“The Christmas Bell”

    The old farmhouse sat like a sentinel in the cold and lonely yard, a faint orange glow in the windows promised warmth inside gray walls. Two rosy cheeked children sat watching as their Daddy carried it in and Mama opened decorations to place upon the tree, it was getting close to Christmas and they had to make ready, you see.

    When finally the very last pretty was removed, it was found on the bottom of the box, the thing she was looking for most, the thing she eagerly sought.   

    It was only a piece of paper. Folded flat, faded, and old, but when mama took it from the box it was a treasure to behold. She held it gently in her hands, for it was fragile now, its lacy folds held safe inside were opened like a fan, unfurled for all to see. Its heart was red as a ruby and cast patterns on the wall. She hung it from the ceiling in the center of the room and streamers of crepe paper dispelled remaining gloom.

    The big paper bell sent magic rays reaching through the night and all the neighbors near and far could see the shinning light that sparkled though the Christmas bell that hung high in the room.

    Though the bell was silent and didn’t make a sound the children heard the angels sing like they did that star filled night so long ago, the night the blessed Babe was born, a night that was just as cold.

    And though this Christmas bell is old it emits a joy and praise and starts the celebration for a host of happy days.  

    The memory of the bell, held dear to the little boy and girl, now grown, and how it lit the little room filling it with love, and the promise made of things to come for all of them to share, a tradition passed to those who believe in the magic of the bell.

    Merry Christmas!

© Bodrury 2008