The Gift
(by Jo Anzalone December 27, 1965...another children's story)
He knew his way through these hills. A huge rock lay five paces left;
so his small
sandaled feet made a short detour. Twelve paces more brought him to the steep edge
of a ravine. He halted. Two steps to the right and there would be a narrow path down
the slope. Yes, he knew his way well. All nine years of his life he had walked among
these hills. His sightless eyes had never seen the swells and dips of the land, but daily
his feet had felt every curve of path, every hump of hill, and this familiarity let him
stride fearlessly where he willed.
His name was David...because he dwelled near Bethlehem, the City of
David. His
father was a shepherd, tending flocks in the surrounding hills. Having no mother and
no reason, thus, to dwell in the small town, David had grown up in the hills with his
father. His ways were the ways of shepherds for a thousand years. As his feet knew the
hills, his ears and hands knew the sheep. He could tell by its bleat which of the many
sheep was lost or in some trouble, and could follow the sound until the sheep was found.
His hands had picked many burrs and thorns from wooly sides and had comforted many
a newborn lamb. The flocks knew David and trusted him. They had been known to
follow him through dangers where they had hesitated behind other shepherds.
David owned only one thing other than the clothes he wore and the staff
he carried.
This possession was a small lamb his father had set aside to be David's own. On cold
nights the lamb would sleep between the curve of David's knees as he lay beside the fire.
David talked to the lamb and shared the secrets of his heart with the tiny animal. Some-
times he would sit on a slope with the whole wide canopy of stars stretching above him
and sing the shepherd songs that another young David, long ago, had sung. David did not
know about the stars, however. All he knew of night was of the cooler air against his
cheek and that the time for fires was come...fires for warmth and to keep wolves from
coming too near, not fires for light. There was no light in David's life other than that
which dwelt in his heart when his father's big hand rested gently on David's shoulder or
when the lamb hurried after him as he set out for the day's labors. The lamb, indeed,
was the bringer of much light to David's life. He could not take a step without hearing a
sudden bleat behind him and a mad scramble of four little hooves over the rocks. Where
he went, the lamb went; where he rested, the lamb rested. There was a companionship
between the two, and the presence of one comforted the other.
David liked to go off, accompanied only by his lamb, and sit silently
somewhere
listening to the sounds of the night. It was while he was sitting thus one night that he
heard his father's voice crying his name urgently. "David!" The call rang over the hills.
David stood up, listened a brief moment, then ran rapidly in the direction of the voice.
He reached his father's side before he realized the lamb was not behind him.
"My lamb..." David started, but his father said, "Never mind the lamb for the present,
my son. He will come as always. But, now, let me tell you what has happened while you
were far away in the hills. A great star is shining over Bethlehem and angels have come
unto us and told us we shall find a babe lying in a manger below the light of this star.
This babe will be the King of the Jews, for whom we have waited so long. My heart has
never been so filled with wonder and joy as tonight! Come, my son. We shall go into
Bethlehem with the other shepherds and find this babe, this long-hoped for King."
David was confused. "A star...?" he murmured. His father hurried him
along
toward the town. "A star...?" David's father, in his haste, had never thought that David
did not know what light was, much less have knowledge of stars. David, being pulled
rapidly down the rocky trail, had no idea of the purpose of this expedition. His ears were
tuned for the sound of a familiar bleat, but no such sound greeted his anxious listening.
Ahead of him he heard a low sound from a cow, and the smell of hay reached his nose.
His father's steps slowed, halted. "We are nearly there, my son."
"Father, it has the sound of a stable. Why are we stopping here?"
"Yes, son. It is a stable, but the light from the star shines directly
upon it, and it is
here we will stop."
David's feet did not know where to step. He had never before been in
this place. He
clung to his father's hand and stumbled after him as best he could. That large hand was
the only harbor the confused seas of his mind could find. He nearly fell, but that hand
held him up and guided him on. That hand. David concentrated his whole being on that
one steady hand. In all the whole dark world there was only that hand.
They entered a narrow doorway together and suddenly the hand was gone.
David's
father had clasped his hands before him and fallen on his knees in worship. David stood
alone in his darkness, and his heart trembled within him. His small hand reached out,
seeking his father's. Instead, it touched his father's bowed head. David did not under-
stand why his proud father was bowing. "Father...," the word quivered off his lips.
David's father looked up, put an arm around his son's small shoulders, and stepped back
into the shadows. Quietly he explained about the babe and the prophecy. A glimmer of understanding began to calm David's confusion. So this little baby was to be his King.
He, David, was here with the King! His boyish heart grew greatly excited.
The sound of camels entered the stable. David listened. There were
murmuring
voices, the rustle of materials, then footsteps on the earthen floor. Heavy boxes were
set down across the room.
"What is it, Father?"
