By Carol Christensen '66

As he was driving his car along Waycinden street, John Mulberry noticed that the avenue was decorated for Christmas. He hadn't realized it was that time of year again. Somehow it didn't seem the same.  Nothing had seemed the same since his wife's death a year ago. Even the thought of Christmas couldn't replace the emptiness he felt in his heart.

Mr. Mulberry parked the car and walked down the sidewalk. All of his relatives would be expecting presents. He might as well stop and buy them something now.

Christmas carols were coming from inside the stores, but John's ears were closed to the beautiful songs.

"What was the good of Christmas?" he wondered. It was probably just a time when a person could receive presents and drink eggnog. When his wife was living, Christmas had seemed a joyous occasion. Now it seemed like a waste of time.

John was turning the corner when his eyes settled on a little boy who was standing in front of a big department store. The boy was shivering from the cold and at times a tear rolled down his cheek. He seemed unable to turn his gaze from the electric train in the display window.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" John asked the little boy. "You'd better run on home."

"I don't got no home. I'm an orphan," replied, the boy. "I just come to look at my train 'cause I feel sure somebody'll take it away tonight."

As the boy said this something was awakened inside the man. The spirit of Christmas and of giving sent a warm feeling through him. He took the boy's hand in his and said, "Come on, let's get a better look at that train. I don't have any family, either, and no one to give a present to. Could I buy one for you?"

John turned then and saw how the snow came down in swirling masses. It made the whole earth white and sparkly. It was indeed a beautiful Christmas Eve.

Now it was the young Negro's turn to speak. "Charity's something you gotta have all the time, not just two weeks before and two weeks after Christmas," said he.

"Day in and day out, you gotta give something of yourself without expecting anything in return. That's what real charity is," he went on. "Unless we've got it all year around, Christmas doesn't mean a thing. Christ wasn't born to make Christmas. He was born to show everyone that came after Him what real love for mankind is. The real meaning of Christmas isn't decorating everything with trees and stuffed Santa Clauses. It's honoring a fellow Who lived to show this world how to live, and Who died for the salvation of all generations unto the end of time."

Nodding their heads in agreement, these three wise men continued their journey, a journey towards a star far above the horizon. This star, the star of eternity, stretches far before them, and the distance is the span of a lifetime.

Three wise men bear the greatest gifts of all: wisdom, charity, and humility, all of wealth that goes deeper than material things and an urgent desire to serve mankind on their way through the journey of life. Perhaps these men have somehow captured the real meaning of Christmas within their daily thoughts and actions; but this is not for others to say, for the real meaning of Christmas lies deep in the roots of our souls. There it waits until each of us seeks it out in our own time and way. Then and only then can the song of Christmas arise in our hearts; and there it will remain, sung by good deeds and thoughts. At last there will be peace on earth and good will towards all mankind.