The Journey To Christ: A Christmas Story
By: Kathleen Lockwood
Tags: Creative Writing, Christmas, Religion, Illustration, Spirituality

Chapter One

WHOOSH!

“Wow, what was that?” The father yelled as he slammed on the breaks.

“It looked like a bird. What is it doing out here in this snowstorm? I almost hit it!”

It was a dark and snowy late December eve, and the Starre family was on their way to their church’s Christmas pageant. The napping children in the crowded backseat woke up with a jolt, and the older ones immediately started to bicker.

“You make a stupid shepherd,” said Cammy. She just turned 11 and was very impatient with her brother who was three years younger. Sammy sobbed and tried to kick Cammy, but he hit his baby sister’s car seat instead. Startled, little Lammy began to cry. Their mother turned her head and whispered sternly, “Look, you’ve made your little sister cry. Can’t you two stop fighting? It’s Christmas Eve!” The two children pouted as they continued to give each other nasty stares. An unsettled silence filled the car.

They finally pulled into the church parking lot. It was packed. Silently, the family weaved their way through the icy darkness towards the brightly lit church doors.

Suddenly, a large shape loomed out from between the parked cars. Startled, everyone stepped back as a shabbily dressed man held out his hand to them. “Do you have anything for an old man?” he asked, snow covering his beard, “I’m hungry.” Sammy huddled behind his father’s legs, but Cammy quickly recovered herself. “Go get a job, you slob!” she said and hastily strutted past him. Her parents whispered apologies to the man as her dad handed him a bill. They left him standing in the snow.

Once inside the church, the two oldest children quickly rushed to join the loud crowd of laughing classmates. Excitement filled the air as their Sunday School teacher helped them transform sheets and blankets into shepherd costumes.

Cammy was jealous that she did not get to play Mary’s part, and she was not afraid to let her feelings be known. “I don’t know why Lindsey got to be Mary,” Cammy whispered loudly to her friend. “Her hair is so ugly, and look at that nose!” Her clique of girlfriends giggled with her. Lindsey pretended not to hear Cammy’s cruel words and turned her head so they would not see her tears.

All the parents were quite happy and proud to see their children on stage. Unexpected laughter erupted when one of the dogs dressed as a sheep picked up a stuffed lamb and carried it off stage.

Near the end of the pageant, Sammy anxiously stood up and walked to the manger. It was time to say his line, but when he looked out at the audience, he was so frightened he saw monsters! He froze! Cammy made a disgusted sound and rolled her eyes as Sammy ran off the stage, crying.

Silence prevailed as a glum family drove home.

Later that night, as the children were getting ready for bed, Sammy let his mood shift as he talked about all the presents that Santa would bring them.

“There is no Santa,” Cammy defiantly proclaimed.

“Yes, there is,” Sammy declared as he perched on the end of his bed, looking out the window.

“Look,” he said, suddenly excited, “there he is!”

Cammy jumped up to look out the window. “That’s not Santa,” she said, “it’s just a star.”

Sammy stood at the window, his eyes alight with wonder. “Look! This star is moving closer and closer,” he yelled. “It’s so close I bet I can touch it!”

He put his hand up to the window. The glass in the window dissolved in the bright light, and a hand appeared and grabbed Sammy. Someone or something was pulling him out of his bedroom window!

“Help!” he called out as he began to float out the window. Cammy, in desperation, grabbed his leg. Someone was pulling Sammy out the window, and Cammy was helpless to stop it.

She held on tightly, and together they found themselves engulfed in the loving arms of an angel.

Floating within the tail of the star, they passed through time and space. The children saw the stars turn slowly, and below them, they saw the blue and green earth spinning in circles.

To be continued…

For more writing by Reverend Kathleen Lockwood, visit the Heart Self Speaks Collective www.theheartselfspeaks.com