“TILLY’S CHRISTMAS”A heartwarming story about the power of kindness by Louisa May Alcott
The first story in our special series—-DAYS Of MAGICAL and MIRACULOUS CHRISTMAS STORIES…One great story everyday from now until Christmas Day!
THE DAWNING LIGHT, Volume 7, # 629 Monday, December 4, 2023
Child Peace Stories Section # 1 »»»»» 3 minute read time «««««
Selected, edited and published by Chinmayan…May your Christmas be bright, loving and full of kindness and miracles of every kind as these magical stories for you and your family and everyone on earth!
All images in this issue courtesy of Pixabay
TILLY’S CHRISTMAS By Louisa May Alcott
“Now I’ve a Christmas present after all,” Tilly said smiling. “I’ve always wanted a bird, and this one will be such a pretty pet for me.”
“He’ll fly away the first chance he gets and die anyhow,” said Bessy. “You’d be better off not to waste your time with him.”
“He can’t pay you for taking care of him, and my mother says it isn’t worthwhile to help folks that can’t help us,” added Kate.
My mother said, ‘Do to others as you would be done to by them,’ and I’m sure I’d like someone to help me if I was dying of cold and hunger.
I also remember the little saying, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
This bird is my little neighbor, and I’ll love him and care for him, just as I often wish our rich neighbor would love and care for us,” answered Tilly.
She leaned forward slightly, breathing her warm breath over the tiny bird, who looked up at her with confiding eyes, quick to feel and know a friend.
Little did Tilly know, her rich neighbor Mr. King overhears the conversation and observes Tilly’s Kindness.
She carries the bird to her humble home and shares what little food she has with the robin.
Her mother is cheered by the bird and encourages Tilly to take good care of him. Tilly begins to discover the joy of selfless love.
Such a poor little supper, and yet such a happy one, for love, charity, and contentment were welcome guests around the humble table.
That Christmas Eve was a sweeter one even than that at the great house, where light shone, fires blazed, a great tree glittered, music sounded, and children danced and played.
“We must go to bed early,” said Tilly’s mother as they sat by the fire. “We must save the wood, for there is only enough to last through tomorrow. The day after, I shall be paid for my work, and we can buy more.”
“If only my bird were a fairy bird and would give us three wishes,” Tilly said quietly. “How nice that would be! But, the poor dear can give me nothing, and it is of no matter.”
Tilly was looking at the robin, who lay in the basket with his head under his wing, nothing more than a feathery little ball.
“He can give you one thing, Tilly,” her mother said. “He can give you the pleasure of doing good. That is one of the sweetest things in life, and it can be enjoyed by the poor as well as the rich.”
As Tilly’s mother spoke, she softly stroked her daughter’s hair with her tired hand.
Suddenly, Tilly started with surprise and pointed toward the window. “I saw a face—a man’s face,” she confided in a frightened whisper. “He was looking in. He’s gone now, but I truly saw him.”
Tilly’s mother stood up and went to the door. “Some traveler attracted by the light perhaps,” she said.
The wind blew cold, the stars shone bright, the snow lay white on the field and the wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in the sky, but no human person was standing within sight.
“What sort of face was it?” asked Tilly’s mother, quickly closing the door.
“A pleasant sort of face. I think, but I was so startled to see it there that I don’t quite know what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there,” said Tilly.
“I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road is dark and lonely just here and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to people as they pass by. We can do so little for our neighbors. I am glad we can at least cheer them on their way,” said Tilly’s mother. “Now put those poor old shoes to dry and go to bed, dearie. I’ll be coming soon.”
Tilly went, taking her birdie with her to sleep in his basket near her bed, lest he should be lonely in the night. Soon the house was dark and still.
When Tilly came down and opened the front door that Christmas morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped her hands, together, and then stood still, quite speechless with wonder and delight.
There, near the stoop, lay a great pile of firewood all ready to be burned.
There was also a large bundle and a basket with lovely nosegay of wintry roses, holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.
“Oh, Mother! Who could have left it?” cried Tilly, pale with excitement and surprise of it all. She stepped out to bring in the basket, and her mother, a few steps behind, stooped down to scoop up the bundle.
“The best and dearest of all Christmas angels is called ‘Charity,’” Tilly’s mother answered, her eyes welling with tears as she undid the bundle.
“She walks abroad at Christmastime doing beautiful deeds like this, and never staying to be thanked.”
It was all there—all that Tilly had imagined.
There were warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl, a pair of new shoes, and best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a small note saying, “For the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself.”
“Mother, I really do think my little bird is an angel in disguise and that all these splendid things came from him,” said Tilly, laughing and crying with joy.
It really did seem so. As Tilly spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the nosegay, and perching among the roses, began to chirp with all his little might.
The sun streamed in on the flowers, the tiny bird, and the happy child with her mother.
No one saw a shadow glide across the window or ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the night before. No one ever dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a priceless lesson from his poor little neighbor girl.
And Tilly’s bird was a Christmas angel, for by the love and tenderness she gave to the helpless little creature, she brought good gifts to herself, faithful friendship of a little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with her until the snow was gone, making summer for her in the wintertime.
Thank you for being here today!
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“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, And we are better throughout the year for having, In spirit, become a child again at Christmastime.”
—Laura Ingalls Wilder
Wonderful Christmas story and sharing! Thank you 🙏 God bless ❤️🦋💕