmas eve and I think you need to head off to bed to dream of Christ’s holy spirit and His abundance for us. I’m sure He will not mind you wishing for a few presents too.”
The children jumped off the ottoman and on to Grandpa’s lap for hugs and kisses. Grandpa was always good for lots of hugs and kisses. “Off to bed, kids,” said grandpa. “Dream well and I’ll see you in the morning, but not too early, please.”
Mom and dad hustled the children off to the study for the family moments of care and prayer. Then off to their rooms where they where tucked in with many hugs, kisses and a few belly rockets.
“Good night children, see you in the morning,” mom and dad said together.
“Ditto,” the children echoed.
The house fell silent to the sleeping of its occupants. It was finally able to rest too. Yes, there is more to a house than walls, floors, ceilings, and color. There was a tradition to uphold and an atmosphere to create and to reflect. What a great tradition Christmas is in the house. It was such an exciting time of giving and receiving. The house reached out, as it has done for the last seven years, and welcomed Billy’s spirit back. Isn’t it grand? Billy comes back every Christmas to bless the house and all who do, or ever will, live in it. He is and always was the guardian angel of grandpa - the Christmas mouse.
Every Christmas eve the family has the same dream. . . “May ‘The Light’ shine brightly in your heart and mind and may the peace that comes with Christ flow gently into your soul. May it always be with you to help you walk in the spirit of trust. Let your dreams weave peace, understanding and dazzle all those who you know. Merry Christmas to you all from your guardian angel, *Billy Elder.”
-----THE END, for now. -----
This work is protected under the laws of U.S. and International copyrights. No part
of this work may be copied or reproduced in any form without written consent
of The author. © Donald j. Beaulieu 2007.
* Billy Elder grew up in Bristol, PA and we were kinsmen. Too often of the silent kind. Billy is, as far as I know, is still alive and well. He simply came to mind while I was writing this story. Yes, Billy is an African American, whom I respect deeply.
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