Papa Panov did not often read, but tonight
he pulled down the big old family Bible and, slowly tracing the lines with one
forefinger, he read again the Christmas story. He read how Mary and Joseph,
tired by their journey to Bethlehem, found no room for them at the inn, so that
Mary's little baby was born in the cowshed.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" exclaimed
Papa Panov, "if only they had come here! I would have given them my bed
and I could have covered the baby with my patchwork quilt to keep him
warm."
He read on about the wise men who had come
to see the baby Jesus, bringing him splendid gifts. Papa Panov's face fell.
"I have no gift that I could give him," he thought sadly.
Then his face brightened. He put down the
Bible, got up and stretched his long arms to the shelf high up in his little
room. He took down a small, dusty box and opened it. Inside was a perfect pair
of tiny leather shoes. Papa Panov smiled with satisfaction. Yes, they were as
good as he had remembered- the best shoes he had ever made. "I should give
him those," he decided, as he gently put them away and sat down again.
He was feeling tired now, and the further he
read the sleeper he became. The print began to dance before his eyes so that he
closed them, just for a minute. In no time at all Papa Panov was fast asleep.
And as he slept he dreamed. He dreamed that
someone was in his room and he knew at once, as one does in dreams, who the
person was. It was Jesus.
"You have been wishing that you could
see me, Papa Panov." he said kindly, "then look for me tomorrow. It
will be Christmas Day and I will visit you. But look carefully, for I shall not
tell you who I am."
When at last Papa Panov awoke, the bells
were ringing out and a thin light was filtering through the shutters.
"Bless my soul!" said Papa Panov. "It's Christmas Day!"
He stood up and stretched himself for he was
rather stiff. Then his face filled with happiness as he remembered his dream.
This would be a very special Christmas after all, for Jesus was coming to visit
him. How would he look? Would he be a little baby, as at that first Christmas?
Would he be a grown man, a carpenter- or the great King that he is, God's Son?
He must watch carefully the whole day through so that he recognized him however
he came.
Papa Panov put on a special pot of coffee
for his Christmas breakfast, took down the shutters and looked out of the window.
The street was deserted, no one was stirring yet. No one except the road
sweeper. He looked as miserable and dirty as ever, and well he might! Whoever
wanted to work on Christmas Day - and in the raw cold and bitter freezing mist
of such a morning?
Papa Panov opened the shop door, letting in
a thin stream of cold air. "Come in!" he shouted across the street
cheerily. "Come in and have some hot coffee to keep out the cold!"
The sweeper looked up, scarcely able to
believe his ears. He was only too glad to put down his broom and come into the
warm room. His old clothes steamed gently in the heat of the stove and he
clasped both red hands round the comforting warm mug as he drank.
Papa Panov watched him with satisfaction,
but every now and them his eyes strayed to the window. It would never do to
miss his special visitor.
"Expecting someone?" the sweeper
asked at last. So Papa Panov told him about his dream.
"Well, I hope he comes," the
sweeper said, "you've given me a bit of Christmas cheer I never expected
to have. I'd say you deserve to have your dream come true." And he
actually smiled.
When he had gone, Papa Panov put on cabbage
soup for his dinner, then went to the door again, scanning the street. He saw
no one. But he was mistaken. Someone was coming.
The girl walked so slowly and quietly,
hugging the walls of shops and houses, that it was a while before he noticed
her. She looked very tired and she was carrying something. As she drew nearer
he could see that it was a baby, wrapped in a thin shawl. There was such
sadness in her face and in the pinched little face of the baby, that Papa
Panov's heart went out to them.
"Won't you come in," he called,
stepping outside to meet them. "You both need a warm by the fire and a
rest."
The young mother let him shepherd her
indoors and to the comfort of the armchair. She gave a big sigh of relief.
"I'll warm some milk for the
baby," Papa Panov said, "I've had children of my own- I can feed her
for you." He took the milk from the stove and carefully fed the baby from
a spoon, warming her tiny feet by the stove at the same time.
"She needs shoes," the cobbler
said.
But the girl replied, "I can't afford
shoes, I've got no husband to bring home money. I'm on my way to the next
village to get work."
Sudden thought flashed through Papa Panov's
mind. He remembered the little shoes he had looked at last night. But he had
been keeping those for Jesus. He looked again at the cold little feet and made
up his mind.
"Try these on her," he said,
handing the baby and the shoes to the mother. The beautiful little shoes were a
perfect fit. The girl smiled happily and the baby gurgled with pleasure.
"You have been so kind to us," the
girl said, when she got up with her baby to go. "May all your Christmas
wishes come true!"
But Papa Panov was beginning to wonder if
his very special Christmas wish would come true. Perhaps he had missed his
visitor? He looked anxiously up and down the street. There were plenty of
people about but they were all faces that he recognized. There were neighbors
going to call on their families. They nodded and smiled and wished him Happy
Christmas! Or beggars - and Papa Panov hurried indoors to fetch them hot soup
and a generous hunk of bread, hurrying out again in case he missed the
Important Stranger.
All too soon the winter dusk fell. When Papa
Panov next went to the door and strained his eyes, he could no longer make out
the passers-by. Most were home and indoors by now anyway. He walked slowly back
into his room at last, put up the shutters, and sat down wearily in his
armchair.
So it had been just a dream after all. Jesus
had not come.
Then all at once he knew that he was no
longer alone in the room.
This was not dream for he was wide awake. At
first he seemed to see before his eyes the long stream of people who had come
to him that day. He saw again the old road sweeper, the young mother and her
baby and the beggars he had fed. As they passed, each whispered, "Didn't
you see me, Papa Panov?"
"Who are you?" he called out,
bewildered.
Then another voice answered him. It was the
voice from his dream- the voice of Jesus.
"I was hungry and you fed me," he
said. "I was naked and you clothed me. I was cold and you warmed me. I
came to you today in everyone of those you helped and welcomed."
Then all was quiet and still. Only the sound
of the big clock ticking. A great peace and happiness seemed to fill the room,
overflowing Papa Panov's heart until he wanted to burst out singing and
laughing and dancing with joy.
"So he did come after all!" was all that he said.
