Christmas Dragon (Story)

Our story begins way back in a time when dragons still freely roamed throughout lands and flew in the skies over Eastern Europe. There was a small village nestled on the banks of a small river at the bottom of a deep valley. The river’s source was this large, clear lake higher in the mountains where a natural dike held back the water and let only a small amount trickle gently down into the valley below.

On this particular day, a young – and rather bored – blue dragon was bent on mischief. He decided to tear down the dike to see how many villagers could scramble out of the path of the impending flash-flood – much like a child who dams a curbside rivulet and then removes the twigs and mud to see how many ants would be swept away.

Unknown to the blue dragon, there was an older golden dragon higher on the mountaintop observing him. The young dragon latched onto the dike with his claws and pulled away large chunks of earth, opening the way to the rush of water. The older dragon sadly shook his huge scaled head, opened his golden wings to the bright afternoon sunlight and dove into crisp mountain air.

Within a heartbeat, he was atop a small hill that rose beside the river above the village. Two graceful bounds brought him to the foot of the hill opposite the river, where the dragon planted his foreclaws into the hillside. He began to push the whole hill toward the river. The river waters started to gurgle louder as the surface quickly reached the limits of the river’s banks. The hill would not budge; even for a mighty dragon, this was an unlikely feat of strength. A dull roar thundered up the valley – growing louder by the second. The dragon strained all the muscles in his body as he tried to will the stone beneath the dirt and tree-cover to move.

Then his sharp hearing then caught the terrified shouts and cries from the village downriver.

The golden dragon cast his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. At once, strength beyond his experience filled his muscles, and with a desperate roar tearing from his throat, he cracked the bedrock and thrust the small hill into the river’s path below.

A large crash thundered along the valley as dirt, rock and tree tumbled into the churning brown water below. Moments later a deafening roar reverberated up the valley as the main body of the flash flood collided with the newly-made dam.

The sudden strength quickly left the golden dragon. He bowed his head elegantly in thanks, then unfurled his wings to take flight. Leaping into the air, he spied the young blue dragon hurtling toward him, seething in anger.

“Why have you done this?” the blue dragon roared, flinging a claw in the direction of the water rising safely behind the new dam.

The golden dragon sighed. He looked at the younger dragon with pity in his great golden orbs and replied, “If you truly wish to learn, follow me and I will share what I know.” With a majestic sweep of his wings, the late afternoon sunlight sparkling golden on his sides, the older dragon flew gracefully toward a ledge high on a mountaintop.

Perplexed, the younger dragon followed silently behind him. At the ledge, the golden dragon perched on the bare rocks and surveyed the valley and village far below. When the blue dragon landed lightly beside him, the older dragon turned his golden gaze to him and said, “Furl your wings and listen to my tale.”

“When I was a young dragon, centuries ago, I lived in the desert far southeast from here. One night, I awoke to discover this brilliant light shinning down into the cave I used as my weir.

"Moving to the cave’s entrance, I discovered the most remarkable stellar light shining down from the heavens. Curious, as I was in those days, I spread my wings and flew out into the clear star-speckled desert sky.

“During this flight, I witnessed a small band of travelers crossing the desert sands. They kept glancing skyward. At first, I believed they heard the wind from my wings, but they always looked toward the same bright star; a star that even outshone the moon’s glow that night.

“Careful not to be seen, I swept closer to observe them better. These were men, wealthy by their standards, and far from home by their appearance and dress. They plodded along on their camels, sure in their path across the dry land.

“My curiosity rose a notch and keeping downwind of their mounts, I landed and quietly approached them. ‘Where are you heading so far from your home?’ I asked them in what I hoped was their language.

“Recognition lit in their eyes at hearing my words, though they and their camels shied away from my luminous gaze. ‘We are going to see the king whose star we have seen in the east,’ one replied, sweeping his arm toward the bright star.

“‘We are bringing gifts to present to him,’ another added as he gestured to the parcels tied to their mounts. My nose detected the frankincense and myrrh, and I could see the shapes of scrolls and books.

“This perplexed me somewhat. ‘Why would you travel so far from home, through cold desert nights and hot, dry desert days on such a long journey to give away your treasures to a newborn child? What will you get in return?’

“This question seemed to puzzle them and they spoke briefly among themselves. Then one turned back to me and replied, ‘These are gifts, not trade goods; we expect nothing in return.’

“‘Nothing!?!’ said I. ‘After you spend all your time, resources and efforts to trek across the desert with treasures to give to a babe you’ve never seen? You expect NOTHING in return?’

“Another of the men paused in thought a moment, perhaps trying to understand my perspective. At last he answered, ‘We may receive the new king’s blessings, His Grace.’

“‘Grace?’ I felt my eyes sparkle in sheer curiosity at this. ‘What is Grace?’

“‘It is the greatest treasure of all,’ came the reply.

“I pondered these words for several moments, my tail trashing through the dry air as it does when I’m deep in new thoughts. Then I wanted to confirm my thoughts. I said to them, ‘Let me see if I understand you. If you give your treasures to this newborn king – the one whose star you follow – he will give you this Grace?’

“‘We believe it to be so,’ one stated as the others nodded in agreement.

“I considered this a moment more and asked, ‘If I also go with my treasure and give it to this child king, could I also receive this Grace?’

“The men paused again to confer among themselves and one replied, ‘We believe there is that possibility as well, though we never considered it a gift your kind ever needed, noble dragon.’

“I rose up on my haunches and responded, ‘If this Grace is truly the greatest gift of all, it is something my kind would also desire to possess. I unfurled my wings ready to take flight and asked, ‘Where can I find this newborn king?’

