A Christmas Story of the Feathery Kind 12/24/12

    I'm bumping this up.  I wrote this last year, posting it exactly a year ago, today.  I see from the sidebar on the right that many have been reading it.  It is the most popular post for this week and the third most popular for the month.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did in writing this re-telling of it.

    May your Christmas be Merry and Bright.  And, Jesus is the reason for this season.   The Innkeeper. 

Here's the post: 

      Please gather round the fireplace that warms this inn.  You’ve been frazzled by the siren call of Madison Avenue, QVC, the Home Shopping Network, Radio Shack and Macy commercials.  You’ve been overwhelmed
by the cacophony of noise while enduring the whirly burly of frenzied shopping.  Please take time to slow down. The innkeeper would like to share with you a story that places this season in perspective, for him.

      My favorite Christmas Story is, well, the Christmas Story.  The following tale is my second favorite.  I heard it first when I was fourteen, decades ago.  I heard it a second time, on TV, narrated by Efrem Zimbalist Jr.  The following is my effort at retelling it.   I’d love hearing your thoughts about it. 

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      A pleasant, but reasonable man named James didn’t care for Christmas.  He was not a Grinch nor a  Scrooge.  He just didn't want to have anything to do with Christ.  A hard heart, he didn't have. He was kind in his interactions with others and well-liked by his neighbors and co-workers.   

     It was the concept that an "all-mighty, all-powerful" God that sent His Son to earth, as a man, that didn't make sense.  If God existed, he reasoned, the Almighty could open up the heavens and speak with mankind directly, telling us what mankind needed to know.  The whole “Jesus thing” he considered ridiculous.  Jesus was just a well-meant fantasy for this educated man of the 21^st century.

     As Christmas Eve approached.  James followed his holiday routine.  He partied at a friend’s house, enjoying good company along with holiday cheer. At 11:15 p.m. that night, he arrived at home.  Before walking in he brushed off snow from his coat, which had begun to softly blanket his lawn, home and neighborhood.

   Once inside his house, James prepared a fire in the living room fireplace.  He looked forward to reading a book while waiting for the fire to take the chill out of his home, before calling it a night.  Thirty minutes into his reading, he heard a loud thump!  His curiosity peaked when he heard it again: thump!  He couldn’t figure out the source for this irregular percussive noise.  He heard it a third time: thump!  Something was hitting his large living room window that faced out towards his front yard.

     Thinking there were teenagers throwing snowballs at his home, James rushed outside. There were no kids in his front yard.  As he encircled his house, still looking for the cause of this peculiar noise, the snowfall descended heavily.  The icy wind bit into his cheeks. He looked forward to the fire awaiting him, when he re-entered his suburban home.

     Returning to the front yard, James saw them for the first time.  A flock of birds.  Just then, James witnessed two birds dart away from the others, slamming into the plate-glass living room window.  Thump, thump!  These feathered creatures hit the window so violently that their bodies fell dead to the ground below.

     James put the pieces together. The birds, confused and frightened by the heavy, swirling snow – were flying in despair.  They saw inside his house and sought shelter from the bitter cold of this Christmas Eve evening.  They were attempting to get inside, seeking refuge.  No matter how hard they tried, they could not succeed.

     Thump! Thump! Thump!  Three more of the birds dove into the glass, falling lifeless to the snowy ground.  A good heart, James had.  It troubled him to see the plight of the birds.  He ran inside his home.  All of the lights in his living room, he turned off.  He thought, if the birds couldn’t see inside, they might stop their attempts at getting in.  

      Even though the birds no longer saw inside his home, the now darkened window held the appearance of shelter – a cave opening, perhaps. The birds continued smashing into the glass, their small, feathered bodies piled up beneath the living room window.

     The man ran to his garage 30 feet away.  He threw open the wide door to give the birds shelter.  But the birds persisted in slamming themselves against the window, desperate for a haven from the sub-freezing weather, they were.  James rushed inside the garage and turned on the lights. Now, he thought, they’ll be able to see that the refuge they need is right over here. But the birds’ focus on getting through the window prevented that possibility.

      Thump! Thump! Other frantic birds crashed into the window, in their vain attempt at finding warmth. James tried calling out to the birds. “Hey! Over here! Over here!”  Still, the birds could not be beckoned to the protection of the garage.

       Finally, he rushed into the remaining flock.  He yelled and waved his arms.  If earlier the birds had been confused and frightened, they were now absolutely startled.  They saw a wild man among them, scaring them.   

       James realized the futility of his actions.  The birds could not be herded towards his garage.  The sickening sound of Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!  echoed their stubborn efforts at entering  his home. 

       Not knowing what to do, James stood there in the darkness, snow falling all around. He watched the birds die one by one.  He thought, “If only I could be a bird for just a few minutes. . . I could talk to them in their language – they wouldn't be afraid of me; they would understand me, and I could tell them what they needed to do to save themselves.”

       As he was thinking, the church bells from the town began to peal.  It was midnight; the rings ushered in Christmas morning, the day set aside to celebrate Christ's birth. The snow continued to fall everywhere, upon the fences, upon the rooftops of the homes in the community, upon the nearby hills, blanketing the landscape.  As it did so, James crumpled to his knees. 

      “Now I understand why Christ had to become a man, now I understand.” he whispered, his head bowed, his chin touching his chest.  He felt the warmth of tears flowing down his icy cheeks.  “I now understand the Gift celebrated by many on this day.”

         May you have a great and grateful Christmas!