For the Birds, pt. 1

The Christmas story absolutely escaped Tom. The whole “God born in a manger” thing was beyond him. Or maybe it was just too simple for him to grasp. At least, until that Christmas Eve when the snow began to fall. Tom had just settled into his fireside chair and begun to read when he heard thumping sounds on the window and at first he thought someone was throwing snowballs. He went to the door. Looking into the yard, he found a small flock of birds, huddled there in the snow. They had been caught in the storm and had desperately tried to find shelter by flying through his large living room window. He knew he couldn’t let those little creatures freeze. The barn! Where the children keep the pony. That would provide shelter if he could get the birds in there.

He opened the barn doors and turned on a light. The birds didn’t move. Maybe some food would entice them. He sprinkled bread crumbs next to the stable door. Nothing. He tried catching them and shooing them. The birds went everywhere, except into the barn. They were afraid of him. I want them to trust me, he thought. How can I convince them I want to help? But any move he made tended to frighten them. They would not follow or be lead or shooed.

“If only I could be a bird myself,” he thought. “If I could be a bird and mingle with them and speak their language and show them the way to the barn, then they could see and understand.” It was at that moment the church bells began to ring. Listening to the good news, Tom understood--and sank to his knees in the snow.