“One pointed skyward and instructed, ‘Follow the brightest star until it shines straight down upon the dwelling where He is. The child will be found inside.’

“I thanked them and permitted the men and the camels to continue on their journey. When they were a safe distance, I leapt into the star-filled sky. In a few wingstrokes, I was back at my weir where I gathered all the gold I possessed. For surely if this Grace was indeed the greatest treasure of them all, it was worth all that I possessed. With my young arms so burdened, I launched myself skyward. Quickly I overtook the men and their slow-moving camels and continued toward our mutual destination far ahead of them.

“Checking the star’s location often, I found myself approaching a small walled town the humans called Bethlehem. But as I started to descend toward the town, the brilliant starlight sparkled like diamonds along my golden hide. The soldiers on the wall saw my descent and shouted the alarm. As spears, rocks and arrows began to hurtle toward me, I dodged and maneuvered around the missiles. All too quickly, it became obvious that I would have to leave or slaughter the city’s defenders. I decided this quest was not worth the fight. Perhaps this new king did not want dragonkind to have this Grace, I thought sadly.

“As I arced over the town to return to the desert, I felt a gentle tug at the fabric of my very inner self. The newborn king knew I was there. But I could not present my own gifts to Him. I sadly shook my head and winged away from the soldiers and their walled town of Bethlehem.

“Soon I met with the foreign men still out in the desert. I landed lightly downwind of them once again and approached them with the gold still heaped in my arms.

“As I related to them what transpired at Bethlehem, I did not tell them about that strange tug to my inner self or the growing warmth of Love and understanding that seemed affixed deep within me. I did not yet know what this new sensation was.

“At the conclusion of my tale, I placed the gold before the men and requested, ‘Take this gold to the newborn king and tell him it’s my gift to Him.’

“The men fell silent and exchanged glances. One was brave enough to ask, ‘And you seek nothing in return?’

“I shook my head, yearning to depart from them for this strange feeling deep inside me needed quiet contemplation.

“The men looked at the heaps of gold on the ground and at their well-burdened camels. At last, an idea bloomed in the mind of one. ‘Wait yet a moment more, noble dragon. For we can not take all our gifts AND your gift of gold with only the mounts we have. Let me give you my gift to take home with you.’ The man that spoke rapidly emptied his parcels of the scrolls and bound books of wisdom and refilled the sacks with my gift. ‘I will tell the newborn king this is your gift. This,’ he gestured toward the small mountain of knowledge, ‘is my gift to dragonkind.’

“This man knew our kind well, for we forever seek to gain knowledge and wisdom, but I did not understand why he was giving it as a gift. I asked, ‘What do you want in exchange for this knowledge given to my kind?’

“He replied, ‘The same I expected from the newborn king, nothing; it is a gift.’

“‘What about His Grace?’ I asked.

“The man climbed up onto his camel and urged it to rise. Then he met my eyes, and I saw the Wisdom that filled his own. After a moment of silence, he quietly replied, ‘I believe we have both already received that gift from the newborn king.’

“I sat in the open desert for a long time after that, watching the men follow the brilliant star toward Bethlehem. That new feeling deep inside me never left and is still with me today.”

When the golden dragon had finished his remarkable tale, the blue dragon cocked his head in interest. “So then you received this gift of Grace?”

The golden dragon nodded elegantly yet humbly. “You have seen it within my actions today.”

“What about the books and scrolls of wisdom?” asked the blue dragon skeptically. Then he paused and his cobalt eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re Him! You’re the one who brought wisdom and knowledge to all dragonkind!”

“Yes, but I also brought a far greater gift to our kind as well,” responded the golden dragon quietly.

“What?”

“His Grace.”

The expression on the blue dragon’s face showed a blend of skepticism and curiosity. “You can share that gift with others? How could I get some? Where do I have to go for it?”

The golden dragon raised his head to peer wistfully at the first evening star shining on the eastern horizon. “You must be willing to give up what you treasure most to find the greatest treasure of all. Then look deep within yourself. When you are ready to receive it, it will be there.”

The young blue dragon peered at the evening star and with a sigh turned to the golden dragon. “But this newborn king you knew is no longer in this world. It was so long ago and humans do not live as long as our kind. How am I to receive His Grace then?”

The golden dragon looked down at the blue dragon and smiled a broad draconic smile, his golden eyes sparkling with an inner Joy. “Oh, that King still lives. That was only the very beginning of His story. Do as I say and you too will find Him and His Grace.”

Road to Bethlehem (Story)

This story was written two years ago; I wanted to share it again with my readers in this Season of Hope.
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Road to Bethlehem

The open-backed pickup truck swerved and bounced over the slick, uneven pavement, mercilessly jostling the passengers seated in the back. One of Mary's hands held tight to the side of the truck-bed with a death grip, fingers numb in the icy wind. Her other hand rested on her swollen belly, trying to will peace and comfort to her unborn as she tried to keep curses for travels woes from her mind - in vain. 

Joe looked up across the truck-bed from her. His thin coat wasn't keeping the chill from his bones; it didn't help that the zipper was long since broken. The wind tousled his hair as he reached across and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze over her womb. "Sorry about the car, Mary. Maybe we'll find someone to help fix 'er in the next town."

Mary bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes; damn these hormones! She wanted to rage about the car, the fact that they couldn't afford to get it fixed sooner, the fact that her whole life really sucked right now. Damn it! She was only 17! She should be making plans for the prom, hanging out with her friends after school, and celebrating the holdiay with family. Not this... Not alone...

