Magi's Gift (Story)

This is inspired by one of my favorite Christmas stories, "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, written in 1906. Times have changed, some situations have not, and Love endures for generations.
Merry Christmas!
~ ESA

Tom and Betty lived with their two daughters in a small Pennsylvania town of Simpson. When they both had jobs, life was grand. They had a little money for a family vacation to the lake, enough to cover the gas on the ATV and even a weekly family walk down the road to McGee's for some ice cream each Sunday.

This year, however, wasn't such a good year. Tom lost his job and increases in rent, gas, food and utilities pinched hard. They didn't have the funds to cover the girl's school pictures in September. It was now December and Christmas was around the corner. They scraped up enough to get the girls a little something, but they were both at a loss of what to get for each other.

An idea blossomed for Betty at one of the firehouse fundraisers. Another volunteer, old Mick, was retiring and looking to sell his light bar. "That would look awesome on Tom's truck!" she exclaimed. "How much?"

Mick shuffled his feet and looked away a moment. The family's finances were no secret in this small town. "I'll be honest with you Betty," he replied once more meeting her gaze. "It cost me a pretty penny. And now that Elizabeth and I are retired, we need the money too. I know I can get at least $150 for it online or at the flea market..."

Betty's face fell.

At the look on her face, Mick's heart gave way to an idea. "Look, Betty. I'll make you a deal. I'll keep it out back until Christmas day. If you somehow get the money, it's yours. If not, I can wait until the New Year to sell it."

Betty was hesitant. But it would look so fine on Tom's pick-up truck. He never missed a call... "OK, Mick" she agreed with a sharp nod. Betty extended her hand; a handshake with your word was as good as a signed contract in this area.

Mick shook her hand with a small smile. "I'll keep you in my prayers, too, Betty. I know Tom would love to have it for his truck."

When Betty got home after the fundraiser, she hurried to her sock drawer and counted out the remainder of the money she saved all year... just shy of $50. "Where am I going to get the rest of the money?" she asked the sober reflection in the mirror.

The next day was Sunday, and following tradition, the family bundled up after Church and walked down the Main Street that afternoon. While McGee's was closed for the season, they still walked down that road, looking in shop windows along the way. Part of the tradition was a stop at the local pawn shop.

Each week, the family would gather around the "new arrivals" case and try to guess which one of their neighbors had previously owned the items.

"Hey, Mom, that look's like Aunt Christine's locket," one the girls cried pointing to a tarnished locket at the back of the case.

Immediately Betty was there, with her warm breath fogging the glass. She brusquely wiped aside the fog with her sleeve and peered again. "It... it IS her locket..." She turned to Tom with tears welling in her eyes, "That's my great-grandma's locket. Christine got it when Mom died and I got the chain that went with it."

She brushed aside the tears as she turned to face the locket again. There it sat, sad and silent in a case, disembodied from the family. Her great-grandmother's picture faded under the case's lights.

Without thinking, Betty hurried to the shop owner. "That locket in your case, how much?"

The man turned with a knowing look on his face. "That there's a genuine family heirloom. Your own family, if I don't know any better. Your sister turned it in this past week. Said she needed the money more."

"I know where it came from. How much?"

A devilish grin turned the corners of his mouth, but a smile never touched his eyes. "I was planning to e-Bay that piece when I got the time to take the digital photos. If I can get the historical documents, it can fetch me a pretty penny for any who deal with antiques such as these... Perhaps I can find a buyer from Philadelphia... Or a museum or such in New York..."

Frustrated as she knew the price would be too much for their meager income, she turned away without the answer. Tom embraced her shoulders in his strong arm and ushered their two girls from the store in silence.

When Betty went to work on Monday, Tom walked back to the pawn shop and approached the man. "OK. You know what I'm here for. How much do you want for it?"

The man smiled from behind the counter. "Twenty bucks will take it off display for thirty days. I can not guarantee that I'll hold it any longer than that."

"What is your asking price?" Tom pressed, all business.

"You really can't afford it, Tom. I know you're out of work."

"Spit it out."

"Seven hundred dollars."

"Bull."

"I can get more at an auction."

"You can't and we both know it. This isn't Betty who's talking to you now."

The man hesitated and shuffled his feet a moment. Then he quickly regained his poise, looked Tom in the eye, "Five hundred."

The bartering began. In the end, Tom shook the man's hand at the final agreement.

Betty had not been inactive that week, herself. She smuggled many of her little treasures into work and sold them to co-workers during the lunch break. She counted the money that Saturday: $105. She needed forty-five dollars more. "Where will I get forty-five bucks more with Christmas in three days?" she asked the woman in the mirror.

