The Christmas Shoebox

“Now, place the baby sheep beside the shepherd, Charlotte.”
Charlotte carefully puts the figure beside the shepherd. “Is this okay, daddy?” she asked.
“You’re a natural artist, honey. You must have gotten it from your mother,” her father kissed her on the forehead.
“Can I throw this old stinking box, daddy?” she dangled the old box that contained the Crèche figurines.
“Oh, no! Not that box dear,” her father replied.
“Can’t we change it with a new one? It’s so smeeelly!”
“ Charlotte , dear. It doesn’t mean that if something’s old then it’s meant to be thrown away.”
“But it’s only an old cardboard box, daddy,” she insisted.
“I know, but it’s not only an old box, it’s our Christmas box!”
“Christmas box?” his reply tickled his daughter’s curiosity.
“Yes…,” her dad started to clean up the living room and putting back the bubble wrap sheets into the old box.
“Why is it a Christmas box, daddy?”
* * *
In some long ago ‘once a upon a time’ there was a poor old couple living in a small little wooden house. The man was once a cobbler of shoes.
“What’s a cobbler, daddy?” Charlotte asked.
“It means one who makes and repairs shoes.”
They were happy with the simple blessings that God had given them. They never complained, criticized, nor compared themselves with their neighbours. Everything they needed was in their little rugged house and they gave whatever they could to help the poorer people in their village.
One night as they said their bedtime prayers, the wife thought aloud, “I’m very thankful for everything that God has given us. But surely, after all these years, He wouldn’t mind if we asked something for ourselves.”
“Wife…what else could we ask for?” the husband said quite surprised. “We agreed many years before getting married to simply ask for a happy lasting marriage, a simple life and eternal bliss in Heaven.”
“That is so true,” the wife replied.
“Then what else could you ask God for?”
“Since we have never given a thought to ourselves…,” she slid into bed. “I don’t think He would mind if we could borrow the Baby Jesus for this Christmas!”
“Whaaat?” the husband exclaimed almost jumping out of bed.
“Yees!” she replied calmly.
“But… that’s…”
“Craaazy?”
“Yes! It’s craaazy!” he scratched his balding temple.
“Look, we have never been blessed with children. But neither did we complain. I was only thinking that this could be our last Christmas on earth… And wouldn’t it be wonderful to spend it by taking care of Jesus?”
“You can’t be joking, are you?” her husband said.
“Of course not. We’re very old and I don’t think there’s anything bad in asking this, besides it’s also like a prayer asking for Heaven.”
The husband couldn’t believe his wife. “Alright, but you lead the prayer, honey!”
They got out of bed and knelt down to pray.
That same evening, God spoke to them in a dream. He told them that He was very amused with their request since no one had ever asked for this before. So He decided to let them have the Baby Jesus for Christmas.
God, however, gave them one condition: that they would allow the Baby Jesus to do whatever He wanted, even though He did the most unexpected thing. The couple didn’t quite understand and felt that there was nothing really ‘unexpected’ that God’s Son could or would do. So they joyfully agreed.
The next day the husband could not believe what he dreamt about. “So you see, it wasn’t so hard after all!” his wife excitedly said.
“But how are we supposed to receive the Child, when we don’t have anything fit for a King?” the man asked.
“Look…,” she said. “…we may be poor, but we have more than what Mary and Joseph had to offer then. We have a warm fire, we have a goat to give some milk, soft beds and many more things. What worries me more is what God said about allowing the Child to do what He wanted.”
“That also worries me quite a bit,” the man agreed.
* * *
A week before Christmas, the couple did their best to prepare their home. They swept the floors, cleaned the windows, replenish the firewood and food supplies. They even prepared a small crib filled with fine soft duck feather pillows just for the Baby Jesus.
Three days before Christmas a blizzard struck the village. It was so strong that no transport of any sort could travel or pass through. It became so cold that the couple could not help but use their stock of firewood. Their smaller farm animals also died and also the old goat they depended on for milk.
The conditions worsened and the old couple began to worry. “How are we going to possibly receive Jesus in this bad weather?” the woman asked.
A few hours before Christmas eve the husband lamented, “We’re almost out of firewood! I don’t think this was the best time to ask for Jesus!”
“At least we still have the crib and the frozen milk,” his wife tried to be optimistic even though she felt devastated about their condition.
“Could we at least borrow something from our neighbours?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” the man observed. “Look, I don’t see smoke coming out of anyone’s house either!”
[THUD!]
“What was that?” the woman heard a sound.
“It came from the living room!”
They rushed inside and saw the cute little feet of a child dangling out of the cobbler’s repair shoebox.”
They peered into box and beheld the most wonderful looking but shivering baby boy.
“Baby Jesus!” the wife whispered as embraced and kissed the boy.
“God has answered our prayers,” her husband said.
The man quickly gathered what he could to make a small fire. He then tried his best to thaw the milk.
His wife warmed the Child and softly hummed some songs.
They spent the entire Christmas night silently contemplating the Child, making Him sip the warm goat milk and tickling Him. It delighted them to hear Jesus coo and giggle.
“I guess it’s time to place him in the crib now, dear,” the man said.
“Yes, I guess it’s time.”
“Did God say anything about how long we could borrow him?” her husband asked.
“No, I don’t recall God saying anything about that.”
In the middle of the night the wife woke up and realized the Child was no longer in the crib.
“Dear, where is the Child?”
Fearful, they searched all over the house. After a few minutes they were relieved to find him once again inside the shoebox.
This happened two or three more times, until the husband said, “Remember, dear? We must allow Him to do as he pleases.”
With that they managed to sleep through the night.
The next day, they found the Child still asleep inside the old dirty shoebox.
“Look! He’s wearing shoes!” the wife exclaimed.
“That’s funny, I don’t remember making them,” the cobbler examined them.
“Then where did He find them?”
“I remember now,” her husband rectified and started to cry.
Just then, the Child woke up and looked up to them. He smiled, chuckled softly and disappeared.
“Those were the shoes I made for the child I expected us to have,” the cobbler sobbed. “I forgot all about them after the miscarriage and stashed them inside the box.”
* * *
“So Jesus must have taken the shoes to give it to their child in Heaven, daddy?” Charlotte asked.
“Maybe,” her dad replied and picked up the box.
“Wait.., daddy! What’s on the box?” she caught something written on the side.
“Oh, that?” he smiled.
[DEAR CLYDE, MAY THIS MANGER CRADLE OUR FAMILY’S LOVE FOREVER, TILL WE ALL MEET IN HEAVEN. LOVE, SHARON]
“Did mommy write that dad?”
“Yup,” her father’s eyes swelled with tears.
“Is she watching this manger from Heaven?”
“…uh, I guess so, honey. She’s watching us from Heaven’s manger.”