But she wasn't alone. She had Joe.

Joe wasn't the father of her child; a boy her own age was. But the moment she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a rock. Worse, he tarred her reputation - both in school and online. Her friends all told her to get an abortion, but she couldn't. Something inside her soul treasured life too much to kill something. There WAS life inside her; she felt it move, felt the child roll over, knew when it slept. She didn't even know if it was to be a boy or girl. There were no visits to the doctor since the first trimester; there was no insurance to pay for it. Clinics asked too many questions...

Her parents tossed her out soon after the boy dumped her. They called her a slut, a whore. And a lot worse. She went to the local shelter; it was OK the first few days. Then she drew the eyes of some men there. They assumed that if she was already pregnant, it didn't matter; she couldn't conceive twice. And if she was in that position, she must be an "easy girl." She wasn't, but they didn't take "No!" for an answer...

She pushed those memories roughly aside. She had Joe now.

She looked at Joe, studying his features as he watched the winding road ahead. He was older than her, in his late twenties. She was fond of him and found herself fascinated by him. 

After the shelter, Mary had wandered from place to place around Philadelphia, looking for a safe place to rest at night and collecting cans from the garbage during the day to earn money for food - a task that grew increasingly difficult as her pregnancy swelled. While she was still living "on the streets" she ran into Joe, who was in town on some business. He offered to take her in and let her stay in his spare bedroom - no strings attached, no questions asked.

And he meant that. He didn't have much himself, just a two-bedroom apartment north of Philadelphia. He cleaned out the second room which was originally used as a improv workshop. He was a woodworker by trade. During the day, he worked as a carpenter with the Allentown union, traveling all over the area on a wide range of construction jobs. When he had some time, though, he loved whittling wood into the most remarkable figurines. Some he would sell through friends at the local flea market, but most were gifts for friends and family. Mary enjoyed the room. It was warm, safe... and now the scent of sawdust and wood shavings brought her comfort.

Another hard bump sent pain shooting up Mary's spine. Damn this road! A shouted apology came from the overcrowded cab of the pickup truck. There were already three people squeezed across the bench seat; the truck owner, his pregnant wife and their small son in a car seat. Thus Mary and Joe had to ride in the back.

Given their age differences, he made no advances on Mary. She was someone in need and he was able to help - somewhat. He had little in savings. His income provided food, clothing, heat and paid the bills, but the car was old and temperamental. While he had health insurance, he could not offer any to Mary. The state would not extend Medicaid unless she divulged her personal information; Mary was adamant that she didn't want to answer all those questions - again! So, despite all his pleadings, there was no doctor to see for the sake of her child and herself. He borrowed several books from the library and they poured over the information in them for hours - together."We're here," Joe breathed as he pointed to a sign that read, "Welcome to Bethlehem."

Darkness had fallen on the ride and Mary looked through the plumes of exhales as they entered the town. It was decorated for the holiday with many lights and greenery. Cars were piled with gifts and people and there was activity everywhere. This was a good sign. 

They tried station after gas station, but there wasn't an available mechanic to be found. It was Christmas Eve after all; everyone had gone home to family.

At the last station, the truck owner shuffled his feet as he stood near Joe. "Look. I know it ain't much, but you folks can come over to our place. We haven't much, and are filled up with a houseful of guest ourselves. But we have this huge barn out back. There's a kerosene heater out there for the horses and cattle. Our guests will be willing to spare a couple of cots, and it will be quiet - and private. We'll make sure you are warm and well fed." He nodded in Mary's direction, and added more quietly, "She needs to stop for the night. We can't run around looking for hotels at this hour in this weather. We've got a snowstorm coming from the west and we both know all the hotels will be full on Christmas Eve..."

Numb with cold and the weight of the decision; Joe nodded silently.

"Alrighty then," the man punctuated the statement with a strong rap to the top of the cab's roof, "Let's go home."

Dinner was a busy, noisy crowded sensation. The man's family was large and there was a gaggle of siblings, their children, as well as their parents. Fights between bickering cousins were blocked by teenager's earbuds as they lost themselves either texting or online. Adults traded stories and recipes, laughter and tears. Many hands helped in preparing, serving and cleaning up the dinner. There was a whole separate table set up for the kids in the other room, and yet some of the diners had to take their plates over to the living room to find seating there. It was truly a full house.

Before dessert was even served, Mary was exhausted and desperately in need of some quiet. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. While the chill wore off from her fingers and toes, her fingers still held a puffyness that she frowned about. Her middle ACHED. As much as she was grateful for the hospitality, she wanted AWAY from this loud, large, noisy family.

Joe caught the look in her eyes and spoke quietly with their host. He nodded to his wife and she ran upstairs to gather the extra blankets and down-filled quilts as he led them out to the barn. The man's breath plumed in the air as the falling snow hissed around them. "We're setting you folks up in the manger. We normally open up the loft to folks, but in your condition, miss, you ought not go climbing up ladders."

"The MANGER!" Mary responded aghast. "Is that some kind of joke. I know it's Christmas Eve and all, mister, but that's a pretty bad joke."

The man paused mid-step, initially taken aback by her vehement response, blinking owlishly. But only for a moment, then he grinned as understanding dawned. He laughed easily, clearly taking it as though it were a joke on himself. "Oh. Er. No. I think you misunderstand. It's not what you think, miss."

He opened the smaller side door for them and let them enter into the barn. The scents of animals - cows and horses, fresh hay, kerosene and manure - greeted them as they entered. The man snapped the light-switch beside the door and fluorescent lights overhead glowed to life. The kerosene heater on the well-swept rocky outcropping - well away from the hay - did indeed keep the place warm despite the snowstorm outside. 

