The cub sat in a quiet corner of the grand hall of the den
watching the play of starlight on the trees and snow beyond.
The holidays were fast upon time
and while most in the den had written their holiday wishes upon their hearts
the cub was still searching for the perfect holiday wish.
So many so much wiser, having all the right words –
what gift could she hope to form that would not seem small and trivial
or that was not already written.
The cub had come upon the den while wandering, not really searching for a place,
and had found a warm welcome and love as was hard to find in the world beyond,
and so little was asked in return – only that she care.
Care she understood – that was easy.
Reaching out to offer care to others was a given, for she understood their pain
– she could feel it, see the colors it painted upon their souls
and knew some of how to ease those colors.
Perhaps her wish could be care?
But all in the den knew how to care
– that would not do she thought – no – it must be a special gift.
She allowed her mind to wander, the wonders she had seen
– could she wish them joy?
No, they knew joy – it came in fur and feathers and scales and fins,
with cold noses and wet sloppy kisses.
Perhaps she could wish them love?
No, all knew great love past and within the den
– and shared that love freely with all who needed.
Should she perhaps wish them Hope?
No that would not do – for hope was the soft warm light that lit the den.
As night gave way to dawn the light broke upon the snow
filling the den with millions of tiny rainbows
– beautiful symbols of all the den held dear.
Slowly an idea blossomed. I know my wish the cub smiled.
(c) Candace
The Garden Christmas
The gardener sat near the small garden waiting for the angel,
as she approached he looked up at her and an amused smile lit his face.
“What is so amusing?” the angel asked as she drew close.
“They each have bits of the truth and cannot seem to see they all fit together.
The grand picture is right there and they simply cannot see.”
The gardener’s smile only seemed more amused by her remark.
“Watch,” he said quietly. “They don’t put it together as one single truth,
but look at the beautiful tapestry they weave as they cling to different aspects of the truth.
It is so much richer this way”
With that they settled in to watch over the small garden in companionable silence.
The winter holidays are magical in the garden
– while much of the world trembles with the cold
and sleeps when the snow blankets all in white stardust
the garden radiates with a magical warmth.
The year was drawing rapidly to a close, and the garden was alive with excitement.
The Halfling curled up contentedly beneath the shelter of the plant and watched.
Because the garden welcomed all from so many different places
there were many traditions to be honored during the winter holidays
– but all were shared by all for it is the season of love and peace.
The Halfling giggled as the butterfly hurried past,
the plant looked her way and wondered at her amusement.
“It is Butterfly” she replied, and pointed as the small butterfly hurried about
trying to capture lights for her celebration.
The plant smiled, "the celebration of lights is the way of those where Butterfly is from.
Butterfly celebrates the festival of lights,” the plant explained,
“when a light that should have extinguished burned for 8 days and nights.
It was a time of great danger and the light gave them hope.
Would you like to hear of the many beliefs shared here in the garden?”
The Halfling nodded, listening to the plant was to her always a special time.
She curled up under the plant’s protection,
content as the plant spun wondrous pictures to fill her mind with new beliefs
so she might understand others.
“I do not need to tell you of those who celebrate the birth as those where you are from do
but perhaps the rest would like to know of the Tears of the Faeries” the plant said quietly.
The Halfling put her hand to the tiny stone cross on a silver chain she wore about her neck.
It seemed hard to believe that anyone did not know of the Tears of the Faeries
– how when the baby whose birth was celebrated during the winter holidays
died as a young man the faerie folk had wept and their tears had formed tiny crosses of stone when they touched the earth.
How the cross was a symbol for why he was born and how he died.
She considered the many beliefs she knew little of and nodded
– it was a beautiful tale to her heart and she was happy to share it.
The Halfling and the plant passed the day watching others hurry about making their preperations
and each belief and tradition seemed to add yet another layer of beauty and love.
The Halfling wondered at the way each belief could be so different
yet each still seemed to weave into the magic of the season effortlessly.
She wondered aloud that perhaps it was that all beliefs were part of the truth
and perhaps sharing was the key to seeing the truth.
As the day drew to a close the Halfling watched as the snow wrapped the garden in a pristine blanket of stardust.
So many different wonderful ways to celebrate peace and love in the still beauty of winter,
so many beautiful beliefs.
As she watched the beauty of the winter night
a winter miracle unfolded before her.
The very stars in the deep velvety sky began to shift
– joining together in an enchanted dance
singing ever so softly the secrets of the universe.
As they danced and sang the music began to swell and soar
until it felt it had lifted the Halfling’s soul to the very heights of heaven itself.
As the music drifted off into a dream the Halfling’s consciousness floated back into herself
and she found herself again sheltered under the plant’s protective canopy.
“What a lovely dream” she thought to herself as she yawned and stretched sleepily.
As she looked about the garden the plant smiled knowingly,
for the Winter Holidays were a time of wonders.
As she watched the stars finished their dance and settled across the garden
like a lace blanket illuminating the magic that is the small garden.
