It's
Christmas time and I could talk about Christmas traditions, Christmas magic,
Christmas spirit. The season offers a lot of opportunity for reflection.
But
what I'm going to discuss is a Christmas book, The Littlest Angel, and its impact on me years ago.
According
to the front page of the book, The
Littlest Angel was written in 1939 at the request of Screen Guild
producers, who asked Charles Tazwell to "write something" as a backup
plan if one of the guild's productions fell through. The crisis that it was
created to avert never happened but the story aired on a Christmas radio show.
In 1946, the book was released by Childrens Press of Chicago. The story was
presented in various forms over the years, from radio, to book, to magazine, to
record, to a Hallmark Hall of Fame production in 1969.
A
brief summary of the story:
Many,
many years ago, a four-year-old boy entered heaven. From his first step into
paradise he upset the heavenly peace with his behavior and fairly unangelic
antics, though he tried to do what was expected of him. But mostly he missed
the things on earth he had enjoyed – trees to climb, streams to fish, and caves
to play in – and he longed for the sun and the rain and dark of night and light
of dawn.
When
he learned of the homesickness the littlest angel was suffering, the
Understanding Angel sent a messenger to procure a box of the littlest angel's
treasures from earth, and from then on the boy was a happy and angelic angel.
As
the birth of baby Jesus approached, the heavens were excited and all angels
gathered to place gifts for the holy infant at the feet of God. Even the
littlest angel had found a suitable gift and placed it lovingly in the pile of
gifts. But when he saw his unsightly box among the other glorious gifts, he
felt embarrassed and wanted to take it back and hide it.
When
God's hand moved over the selection of gifts, he stopped at the box from the
littlest angel. The littlest angel was so afraid as the box was opened and
everyone including God saw the gift he offered. It was nothing, he thought. It was
simply a butterfly with golden wings, a sky-blue egg, two white stones, and a
tooth-marked collar once worn by his dog. He was miserable. To think he'd believed
these simple things would be fitting gifts for Jesus.
But
God singled out his gifts as the gift that pleased Him most. And the rough,
unsightly gift began to glow, rise, and shine brilliantly over the stable where
the baby Jesus was born. And all men called it the shining star of Bethlehem.
The
message of this book gave me a confidence boost when I was young. It came back
to me as an adult, still powerful, and reminded me to be myself and not judge
my writing so harshly. We writers give from our hearts and hope others enjoy
the stories we create as much as we enjoy writing them. It's important to love
our own stories.
I
wish you all the blessing of self-actualization, free from harsh self-judgment,
this holiday season. May you see the beauty in your gift.
7 comments:
Just reading your summary has me reaching for a box of tissues. Best wishes for the holiday season (smile!).
Aww. This is so awesome. Merry Christmas, Lynn!
-R.T.
Angela, thank you. Best wishes back at you.
R.T., thank you for your sweetness in the world.
I remember seeing a TV version of the Littlest Angel as a kid -- thanks for the memories!
Thanks for the timely reminder that the best gifts come from the heart!
Lovely essay. Thanks, Lynn
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