The man led the guests past a few stalls to an over-sized alcove. There was thick beams of wood floor to ceiling on three sides; the forth side opened wide to the walkway they were on. It was both quite deep and wide, roughly the size of two generously sized stalls. The floor was covered thick with hay, at least a foot deep, deeper in the corners.

"This is our manger. It's where the cows drop their calves and the mares drop their foals. Many folks think of the Nativity scene when they hear the word "manger." They think of a feeding trough. It's not, its a place for birthing. A place where new life begins!"

At that moment his wife came bustling in with some towels and scented guest soap in her arms. Behind her many of the household guests brought the cots, blankets, a folding table and other items that may make them comfortable. Even a small black and white TV with rabbit ear antenna was dragged out. Mary raised a brow at that antediluvian entertainment, much to the chagrin of Joe. He remembered his grandmother had something like that.

After the family saw them settled, they returned to the house to continue their revelries. Joe passed Mary a plate with a slice of apple pie and a warm mug of apple cider. "They seem like nice folks."

"Yeah." Mary said, too tired to hold up her end of the conversation. Still famished despite the fatigue, she popped a piece of pie into her mouth. Then the first contraction hit. *NO!*

Joe noted her panicked look and immediately dropped to her side, "What's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing."

"No. That was something. Damn. If that car didn't break down we would be home by now. Why did we have to head out today! The ride out here was probably too much for you..."

"Damn it, Joe! I said it's ---" Then her water broke, spreading across the bedspread and down her pants legs. She got up to head the toilet, thinking half-awake that her bladder suddenly gave way, but as she stood another contraction hit. She sank to her cot with a panicked look in Joe's direction. "Joe... I... I think it's time."

He took her hand with one of his, while he tried to dial 911 on his cell phone with the other. She reached for the phone. "No! No hospital! I can't afford it! No insurance! I don't want questions! I ... I can't go through all that again! Please..."

Torn with indecision, Joe got up and pulled on his coat. "I'm at least going to notify the family. We have to have some help." In a few moments, he was back with the wife and her sister in tow.

The sister immediately went to work - all business. "Now listen Mary, not only am I an EMT, I'm a midwife. We're not going to force you to go to the hospital - though I strongly suggest that you do." She paused to make sure that sunk in; Mary would not budge on her decision. "Then you need to listen to everything I tell you to do; I'll do my best to make sure you both get through this process. Now first we're going to work on your breathing; you'll need to get that down and under control very soon..."

The night was long and filled with the babble of voices and cries of pain. Cows lowed and horses whinnied in response; they knew instinctively the sounds of childbirth and the labor of love that it was. It was a strange place to deliver a baby, but in a place where other new life also began -- it seemed to be the most fitting place of all.

In the afternoon, Joe sat down beside Mary's cot. She was holding her newborn son up to her breast to feed him, reveling in the newness of it all. The feel of the milk flowing from her, the ache in her middle and birth canal, the rippling of the womb as it started to shrink, the soft warm weight in her arms, the scent of a newborn child - her child. It was all here. It was all real.

Joe kissed her on her forehead and quietly asked, "What will you name him?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, he needs a name. He can't be called 'the baby' when he reaches school or he'll be bullied the rest of his life."

Mary chuckled gently, "I know. I just don't know what to name him. My mind is completely blank. I'm so ... tired .. but a peaceful tired. Y'know what I mean."

Joe stifled a yawn and nodded; it was a long night. "Can I make a suggestion?"

Mary looked up and met his eyes. "Sure, but I can't guarantee I'll use it."

"Deal."  Joe looked away shyly and shuffled his feet and legs in the hay, settling himself more comfortably beside her cot. "My great-grandfather had an old name that ... well, it fits this kid's situation. They called him "Manny" but that was an shortening of his real name."

"Which was?"

"Emmanuel."

Mary watched Joe silently until he looked up at her again. He was serious.

He wasn't making a joke out of the situation. Mary looked away and thought quietly about it.

"It means 'God is with us.'" Joe added. "I just thought after all we've been through, after all you've been through, things still turned out OK. I found you in the city. There was enough money so we can both get by. Even when the car broke down, good people found us. They gave us a ride, helped us out, even gave us a place to stay when we had no where else to go. Even in your stubbornness of not going to the hospital - like you should have - somehow, just SOMEhow, we ended up with a midwife to help you through the delivery. There was even all the stuff you needed for a newborn HERE, because the wife is expecting too. You can't PLAN all this, even if you tried. God IS with us."

"Emmanuel..." Mary said softly, trying the name out as she gazed down at the child suckling at her breast.

The babe opened his eyes at that moment, looked up into Mary's, and smiled a beautiful smile. A trickle of milk dribbled out of his toothless grin.

Mary dabbed it with the corner of a feeding cloth the wife had given her. "Emmanuel."

The baby burbled happily.

Mary smiled with tears welling in her eyes. She looked up at Joe joyously, "I think he likes it. I really think he likes the name. We gotta use it, if he likes it. Not many kids get a say in how they're named. Right?"

Joe just nodded wordlessly and hugged Mary's shoulders.

"Emmanuel." Mary said again, turning to her babe, "God is with us - through it all."

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~ ESA

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Christmas Dragon (Story)

This story was written for verbal storytelling. So please, wrap your fingers around a warm mug, sit back and listen to the storyteller of days gone by...

Who knows the story of the Epiphany? You know, the story of the magi who trekked across the vast, dry desert to bring gifts to the infant Jesus?

