The Christmas Orange

At this time of year, Christmas, we often get little reminder stories about the real reason for this season. I love it because it focuses me back on our Saviour, Jesus Christ, when sometimes I'm wrapped up in other non-essentials things.

I really like this story so I thought I'd share it with those who don't have it already and again with those who do. I know there are many different versions out there but this is the one I like.

THE CHRISTMAS ORANGE

Orphanages of the early 19^th Century England were bleak and lonely places. Only very underprivileged children were sent there. Orphans were children for whom nobody cared. Children with no place to turn. Children like Sarah.

The orphanage where Sarah lived was squat, brick building with high windows and cold, stone floors. She shared a bed with seven other girls who were as destitute as she. Every day was spent working. The children tended the garden and sewed and cooked for wealthy families. They arose at dawn and worked until dark with only two sparse meals to mark the passage of the day.

Like the other girls, Sarah had nothing to call her own. Once, she had taken a discarded rag and tied a knot in the end to form a head for a makeshift doll. She carried it with her for days until it came to the attention of the orphanage master. He was a harsh man who was slow to understand and quick to anger.

Now, Sarah and the others had nothing. Christmas Day was the one time of the year when their tasks were fewer and each child received a gift. The gift was a tradition and of great worth, given by a generous and unknown benefactor. The girls could not have prized their gifts more if they had been made of gold. Each kept hers for days and sometimes weeks, protecting it, touching it and savoring it all they could. This precious, aromatic gift was and orange.

As the holiday season approached, the eager children would share in whispers their plans for their special prize. One would say, “I will keep mine the longest! I might never eat it, so I will have it forever!” Another would shake her head and say, “I will eat mine right away so it will be at its best and I won’t lose a single drop!”

Their talk was filled with how large last year’s fruit had been and how carefully they had cared for it. Sarah had slept with her orange, cradling it tenderly and securely so as not to bruise it. She could not have put her feelings into words, but she somehow felt the orange was her connection to the world beyond the walls of her gray existence.

With the orange to her cheek, she would dream of children all over the world smelling the sweet aroma of citrus and this would fill her heart with comfort and hope. It had been a long year and her dreams were faded and dim. How good it would be to have the precious gift again!

Christmas Day dawned clear and cold. The anxious children crowded into the dining hall, hoping to be among the first to reach into the orange barrel. In the excitement, Sarah was jostled by an older boy and fell into a younger child, causing the tot to cry, more in surprise than hurt.

“SARAH!” boomed the master’s voice. “I see that you have no common courtesy to wait your turn. Leave the room at once!” The muscles in Sarah’s throat tightened into a fist as she turned quickly and sped from the hall before the hot tears began. She went at once to her little corner to be alone in her anguish. A little orange is only as much as you make of it, but to Sarah it represented all she longed for and didn’t have – security, comfort, and hope for the future. How would she ever make it another whole year without the dreams?

The minutes stretched into hours before Sarah heard the soft steps of rag-clad feet returning to the dormitory. She turned her tear stained cheeks to the wall to avoid lessening the joy her friends must feel in their gifts. She would not spoil the one special day for them.

To her surprise, the girls entered silently, and Sarah turned reluctantly at the touch of a timid hand upon her shoulder. There stood little Elizabeth, her tangled hair falling over one eye, her grubby hand extended and in her palm a single section of orange. Sarah shook her head, overwhelmed at the offering, but Elizabeth pressed it into her hand then slid quickly back into the circle of girls.

Next Mary stepped forward and with an awkward hug, added a section of her orange to the one in Sarah’s trembling hand. One by one, each of the girls came forward and offered to their friend a portion of her own gift. It was all they had in the world to give, and they gave it freely – shyly at first, but with ever increasing confidence and joy.

At last, Sarah looked down into her hand through tears of a different sort- at the whole, perfect orange that the girls had made for her. Though the orange itself lasted her but a brief time that Christmas, the love it represented lasted her the rest of her life!

One might want to reread John 3:16-17 again after reading this story. Last Sunday we watched a DVD entitled "To This End Was I Born" (click on Video Recordings and then DVD) and then read Luke 2: 1-20. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. This is a great Family Home Evening and a great DVD to share with your friends and neighbors.

We have much to be thankful for, but most of all is the life of Jesus Christ who gave His for us.