Inspired by both Reverend Bill Nottage-Tacey (who writes an original story for the family worship service each Christmas Eve at First Presbyterian Church in Hastings) and by children's author Katherine Patterson (who writes a story for her husband, a Presbyterian pastor to read to his congregation on Christmas Eve), I have begun to tell a story to the children of my church on Christmas Eve. The grown-ups are encouraged to listen along and see if there is anything in the story for them.
Here is my original story for Christmas Eve, December 24, 2013 for the children of Community Presbyterian Church in Plainview, Minnesota. Thank you for reading.
What the Mouse Saw That Night
"Well hello there. I would like to tell you my story about what happened on that night, that glorious night. It was truly a magical night to be there in the stable to witness the miraculous events and to see what was to be seen. And to have my whole family there as part of it…especially my son, my beloved son.
Here is my original story for Christmas Eve, December 24, 2013 for the children of Community Presbyterian Church in Plainview, Minnesota. Thank you for reading.
What the Mouse Saw That Night
"Well hello there. I would like to tell you my story about what happened on that night, that glorious night. It was truly a magical night to be there in the stable to witness the miraculous events and to see what was to be seen. And to have my whole family there as part of it…especially my son, my beloved son.
You see I never thought he would come back. I thought I had
lost him forever. But he came back on that wonderful, glorious night.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t think we’ve been
properly introduced. My name is Albert – all my friends call me Al. And I am
the mouse that lives in the stable with my wife, the missus, and our little
mouseling children…all 13 of them.
We didn’t always live in a stable. On no. But I don’t think we’ll ever leave. The story of how we came to live in the stable – and how we got our oldest son back is the one I want to tell you today.
It isn’t uncommon for a mouse and his family to have to move
around a bit, let me tell you. The two-legged ones, especially the missus two-legged
ones just don’t like us living between the walls and so every now and then we
have to pack up – and sometime chased out – to a new place. But we were lucky
mice. After a particularly long winter when food was scarce and hard to come
by, we found the perfect place to settle in and raise a family. We wouldn’t
normally choose a place so close to people – but the winter was long and we
were hungry…and well, we were desparate…and it was our turn to have a little
bit of luck come our way, you know?
So we found a quiet sleepy town, Bethlehem, and we found a quiet, sleepy inn. The inn was never full and we found a spot between two walls that were never used by the two-legged humans. We became quite comfortable and spend many, many seasons there. My little mouselings grew. Looking back, I should have realized, I should have seen it coming. I should have known that we had it too good for too long and that something was going to change. Good luck can only followed by bad luck, so they say. So they say indeed.
I might have been prepared for what we now refer to in the
mouse colony as “the great invasion.” The week where the inn got busier than we
have ever seen it – the week our home was discovered and cleaned and we were
forced out on the street – oh the busy streets. I might if been better prepared
for this so called great invasion if the day before it started I hadn’t had a
bit of a row with my oldest son.
You see, sometimes I don’t always get along with my son. At least I didn’t in those days. The missus tells me that I was pretty hard headed and that I insisted on always being right. I used to get pretty hot under the old mouse color, so to speak, when she tried to help me out. I was the head mouse and I had expectations for how my children were supposed to be. And they were. Except for my son. Always having his own ideas. Always seeing things different. Always wanted to be his own mouse.
Well, things got bad…and I said some things I didn’t really mean…and he left. He packed his cheeks with next week’s meal and he hit the road. He said some things that I hope he didn’t mean as well…and was gone. I figured he’d come back…but he didn’t. And as the truth hit me that I had lost my own son because of my stubbornness and hardheadedness…well, you can’t blame me for missing the signs around me that things were changing in Bethlehem.
Oh, I should have seen it coming, but I was worried sick about my son. Looking back there were signs of change to come…but I missed them. And it cost me my home…my happy home…and it nearly cost me my family.
It was the mouse secret that saved us all. The mouse secret is this – when your home is discovered and you are forced to evacuate - find shelter where the animal smell is the strongest.
And that is what we did.
It seemed to happen so quickly. Our quiet, sleepy town of Bethlehem wasn’t so quiet anymore. Our quiet, sleepy inn wasn’t so quiet anymore. People were travelling. Rich, poor, in between and they all needed a place to stay. The rooms in the inn that hadn’t seen a visitor, hadn’t been cleaned in many, many night, was suddenly needed. Every room was filled. We were discovered in a frenzy of cleaning. We didn’t have time to grab anything. We fled in different directions. We were nearly caught, we were separated – oh I shudder to think about the chaos that night…but we remembered the secret of the mice….when things are bad….follow your nose to the worse smell possible…and hope for the best.
And that is what we all did….after running and splitting up, we followed our nose to the stable, behind the inn. The worst possible smell….but it hid us well. We regrouped in a particually smelly patch of hay in the back corner and counted mouse noses. We were one nose short. My son. My oldest son…he would never find his way back to us, I realized.
The reality that we had lost not only our home but also our first-born mouse sank in. The mood was somber and quiet. We probably should have noticed that the other animals in the stable around us were quiet and seemed to have a sense of heightened anticipation…as if something important was happening that night. But it was another sign we missed, overcome with grief.
Who can blame us for drifting off to sleep? The adrelenine of our flight wore off and the sadness overtook us and we slept. So I don’t know when the human couple arrived. We didn’t hear them or see them….it was the cries of the baby that woke us up. I couldn’t believe it! I thought we were having a bad day…but this human couple had managed to have a baby in the stable with all the animals. They looked so young and so scared.
The babies cries woke me up. He was so tiny, and yet I could tell something was special about this boy. This baby being nursed back to sleep by his young mother.
I was about to wake up the rest of the family when there was a great commotion. A large group of shepherds had come – in the middle of the night no less – to see this baby, this ordinary, baby.
I was about to wake my family when I heard the voice of the
one mouse that I never thought I’d hear from again.
I heard my son, my lost son, the one whom I believed to be lost forever. I heard my son say, “Dad, is that you?”
I turned to look. There was my son, my oldest son standing before me. “Dad, I can’t believe it’s you. I never you’d leave the inn. What happened? Oh it doesn’t matter. Let me tell you what just happened to me.
When I left you – so filled with anger – I went out to the
country. We had been in the inn in Bethlehem for so long that I wanted my
space. I found a group of shepherds, rough, smelly bunch, to live with these
past weeks. I was about ready to move on, when something incredible happened.
Angels, Dad. They are real. They appeared before these shepherds and spoke of marvelous things. They said that a baby, a human baby was born tonight. And that they should go and see him – here in Bethlehem. I thought I’d come along to. I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. I’ve never travelled with a group of people so excited and in awe before. They said this baby was something special. Have you seen him yet?
Anyways, Dad it got me thinking. There are a couple of
things I want to say to you. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. And I love you. Will
you take me back?”
Better words a father mouse has never heard.
I tried to speak, but I couldn’t find the words – so I embraced my son. “Welcome to our new home.”
You know, we stayed in the stable for many, many years. The
new baby – I heard they named him Jesus – moved on. The town quieted down
again.
But we stayed in that manger – and always remembered that
night, when angels spoke, when forgiveness won and when peace came to our
little mouse family."
Amen? Amen.
Amen? Amen.