Do you remember the three gifts they brought? Gold, frankincense and myrrh.

But what if I told you those were NOT the three gifts they bore with them when they started out on their long journey across the sands...? This is the story about the gift of gold that was presented to the newborn Christ.

Our story begins way back in a time when dragons still freely roamed throughout lands and flew in the skies over Eastern Europe. There was a small village nestled on the banks of a small river at the bottom of a deep valley. The river’s source was this large, clear lake higher in the mountains where a natural dike held back the water and let only a small amount trickle gently down into the valley below.

On this particular day, a young – and rather bored – blue dragon was bent on mischief. He decided to tear down the dike to see how many villagers could scramble out of the path of the impending flash-flood – much like a child who dams a curbside rivulet and then removes the twigs and mud to see how many ants would be swept away.

Unknown to the blue dragon, there was an older golden dragon higher on the mountaintop observing him. The young dragon latched onto the dike with his claws and pulled away large chunks of earth, opening the way to the rush of water. The older dragon sadly shook his huge scaled head, opened his golden wings to the bright afternoon sunlight and dove into crisp mountain air.

Within a heartbeat, he was atop a small hill that rose beside the river above the village. Two graceful bounds brought him to the foot of the hill opposite the river, where the dragon planted his foreclaws into the hillside. He began to push the whole hill toward the river. The river waters started to gurgle louder as the surface quickly reached the limits of the river’s banks. The hill would not budge; even for a mighty dragon, this was an unlikely feat of strength. A dull roar thundered up the valley – growing louder by the second. The dragon strained all the muscles in his body as he tried to will the stone beneath the dirt and tree-cover to move.

Then his sharp hearing then caught the terrified shouts and cries from the village downriver.

The golden dragon cast his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. At once, strength beyond his experience filled his muscles, and with a desperate roar tearing from his throat, he cracked the bedrock and thrust the small hill into the river’s path below.

A large crash thundered along the valley as dirt, rock and tree tumbled into the churning brown water below. Moments later a deafening roar reverberated up the valley as the main body of the flash flood collided with the newly-made dam.

The sudden strength quickly left the golden dragon. He bowed his head elegantly in thanks, then unfurled his wings to take flight. Leaping into the air, he spied the young blue dragon hurtling toward him, seething in anger.

“Why have you done this?” the blue dragon roared, flinging a claw in the direction of the water rising safely behind the new dam.

The golden dragon sighed. He looked at the younger dragon with pity in his great golden orbs and replied, “If you truly wish to learn, follow me and I will share what I know.” With a majestic sweep of his wings, the late afternoon sunlight sparkling golden on his sides, the older dragon flew gracefully toward a ledge high on a mountaintop.

Perplexed, the younger dragon followed silently behind him. At the ledge, the golden dragon perched on the bare rocks and surveyed the valley and village far below. When the blue dragon landed lightly beside him, the older dragon turned his golden gaze to him and said, “Furl your wings and listen to my tale.”

“When I was a young dragon, centuries ago, I lived in the desert far southeast from here. One night, I awoke to discover this brilliant light shinning down into the cave I used as my weir.

"Moving to the cave’s entrance, I discovered the most remarkable stellar light shining down from the heavens. Curious, as I was in those days, I spread my wings and flew out into the clear star-speckled desert sky.

“During this flight, I witnessed a small band of travelers crossing the desert sands. They kept glancing skyward. At first, I believed they heard the wind from my wings, but they always looked toward the same bright star; a star that even outshone the moon’s glow that night.

“Careful not to be seen, I swept closer to observe them better. These were men, wealthy by their standards, and far from home by their appearance and dress. They plodded along on their camels, sure in their path across the dry land.

“My curiosity rose a notch and keeping downwind of their mounts, I landed and quietly approached them. ‘Where are you heading so far from your home?’ I asked them in what I hoped was their language.

“Recognition lit in their eyes at hearing my words, though they and their camels shied away from my luminous gaze. ‘We are going to see the king whose star we have seen in the east,’ one replied, sweeping his arm toward the bright star.

“‘We are bringing gifts to present to him,’ another added as he gestured to the parcels tied to their mounts. My nose detected the frankincense and myrrh, and I could see the shapes of scrolls and books.

“This perplexed me somewhat. ‘Why would you travel so far from home, through cold desert nights and hot, dry desert days on such a long journey to give away your treasures to a newborn child? What will you get in return?’

“This question seemed to puzzle them and they spoke briefly among themselves. Then one turned back to me and replied, ‘These are gifts, not trade goods; we expect nothing in return.’

“‘Nothing!?!’ said I. ‘After you spend all your time, resources and efforts to trek across the desert with treasures to give to a babe you’ve never seen? You expect NOTHING in return?’

“Another of the men paused in thought a moment, perhaps trying to understand my perspective. At last he answered, ‘We may receive the new king’s blessings, His Grace.’

“‘Grace?’ I felt my eyes sparkle in sheer curiosity at this. ‘What is Grace?’

“‘It is the greatest treasure of all,’ came the reply.

“I pondered these words for several moments, my tail trashing through the dry air as it does when I’m deep in new thoughts. Then I wanted to confirm my thoughts. I said to them, ‘Let me see if I understand you. If you give your treasures to this newborn king – the one whose star you follow – he will give you this Grace?’

“‘We believe it to be so,’ one stated as the others nodded in agreement.

“I considered this a moment more and asked, ‘If I also go with my treasure and give it to this child king, could I also receive this Grace?’

“The men paused again to confer among themselves and one replied, ‘We believe there is that possibility as well, though we never considered it a gift your kind ever needed, noble dragon.’