"I am not sure who these men are, my son, but they are from far away
and are
richly dressed. They come bringing gifts to the babe, and they, too, now kneel before
him."
A woman's voice reached David's ears. A lovely voice, a voice of
gentleness. She was
singing a lullaby, a soft, tender lullaby. David had not had a mother he could remember,
and some deep longing inside him responded to this woman's voice. He felt an unfulfilled yearning swelling all through his being. He wanted to go to this woman. Suddenly he remembered who she was. She was not just a woman, not even just a very lovely woman.
She was the mother of the King! He stepped back. A lowly shepherd boy should not go
too near. But the lullaby went on, and David wanted so terribly to come closer. Then he remembered the gifts the strange men had brought. Perhaps if he, too, had a gift, he
could come close and lay it near the child and his mother. A gift! That was it! He had to
get a gift! His heart leaped up in joy, and while his father knelt once again in worship,
a pair of tiny sandaled feet slipped unnoticed from the stable and ran awkwardly up the unfamiliar path. A gift! A gift!
He stopped beside a wall, a smile on his face. He would be so happy
when he gave
his gift to the King. And the King would be happy, too, and the mother might even let
him touch her hand! As David thought about these pleasant things, he suddenly realized
he had no gift to give the King. No gift at all! He owned nothing but his clothes and his
staff and his lamb. His lamb! He had forgotten his lamb, and it was alone somewhere in
the hills! Perhaps the wolves had gotten it! Perhaps it had fallen into the ravine! David
ran toward the hills. He tripped and twisted his knee. The pain was sharp, but he picked
himself up and limped hurriedly on. He breathed heavily from the uphill climb. The
night air was cold against his face. On and on he went. His heart was so upset and his
mind so confused that somehow he lost his way. A thorn bush ripped through his robe
and tore at his leg. His side slammed hard against a rock he should have known was
there. His throat was dry and breathing hurt. A vine wrapped about his ankle and David
fell to the earth. He was lost. He lay where he fell; his only movement the heavy rising
and falling of his chest. His hands clenched in the dirt. His whole body ached. Sharp
pain stabbed through his knee. His heart ached every bit as much as his body. Not only
did he have no gift to give the King, but his lamb was probably dead and he himself was
lost and alone in the darkness and wilderness.
There was a rustle near him, and a dry sob of sheer terror wracked his
body. The
word "wolves" shot through his brain and turned his body to ice. A very forlorn little
bleat came from a bush. David's mind, paralyzed with fright, did not immediately hear
it. Gradually the sound penetrated his consciousness. He turned his head to one side.
There...the sound came again. "Baaaaaaa." It was his lamb! With great effort he rose
to his knees, then stood shakily on his feet. Painfully, he followed the sound and found
the lamb completely tangled in a thick bush. It took much work and many scratches,
but at last the little animal was freed and clasped in David's arms. Pressing the white
head to his cheek, David said softly, "Oh, little lamb, I thought never to hold you again.
How frightened you must have been! But I am here now and all is well...all is well."
Thus he calmed the lamb, and in so doing, calmed himself.
He found a large stone nearby. A familiar, well-known stone that set
him on the path,
which he slowly followed toward Bethlehem. On the way he talked to the lamb. "What
can I give the King?. I have nothing but you, and though you are so important to me, a
King would have no use for you." David decided, though, that maybe the King would
understand and not be mad if given a well-loved little lamb. Wasn't the King a little
boy, too? Surely he would understand!
By the time David neared the stable he was utterly exhausted. His face
and clothes
were covered with dirt. His robe was torn and matted with burrs. His side ached, and
his knee was agony. But, clutching the lamb, he stumbled on through the night. His
mind was so tired it was only vaguely aware of what his body was doing. His awareness
was centered on the little bundle of wool in his arms. Some instinct led him to the right
doorway. He walked inside, crossed the room, and knelt beside the manger. The shocked
eyes of the shepherds and Magi stared at the dirty shepherd boy. Gently he lay the lamb
near the child. His lip trembled as he murmured ever so softly, "For you, my King."
David was so tired and so worn of spirit that he leaned his head
against the side of
the manger and silent tears made paths down his grimy cheeks before dropping into
the straw where the baby lay. He was so tired and so ashamed. How had he dared give
a lamb to a King? A tiny, soft hand reached up and wrapped itself around one of
David's fingers. David lifted his head, opened his eyes, and looked into the face of the
Christ Child. David looked...and for the first time he saw. There, looking up at him,
was a child's tiny face. There was a smile on the delicate pink lips, and the whole face
glowed with light and love, and David saw. He saw, but was not startled. A tremendous
peace flowed over and through him. A vast peace that filled his heart and mind and
body. He knew, now, that the King had been pleased with his gift. Mary leaned over
and kissed David's cheek as he whispered in wonder, "I have found my King."