Then her eyes fell to the antique chain that was once owned by her great-grandmother. She never forgot that her sister had sold away the matching locket. It disappeared from the case right after that. "He made good on his word," she muttered to the woman in the mirror. "It's long gone."

Gingerly, she picked up the gold necklace. "What good is the chain without its locket?" she asked the sad face in the mirror. "If I get the light bar for Tom's truck, it will keep him safe when he races off like a madman for each call..." She slipped the chain in her pocket.

The next day, she drove down Route 6 to the local flea market before Church and found a buyer for the necklace, eagerly accepting $50 for it.

On the way back, she swung by the Old Mick's house and handed him the full $150 in cash. He stared at it as if he held a miracle in his hands. "I don't know how you did it, Betty. I really don't. But I couldn't be happier to sell it to you and Tom. I know he'll take good care of it for me."

"Do me a favor, Mick. Tom will be out with the girls Christmas Eve to walk around downtown Carbondale and look at the lights. It's when I wrap up the girl's gifts. Can you swing by the house around seven and drop off the light bar then? We can tuck it into the shed out back until Christmas morning. The kids and Tom will be so surprised!"

Mick's face lit up in a grand mischievous smile. "Of course, I can do that for old friends, Betty." They shook hands and then he pulled her into a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, Betty. Merry Christmas."

Christmas morning, dawned bright. In fact, by dawn the girls had already unwrapped the treasures found under the tree and were happily playing with their new gifts, meager though they were.

Betty was in the kitchen surrounded by the sounds and scents of brewing coffee and cooking pancakes. There was no bacon this year, but it didn't matter. There was a house full of Love and Joy this morning. And there was a surprise outside in the shed.

Her hand paused in flipping the pancakes when she heard the truck start up outside. She didn't recall hearing the alarm from the dispatch on the fire-fighter's scanner...

She removed the pan from the heat and stepped through the doorway into the small living room. Shock numbed her as she saw Tom standing there at the front door and the truck -- his TRUCK -- was driving away.

Tom stood for a moment more as he sadly watched the truck drive down the road and disappear onto Main Street. Then he turned toward Betty and wordless extended a small package - beautifully wrapped - toward her. "Merry Christmas, Betty. I know this means the world to you..."

She set down the cooling pan on a plate and accepted the package in shaking hands. "What... What's in it?"

Tom gave her a loving smile and hugged her shoulders, "Why don't you open it and find out, silly?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she undid the ribbon and tore open the wrapping paper. The girls gathered around curiously. There in the box lay her great-grandmother's locket. It shone in the lights of the Christmas tree beside them.

She turned in Tom's arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh TOM! You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have! We can't afford this!"

"I know we didn't have the money, Betty. So I traded my old truck for it. I just got job at the local factory up the street and I can walk there. It won't pay much, but at least we won't have to pay for that old truck... And Billie next door said he'll take me with him on the fire calls, so all will be OK. Trust me... we'll be OK."

She pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked into his loving eyes. There was such a question on his face that she only knew one way to answer. Wordlessly, she gently took his hand, led him through the kitchen and out the back door.

Standing in snow up to their calves, she gestured toward the shed. He could see from the imprint in the snow that someone had opened the shed door recently; the door's arc and footprints were clear in the snow.

Curious, he opened the door... 

Inside was Old Mick's light bar, polished and shining, complete with a bright red bow on the top of it. Tom's head hung down wordlessly as he tried to take it in. Here was a gift he cherished, moreso as it came from an old friend who worked with him through countless calls over the years. Now it was his, to ride atop a truck... that he no longer owned.

He quietly closed the shed door and turned toward Betty. With shining eyes he asked, "How?" 

Betty started sobbing again, hands clenched around the box and it's precious locket inside. "I... I sold a few of my things, Tom...  ...including my great-grandmother's chain. I... I thought that old coot had sold the locket away and we'd never see it again. So I... I sold it at the flea market."

Tom swept his wife into a fierce embrace. "I love you Betty. I love you so much. Here we are a couple of fools trying to get the best gifts we could for each other. I can't ask for a better gift on Christmas than having you for a wife."

Betty hugged him back, equally fierce. "I love you too, Tom, so very much. We ARE a pair of fools, but we've got our girls and each other. I couldn't ask for anything else this Christmas."

Arm-in-arm, they walked back to the back door. Smiling once again in the glow of their mutual love. Inside, two girls peeked out through the kitchen window, wondering what was going on.

There was still The Christmas Story to read, and other stories to tell. This would be one too, to be shared for generations to come.

Magi's Gift (Story)

This is inspired by one of my favorite Christmas stories, "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, written in 1906. Times have changed, some situations have not, and Love endures for generations.