“I rose up on my haunches and responded, ‘If this Grace is truly the greatest gift of all, it is something my kind would also desire to possess. I unfurled my wings ready to take flight and asked, ‘Where can I find this newborn king?’

“One pointed skyward and instructed, ‘Follow the brightest star until it shines straight down upon the dwelling where He is. The child will be found inside.’

“I thanked them and permitted the men and the camels to continue on their journey. When they were a safe distance, I leapt into the star-filled sky. In a few wingstrokes, I was back at my weir where I gathered all the gold I possessed. For surely if this Grace was indeed the greatest treasure of them all, it was worth all that I possessed. With my young arms so burdened, I launched myself skyward. Quickly I overtook the men and their slow-moving camels and continued toward our mutual destination far ahead of them.

“Checking the star’s location often, I found myself approaching a small walled town the humans called Bethlehem. But as I started to descend toward the town, the brilliant starlight sparkled like diamonds along my golden hide. The soldiers on the wall saw my descent and shouted the alarm. As spears, rocks and arrows began to hurtle toward me, I dodged and maneuvered around the missiles. All too quickly, it became obvious that I would have to leave or slaughter the city’s defenders. I decided this quest was not worth the fight. Perhaps this new king did not want dragonkind to have this Grace, I thought sadly.

“As I arced over the town to return to the desert, I felt a gentle tug at the fabric of my very inner self. The newborn king knew I was there. But I could not present my own gifts to Him. I sadly shook my head and winged away from the soldiers and their walled town of Bethlehem.

“Soon I met with the foreign men still out in the desert. I landed lightly downwind of them once again and approached them with the gold still heaped in my arms.

“As I related to them what transpired at Bethlehem, I did not tell them about that strange tug to my inner self or the growing warmth of Love and understanding that seemed affixed deep within me. I did not yet know what this new sensation was.

“At the conclusion of my tale, I placed the gold before the men and requested, ‘Take this gold to the newborn king and tell him it’s my gift to Him.’

“The men fell silent and exchanged glances. One was brave enough to ask, ‘And you seek nothing in return?’

“I shook my head, yearning to depart from them for this strange feeling deep inside me needed quiet contemplation.

“The men looked at the heaps of gold on the ground and at their well-burdened camels. At last, an idea bloomed in the mind of one. ‘Wait yet a moment more, noble dragon. For we can not take all our gifts AND your gift of gold with only the mounts we have. Let me give you my gift to take home with you.’ The man that spoke rapidly emptied his parcels of the scrolls and bound books of wisdom and refilled the sacks with my gift. ‘I will tell the newborn king this is your gift. This,’ he gestured toward the small mountain of knowledge, ‘is my gift to dragonkind.’

“This man knew our kind well, for we forever seek to gain knowledge and wisdom, but I did not understand why he was giving it as a gift. I asked, ‘What do you want in exchange for this knowledge given to my kind?’

“He replied, ‘The same I expected from the newborn king, nothing; it is a gift.’

“‘What about His Grace?’ I asked.

“The man climbed up onto his camel and urged it to rise. Then he met my eyes, and I saw the Wisdom that filled his own. After a moment of silence, he quietly replied, ‘I believe we have both already received that gift from the newborn king.’

“I sat in the open desert for a long time after that, watching the men follow the brilliant star toward Bethlehem. That new feeling deep inside me never left and is still with me today.”

When the golden dragon had finished his remarkable tale, the blue dragon cocked his head in interest. “So then you received this gift of Grace?”

The golden dragon nodded elegantly yet humbly. “You have seen it within my actions today.”

“What about the books and scrolls of wisdom?” asked the blue dragon skeptically. Then he paused and his cobalt eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re Him! You’re the one who brought wisdom and knowledge to all dragonkind!”

“Yes, but I also brought a far greater gift to our kind as well,” responded the golden dragon quietly.

“What?”

“His Grace.”

The expression on the blue dragon’s face showed a blend of skepticism and curiosity. “You can share that gift with others? How could I get some? Where do I have to go for it?”

The golden dragon raised his head to peer wistfully at the first evening star shining on the eastern horizon. “You must be willing to give up what you treasure most to find the greatest treasure of all. Then look deep within yourself. When you are ready to receive it, it will be there.”

The young blue dragon peered at the evening star and with a sigh turned to the golden dragon. “But this newborn king you knew is no longer in this world. It was so long ago and humans do not live as long as our kind. How am I to receive His Grace then?”

The golden dragon looked down at the blue dragon and smiled a broad draconic smile, his golden eyes sparkling with an inner Joy. “Oh, that King still lives. That was only the very beginning of His story. Do as I say and you too will find Him and His Grace.”

Thus concludes the story of the Christmas Dragon and his gift of gold to the newborn Christ.

 ~ESA

Road to Bethlehem (Story)

This story was written last year; I wanted to share it again with my readers in this Season of Hope.

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Road to Bethlehem

The open-backed pickup truck swerved and bounced over the slick, uneven pavement, mercilessly jostling the passengers seated in the back. One of Mary's hands held tight to the side of the truck-bed with a death grip, fingers numb in the icy wind. Her other hand rested on her swollen belly, trying to will peace and comfort to her unborn as she tried to keep curses for travels woes from her mind - in vain. 

Joe looked up across the truck-bed from her. His thin coat wasn't keeping the chill from his bones; it didn't help that the zipper was long since broken. The wind tousled his hair as he reached across and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze over her womb. "Sorry about the car, Mary. Maybe we'll find someone to help fix 'er in the next town."

