years ago i wrote a series of short stories for christmas. i recently cam across those stories again and felt inspired to share them with all of you!
In this nation of all nationalities our celebration of Christmas is a celebration of the human spirit. The values of Hope, Peace, and Love are universal regardless of our language or faith. The need for Comfort drives us to succeed. The power of Dreams ignites us all with a passion to achieve. Christmas is more than a religious celebration. It is a jubilee of our American Dream, a commemoration of the Beauty of Humanity.
Abasi Fahima fled her homeland in East Africa to find peace. Her husband and his family had been lost to the rebels. She and her two children, daughter Adimu and son Makamu, were lucky to be alive. Their entire village left to the refugee camps. One morning the village elder came to their tent. He explained to Fahima and her children that the night had passed with many dreams about them. He saw them united, traveling to far away lands finding safety, peace and hope. Then he gave them the statue that he had carved for them. Three days passed and word came that Fahima, Adimu and Makamu would be granted passage to America. Today that statue is all that they have from their homeland. It remains forever, a symbol of hope in this new world.
The bells rang out over the city like the sweet sound of home, a new home for Djawida Isulah. She came from the war torn region of the Middle East seeking a chance to find a better life. Her faith had guided her through so much but her family had always been her constant support. Just before leaving on her voyage to new opportunities Djawida’s mother gave her a precious family heirloom, a bell. This bell had been passed on from generation to generation a symbol of strength and the power of the dream. Djawida had come to America to better herself, her family, her people, the world. She would never forget the words her mother spoke to her, “Let your voice ring out like this bell. Let it be a voice of inspiration and faith. Let it be the voice of your dreams.”
Tears rolled down Piotr’s face as he listened to the sweet melody of the tiny music box. It brought him back more than 50 years to his home in Poland. Piotr Mojzuk was a musician like his father before him. He had been educated in the best music conservatories in the nation and was a gifted artist. Music was his salvation. In 1940 Piotr was one of the last to flee Nazi occupied Poland. His parents had tried all that they could but were only able to secure Piotr’s passage to freedom. He took one last look at his loving family and was forced to board the train. As the train pulled away he could not take his eyes from his beloved father’s gaze. Then he heard something in his bag, it was the music box. It played the first waltz Piotr had ever learned, The Blue Danube. Today that melody is the song of peace for Piotr.
Growing up at the tops of the Andes can make one strong and brave but poverty breaks through all lines. Saúl Marcial de Paloma was born to a poor, struggling ranch family in Peru. They had nothing but each other and the joy they found together. One year the ranches were not doing so well and Saúl’s father lost his job. Saúl was only twelve when his father asked him to join him on a dangerous journey. They were going to leave their home in the mountains and travel to America, where work was abundant. Saúl’s father had faith that they would return soon to their family. The young boy packed his bag and before he walked out the door turned to his mother. She beckoned him to come closer. They embraced and she handed him a tiny hand-made lama, it was a but toy yet meant so much. “Remember where you come from, mijo.” Saúl left his difficult life to another life more dangerous, all to find comfort for his loved ones.
Tasanee “Song” Paterson stared lovingly at her husband’s blue eyes. They had been married nearly 35 years and this year was special, for the first time the happy couple had gone back to Thailand to visit Song’s family. It was a happy time but a sad time as well. Song’s eldest sister was dying. Song and her sister, Nueng were like twins growing up. This final encounter was a chance for the girls to smile together again. During their visit Song spent her days caring for her number one sister. Her Thai had become rusty but the emotion and love was still there. They spoke as if not a single day had separated them. On Song’s last day with her family Nueng handed her a beautiful box with a lucky elephant on the top. Inside the box were souvenirs of their youth; dried flowers, hand-made toys, and a photo of the man that brought Song to America. Nueng left this world with a blessing on her sister, “May our love be your gift to all those you meet, wherever you may find them.”