Tom and Betty lived with their two daughters in a small Pennsylvania town of Simpson. When they both had jobs, life was grand. They had a little money for a family vacation to the lake, enough to cover the gas on the ATV and even a weekly family walk down the road to McGee's for some ice cream each Sunday.

This year, however, wasn't such a good year. Tom lost his job and increases in rent, gas, food and utilities pinched hard. They didn't have the funds to cover the girl's school pictures in September. It was now December and Christmas was around the corner. They scraped up enough to get the girls a little something, but they were both at a loss of what to get for each other.

An idea blossomed for Betty at one of the firehouse fundraisers. Another volunteer, old Mick, was retiring and looking to sell his light bar. "That would look awesome on Tom's truck!" she exclaimed. "How much?"

Mick shuffled his feet and looked away a moment. The family's finances were no secret in this small town. "I'll be honest with you Betty," he replied once more meeting her gaze. "It cost me a pretty penny. And now that Elizabeth and I are retired, we need the money too. I know I can get at least $150 for it online or at the flea market..."

Betty's face fell.

At the look on her face, Mick's heart gave way to an idea. "Look, Betty. I'll make you a deal. I'll keep it out back until Christmas day. If you somehow get the money, it's yours. If not, I can wait until the New Year to sell it."

Betty was hesitant. But it would look so fine on Tom's pick-up truck. He never missed a call... "OK, Mick" she agreed with a sharp nod. Betty extended her hand; a handshake with your word was as good as a signed contract in this area.

Mick shook her hand with a small smile. "I'll keep you in my prayers, too, Betty. I know Tom would love to have it for his truck."

When Betty got home after the fundraiser, she hurried to her sock drawer and counted out the remainder of the money she saved all year... just shy of $50. "Where am I going to get the rest of the money?" she asked the sober reflection in the mirror.

The next day was Sunday, and following tradition, the family bundled up after Church and walked down the Main Street that afternoon. While McGee's was closed for the season, they still walked down that road, looking in shop windows along the way. Part of the tradition was a stop at the local pawn shop.

Each week, the family would gather around the "new arrivals" case and try to guess which one of their neighbors had previously owned the items.

"Hey, Mom, that look's like Aunt Christine's locket," one the girls cried pointing to a tarnished locket at the back of the case.

Immediately Betty was there, with her warm breath fogging the glass. She brusquely wiped aside the fog with her sleeve and peered again. "It... it IS her locket..." She turned to Tom with tears welling in her eyes, "That's my great-grandma's locket. Christine got it when Mom died and I got the chain that went with it."

She brushed aside the tears as she turned to face the locket again. There it sat, sad and silent in a case, disembodied from the family. Her great-grandmother's picture faded under the case's lights.

Without thinking, Betty hurried to the shop owner. "That locket in your case, how much?"

The man turned with a knowing look on his face. "That there's a genuine family heirloom. Your own family, if I don't know any better. Your sister turned it in this past week. Said she needed the money more."

"I know where it came from. How much?"

A devilish grin turned the corners of his mouth, but a smile never touched his eyes. "I was planning to e-Bay that piece when I got the time to take the digital photos. If I can get the historical documents, it can fetch me a pretty penny for any who deal with antiques such as these... Perhaps I can find a buyer from Philadelphia... Or a museum or such in New York..."

Frustrated as she knew the price would be too much for their meager income, she turned away without the answer. Tom embraced her shoulders in his strong arm and ushered their two girls from the store in silence.

When Betty went to work on Monday, Tom walked back to the pawn shop and approached the man. "OK. You know what I'm here for. How much do you want for it?"

The man smiled from behind the counter. "Twenty bucks will take it off display for thirty days. I can not guarantee that I'll hold it any longer than that."

"What is your asking price?" Tom pressed, all business.

"You really can't afford it, Tom. I know you're out of work."

"Spit it out."

"Seven hundred dollars."

"Bull."

"I can get more at an auction."

"You can't and we both know it. This isn't Betty who's talking to you now."

The man hesitated and shuffled his feet a moment. Then he quickly regained his poise, looked Tom in the eye, "Five hundred."

The bartering began. In the end, Tom shook the man's hand at the final agreement.

Betty had not been inactive that week, herself. She smuggled many of her little treasures into work and sold them to co-workers during the lunch break. She counted the money that Saturday: $105. She needed forty-five dollars more. "Where will I get forty-five bucks more with Christmas in three days?" she asked the woman in the mirror.

Then her eyes fell to the antique chain that was once owned by her great-grandmother. She never forgot that her sister had sold away the matching locket. It disappeared from the case right after that. "He made good on his word," she muttered to the woman in the mirror. "It's long gone."