Mary bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes; damn these hormones! She wanted to rage about the car, the fact that they couldn't afford to get it fixed sooner, the fact that her whole life really sucked right now. Damn it! She was only 17! She should be making plans for the prom, hanging out with her friends after school, and celebrating the holdiay with family. Not this... Not alone...

But she wasn't alone. She had Joe.

Joe wasn't the father of her child; a boy her own age was. But the moment she told him she was pregnant, he dropped her like a rock. Worse, he tarred her reputation - both in school and online. Her friends all told her to get an abortion, but she couldn't. Something inside her soul treasured life too much to kill something. There WAS life inside her; she felt it move, felt the child roll over, knew when it slept. She didn't even know if it was to be a boy or girl. There were no visits to the doctor since the first trimester; there was no insurance to pay for it. Clinics asked too many questions...

Her parents tossed her out soon after the boy dumped her. They called her a slut, a whore. And a lot worse. She went to the local shelter; it was OK the first few days. Then she drew the eyes of some men there. They assumed that if she was already pregnant, it didn't matter; she couldn't conceive twice. And if she was in that position, she must be an "easy girl." She wasn't, but they didn't take "No!" for an answer...

She pushed those memories roughly aside. She had Joe now.

She looked at Joe, studying his features as he watched the winding road ahead. He was older than her, in his late twenties. She was fond of him and found herself fascinated by him.

After the shelter, Mary had wandered from place to place around Philadelphia, looking for a safe place to rest at night and collecting cans from the garbage during the day to earn money for food - a task that grew increasingly difficult as her pregnancy swelled. While she was still living "on the streets" she ran into Joe, who was in town on some business. He offered to take her in and let her stay in his spare bedroom - no strings attached, no questions asked.

And he meant that. He didn't have much himself, just a two-bedroom apartment north of Philadelphia. He cleaned out the second room which was originally used as a improv workshop. He was a woodworker by trade. During the day, he worked as a carpenter with the Allentown union, traveling all over the area on a wide range of construction jobs. When he had some time, though, he loved whittling wood into the most remarkable figurines. Some he would sell through friends at the local flea market, but most were gifts for friends and family. Mary enjoyed the room. It was warm, safe... and now the scent of sawdust and wood shavings brought her comfort.

Another hard bump sent pain shooting up Mary's spine. Damn this road! A shouted apology came from the overcrowded cab of the pickup truck. There were already three people squeezed across the bench seat; the truck owner, his pregnant wife and their small son in a car seat. Thus Mary and Joe had to ride in the back.

Given their age differences, he made no advances on Mary. She was someone in need and he was able to help - somewhat. He had little in savings. His income provided food, clothing, heat and paid the bills, but the car was old and temperamental. While he had health insurance, he could not offer any to Mary. The state would not extend Medicaid unless she divulged her personal information; Mary was adamant that she didn't want to answer all those questions - again! So, despite all his pleadings, there was no doctor to see for the sake of her child and herself. He borrowed several books from the library and they poured over the information in them for hours - together.

"We're here," Joe breathed as he pointed to a sign that read, "Welcome to Bethlehem." Darkness had fallen on the ride and Mary looked through the plumes of exhales as they entered the town. It was decorated for the holiday with many lights and greenery. Cars were piled with gifts and people and there was activity everywhere. This was a good sign.

They tried station after gas station, but there wasn't an available mechanic to be found. It was Christmas Eve after all; everyone had gone home to family. At the last station, the truck owner shuffled his feet as he stood near Joe. "Look. I know it ain't much, but you folks can come over to our place. We haven't much, and are filled up with a houseful of guest ourselves. But we have this huge barn out back. There's a kerosene heater out there for the horses and cattle. Our guests will be willing to spare a couple of cots, and it will be quiet - and private. We'll make sure you are warm and well fed." He nodded in Mary's direction, and added more quietly, "She needs to stop for the night. We can't run around looking for hotels at this hour in this weather. We've got a snowstorm coming from the west and we both know all the hotels will be full on Christmas Eve..."

Numb with cold and the weight of the decision; Joe nodded silently.

"Alrighty then," the man punctuated the statement with a strong rap to the top of the cab's roof, "Let's go home."

Dinner was a busy, noisy crowded sensation. The man's family was large and there was a gaggle of siblings, their children, as well as their parents. Fights between bickering cousins were blocked by teenager's earbuds as they lost themselves either texting or online. Adults traded stories and recipes, laughter and tears. Many hands helped in preparing, serving and cleaning up the dinner. There was a whole separate table set up for the kids in the other room, and yet some of the diners had to take their plates over to the living room to find seating there. It was truly a full house.

Before dessert was even served, Mary was exhausted and desperately in need of some quiet. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. While the chill wore off from her fingers and toes, her fingers still held a puffyness that she frowned about. Her middle ACHED. As much as she was grateful for the hospitality, she wanted AWAY from this loud, large, noisy family.

Joe caught the look in her eyes and spoke quietly with their host. He nodded to his wife and she ran upstairs to gather the extra blankets and down-filled quilts as he led them out to the barn. The man's breath plumed in the air as the falling snow hissed around them. "We're setting you folks up in the manger. We normally open up the loft to folks, but in your condition, miss, you ought not go climbing up ladders."

"The MANGER!" Mary responded aghast. "Is that some kind of joke. I know it's Christmas Eve and all, mister, but that's a pretty bad joke."

The man paused mid-step, initially taken aback by her vehement response, blinking owlishly. But only for a moment, then he grinned as understanding dawned. He laughed easily, clearly taking it as though it were a joke on himself. "Oh. Er. No. I think you misunderstand. It's not what you think, miss."

