This Christmas I decided to let a story do the talking for me. You do not even have to be a Christian to understand the concepts of giving and sharing. Merry X-mas to everyone out there and have a safe happy holiday. Accept our best wishes for a great New Year for you and yours.
The Cobbler and His Guest
There once lived in the city of Marseilles an old shoemaker, loved by his neighbors, who affectionately called him “Father Martin.”
One Christmas Eve, as he sat alone in his little shop, he said to himself, “If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I know what I would give Him!” He rose from his stool and took from a shelf overhead two tiny shoes of softest snow-white leather, with bright silver buckles. “I would give Him those, my finest work.”
Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired to rest. Hardly had he closed his eyes when he heard a voice call his name… “Martin! Martin!” He felt a presence. “Martin, you have wished to see Me. Tomorrow I shall pass by your window. If you see Me, and bid Me enter, I shall be your guest at your table.”
Martin did not sleep that night for joy. And before dawn he rose and swept and cleaned up his shop. On the spotless linen-covered table he placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey and a pitcher of milk, and over the fire he hung a pot of tea. Then he took up his patient vigil at the window.
Presently he saw an old street-sweeper pass by, blowing upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them.
“Poor fellow, he must be half frozen,” thought Martin. Opening the door he called out to him, “Come in, friend, be warm, and drink a cup of hot tea.” And the invitation was gratefully accepted.
An hour passed, and Martin saw a young poor woman carrying a baby. She paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his doorway. The heart of the old cobbler was touched. Quickly he flung open the door. “Come in and warm yourself,” he said. “You do not look well.”
“I am going to the hospital. I hope they will take me and my baby boy in,” she explained. “My husband is at sea, and I am ill, without a soul.”
“Poor child!” cried Martin. “You must eat something while you are getting warm. Let me give a cup of milk to the little one. Why, you have put no shoes on him!”
“I have no shoes for him,” sighed the mother sadly. “Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished yesterday.” And Martin took down from the shelf the soft little snow-white shoes he had admired the evening before. He slipped them on the child’s feet… They fit perfectly. And shortly the poor young mother left tearful with gratitude.
And Father Martin resumed his post at the window. Hour after hour went by, and although many people passed his window, and many needy souls shared his hospitality, the expected Guest did not appear.
“It was only a dream,” he sighed, with a heavy heart. “He has not come.”
Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room was flooded with a strange light. And to the cobbler’s astonished vision there appeared before him, one by one, the poor street-sweeper, the sick mother and her child, and all the people whom he had helped during the day. And each smiled at him and asked, “Have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?” Then they vanished.
At last, out of the silence, Martin heard again the gentle voice repeating the old familiar words. “Whosoever shall receive one such in My name, receiveth Me… for I was ahungered, and ye gave Me meat; I was athirst, and ye gave Me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took Me in… verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me.”