Gingerly, she picked up the gold necklace. "What good is the chain without its locket?" she asked the sad face in the mirror. "If I get the light bar for Tom's truck, it will keep him safe when he races off like a madman for each call..." She slipped the chain in her pocket.

The next day, she drove down Route 6 to the local flea market before Church and found a buyer for the necklace, eagerly accepting $50 for it.

On the way back, she swung by the Old Mick's house and handed him the full $150 in cash. He stared at it as if he held a miracle in his hands. "I don't know how you did it, Betty. I really don't. But I couldn't be happier to sell it to you and Tom. I know he'll take good care of it for me."

"Do me a favor, Mick. Tom will be out with the girls Christmas Eve to walk around downtown Carbondale and look at the lights. It's when I wrap up the girl's gifts. Can you swing by the house around seven and drop off the light bar then? We can tuck it into the shed out back until Christmas morning. The kids and Tom will be so surprised!"

Mick's face lit up in a grand mischievous smile. "Of course, I can do that for old friends, Betty." They shook hands and then he pulled her into a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, Betty. Merry Christmas."

Christmas morning, dawned bright. In fact, by dawn the girls had already unwrapped the treasures found under the tree and were happily playing with their new gifts, meager though they were.

Betty was in the kitchen surrounded by the sounds and scents of brewing coffee and cooking pancakes. There was no bacon this year, but it didn't matter. There was a house full of Love and Joy this morning. And there was a surprise outside in the shed.

Her hand paused in flipping the pancakes when she heard the truck start up outside. She didn't recall hearing the alarm from the dispatch on the fire-fighter's scanner...

She removed the pan from the heat and stepped through the doorway into the small living room. Shock numbed her as she saw Tom standing there at the front door and the truck -- his TRUCK -- was driving away.

Tom stood for a moment more as he sadly watched the truck drive down the road and disappear onto Main Street. Then he turned toward Betty and wordless extended a small package - beautifully wrapped - toward her. "Merry Christmas, Betty. I know this means the world to you..."

She set down the cooling pan on a plate and accepted the package in shaking hands. "What... What's in it?"

Tom gave her a loving smile and hugged her shoulders, "Why don't you open it and find out, silly?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she undid the ribbon and tore open the wrapping paper. The girls gathered around curiously. There in the box lay her great-grandmother's locket. It shone in the lights of the Christmas tree beside them.

She turned in Tom's arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh TOM! You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have! We can't afford this!"

"I know we didn't have the money, Betty. So I traded my old truck for it. I just got job at the local factory up the street and I can walk there. It won't pay much, but at least we won't have to pay for that old truck... And Billie next door said he'll take me with him on the fire calls, so all will be OK. Trust me... we'll be OK."

She pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked into his loving eyes. There was such a question on his face that she only knew one way to answer. Wordlessly, she gently took his hand, led him through the kitchen and out the back door.

Standing in snow up to their calves, she gestured toward the shed. He could see from the imprint in the snow that someone had opened the shed door recently; the door's arc and footprints were clear in the snow.

Curious, he opened the door... 

Inside was Old Mick's light bar, polished and shining, complete with a bright red bow on the top of it. Tom's head hung down wordlessly as he tried to take it in. Here was a gift he cherished, moreso as it came from an old friend who worked with him through countless calls over the years. Now it was his, to ride atop a truck... that he no longer owned.

He quietly closed the shed door and turned toward Betty. With shining eyes he asked, "How?" 

Betty started sobbing again, hands clenched around the box and it's precious locket inside. "I... I sold a few of my things, Tom...  ...including my great-grandmother's chain. I... I thought that old coot had sold the locket away and we'd never see it again. So I... I sold it at the flea market."

Tom swept his wife into a fierce embrace. "I love you Betty. I love you so much. Here we are a couple of fools trying to get the best gifts we could for each other. I can't ask for a better gift on Christmas than having you for a wife."

Betty hugged him back, equally fierce. "I love you too, Tom, so very much. We ARE a pair of fools, but we've got our girls and each other. I couldn't ask for anything else this Christmas."

Arm-in-arm, they walked back to the back door. Smiling once again in the glow of their mutual love. Inside, two girls peeked out through the kitchen window, wondering what was going on.

There was still The Christmas Story to read, and other stories to tell. This would be one too, to be shared for generations to come.

Merry Christmas!

~ESA

The Christmas Dragon (Story)

© 1993, 1996, 2003, 2008

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? And we 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.

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 as he 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 know, follow me.”

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.

“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 far 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 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 too part 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 posses. 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 lightly landed 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 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 story, the blue dragon cocked his head in interest. “So then you received this gift of Grace?”

The golden dragon nodded elegantly. “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 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