He opened the smaller side door for them and let them enter into the barn. The scents of animals - cows and horses, fresh hay, kerosene and manure - greeted them as they entered. The man snapped the light-switch beside the door and fluorescent lights overhead glowed to life. The kerosene heater on the well-swept rocky outcropping - well away from the hay - did indeed keep the place warm despite the snowstorm outside.

The man led the guests past a few stalls to an over-sized alcove. There was thick beams of wood floor to ceiling on three sides; the forth side opened wide to the walkway they were on. It was both quite deep and wide, roughly the size of two generously sized stalls. The floor was covered thick with hay, at least a foot deep, deeper in the corners.

"This is our manger. It's where the cows drop their calves and the mares drop their foals. Many folks think of the Nativity scene when they hear the word "manger." They think of a feeding trough. It's not, its a place for birthing. A place where new life begins!"

At that moment his wife came bustling in with some towels and scented guest soap in her arms. Behind her many of the household guests brought the cots, blankets, a folding table and other items that may make them comfortable. Even a small black and white TV with rabbit ear antenna was dragged out. Mary raised a brow at that antediluvian entertainment, much to the chagrin of Joe. He remembered his grandmother had something like that.

After the family saw them settled, they returned to the house to continue their revelries. Joe passed Mary a plate with a slice of apple pie and a warm mug of apple cider. "They seem like nice folks."

"Yeah." Mary said, too tired to hold up her end of the conversation. Still famished despite the fatigue, she popped a piece of pie into her mouth. Then the first contraction hit. *NO!*

Joe noted her panicked look and immediately dropped to her side, "What's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing."

"No. That was something. Damn. If that car didn't break down we would be home by now. Why did we have to head out today! The ride out here was probably too much for you..."

"Damn it, Joe! I said it's ---" Then her water broke, spreading across the bedspread and down her pants legs. She got up to head the toilet, thinking half-awake that her bladder suddenly gave way, but as she stood another contraction hit. She sank to her cot with a panicked look in Joe's direction. "Joe... I... I think it's time."

He took her hand with one of his, while he tried to dial 911 on his cell phone with the other. She reached for the phone. "No! No hospital! I can't afford it! No insurance! I don't want questions! I ... I can't go through all that again! Please..."

Torn with indecision, Joe got up and pulled on his coat. "I'm at least going to notify the family. We have to have some help." In a few moments, he was back with the wife and her sister in tow.

The sister immediately went to work - all business. "Now listen Mary, not only am I an EMT, I'm a midwife. We're not going to force you to go to the hospital - though I strongly suggest that you do." She paused to make sure that sunk in; Mary would not budge on her decision. "Then you need to listen to everything I tell you to do; I'll do my best to make sure you both get through this process. Now first we're going to work on your breathing; you'll need to get that down and under control very soon..."

The night was long and filled with the babble of voices and cries of pain. Cows lowed and horses whinnied in response; they knew instinctively the sounds of childbirth and the labor of love that it was. It was a strange place to deliver a baby, but in a place where other new life also began -- it seemed to be the most fitting place of all.

In the afternoon, Joe sat down beside Mary's cot. She was holding her newborn son up to her breast to feed him, reveling in the newness of it all. The feel of the milk flowing from her, the ache in her middle and birth canal, the rippling of the womb as it started to shrink, the soft warm weight in her arms, the scent of a newborn child - her child. It was all here. It was all real.

Joe kissed her on her forehead and quietly asked, "What will you name him?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, he needs a name. He can't be called 'the baby' when he reaches school or he'll be bullied the rest of his life."

Mary chuckled gently, "I know. I just don't know what to name him. My mind is completely blank. I'm so ... tired .. but a peaceful tired. Y'know what I mean."

Joe stifled a yawn and nodded; it was a long night. "Can I make a suggestion?"

Mary looked up and met his eyes. "Sure, but I can't guarantee I'll use it."

"Deal."  Joe looked away shyly and shuffled his feet and legs in the hay, settling himself more comfortably beside her cot. "My great-grandfather had an old name that ... well, it fits this kid's situation. They called him "Manny" but that was an shortening of his real name."

"Which was?"

"Emmanuel."

Mary watched Joe silently until he looked up at her again. He was serious. He wasn't making a joke out of the situation. Mary looked away and thought quietly about it.

"It means 'God is with us.'" Joe added. "I just thought after all we've been through, after all you've been through, things still turned out OK. I found you in the city. There was enough money so we can both get by. Even when the car broke down, good people found us. They gave us a ride, helped us out, even gave us a place to stay when we had no where else to go. Even in your stubbornness of not going to the hospital - like you should have - somehow, just SOMEhow, we ended up with a midwife to help you through the delivery. There was even all the stuff you needed for a newborn HERE, because the wife is expecting too. You can't PLAN all this, even if you tried. God IS with us."

"Emmanuel..." Mary said softly, trying the name out as she gazed down at the child suckling at her breast.

The babe opened his eyes at that moment, looked up into Mary's, and smiled a beautiful smile. A trickle of milk dribbled out of his toothless grin.

Mary dabbed it with the corner of a feeding cloth the wife had given her. "Emmanuel."

The baby burbled happily.

Mary smiled with tears welling in her eyes. She looked up at Joe joyously, "I think he likes it. I really think he likes the name. We gotta use it, if he likes it. Not many kids get a say in how they're named. Right?"

Joe just nodded wordlessly and hugged Mary's shoulders.

"Emmanuel." Mary said again, turning to her babe, "God is with us - through it all."

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~ ESA

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