Please enjoy part two of this Christmas story in four installments, my gift to you and your family.
Our story picks up after the introduction of five groups of children trying to find their way through separate parts of a forest: one group of five children dressed all in red; miles away, another group of six children dressed in black; another two dressed in white, who join the children in red; a much larger group of 26 children dressed in yellow; and a boy alone, dressed in purple.
They continued to walk for what seemed like hours. Now, the funny thing about getting very cold is that at some point, you get very sleepy, even though it is very dangerous to go to sleep when you are out in the cold. This very thing happened to the group of 26 children, especially to Lillian, who had given her coat to little Raven. And it was Lillian, the coldest and the tiredest, who first saw the forest beds.
You probably have never heard of forest beds. Forest beds are what I call them simply because that is the best way that I can think of to describe them. There were 26 of them, one for every child. The fir trees of the forest had shed some of their very softest-looking limbs into piles; the snow seemed not to have touched them at all. It took no time at all for the kids to be staggering toward those beds, ready to lie down on them and go to sleep, not caring if they ever woke up.
But as they staggered toward them, mumbling about the cold, another little voice spoke up. As they whirled around to see who had just spoken, the voice spoke again. "None of you are dressed for this kind of weather, those beds aren't safe, and it's going to get much colder on this night. It just so happens that I have a pack of matches in my pack. Would you like to use them to start a fire?"
Back at the river, the water beneath her was raging as if it was trying to reach up with icy hands and drag her into its depths. But one tiny step at a time, oh so carefully, Bristol, one of the children in red, made her way across that log that had once been part of a bridge. Then she turned to the others and said, "Just cross it slowly, one at a time, and we'll all be OK."
Hunter and Kylie, the two children in white, went first. Bristol had said, "one at a time," but Kylie was really too little to try it on her own, so Hunter went with her, holding her hand. Erica was next. Her trip was a bit more harrowing than those who had gone before her, for the bottoms of her rubber galoshes were quite smooth, and more than once, she nearly slipped. Harley came next and went very slow but made it across with no incident. Luke followed Harley and shook like a leaf all the way across.
That left only one, Avery, on the far side. Her little pink snow boots trembled as she stepped out onto the little log. As she did, the howling wind in the trees began to become more ominous. It seemed that she could actually hear the wind and the trees calling her name, laughing darkly at her. If that was not scary enough, the river itself began to rage harder than ever, splashing up onto the log, making it even slipperier than it had been.
Seeing all of this, Avery's courage began to waver, and she stopped halfway across the log. The poor little thing dropped down onto her face, grabbed the log and held on for dear life. All the while, she could hear a pleasant voice coming from the water itself calling to her, telling her that it was safe and just to let go and drop in.
Then she heard her name being called by many voices, "Avery! Avery! Avery!" She refused to answer. She just lay there and held on ever tighter. The water continued to rise, and very soon, the log would be swept away with her still holding tightly to it.
As she cried and held on, she felt something on her shoulder, and she could hear her name again from one of those voices that had been calling her. This time it was from right above her. It was Harley. He was back out onto the log, and he wasn't alone. Holding his hand was Luke, and holding his hand was Erica, and holding her hand was Hunter, and holding his hand on the far bank was Bristol. He reached down, took her by the hand, helped her to her feet, and said, "We're not across until you're across. So let's get across."
Back on the other side of the forest, the children in black sat under the boughs of a giant fir tree with their new friend, the little boy in purple. The boughs of the tree nearly touched the ground, so the area underneath the branches was well shielded from the howling winds of the forest. Best of all, though, their stomachs were getting full. The amazing little boy in purple, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, had shared the contents of his pack with them. It seemed like such a small pack, but they each received an apple and a fresh piece of bread.
Did you notice that I referred to the little boy in purple as "amazing?" I have good reason to do so. It was not just the fact that he was able to feed them all from his tiny pack. After speaking with the children in black for a few moments, it dawned on all of them that he had been calling them all by name, even though they had never met him before. That thought startled them, but just as quickly, that feeling passed. It seemed to be very comforting to be around him, though there wasn't anything about him that seemed special to meet the eye. He seemed to be just an average, ordinary-looking little boy.
Finally across the river, the five children in red and the two in white were staring at something that had not been there just moments ago, a pathway with cobblestones and pretty hedges on each side. The path itself was wide, too wide almost. Down it, they could see a cozy house that seemed to say, "Come in; everything will be all right; it's warm and cozy inside, so walk this way." There was smoke rising from the chimney, and it had a sweet but unidentifiable smell to it. Harley said that it smelled like gingerbread, Erica thought it was chocolate. Avery, though, voiced a contrary opinion. "It smells like trouble to me," she said.
"Trouble?" said Harley, "I would think that a warm house down the pathway ahead of us is exactly what we need!"
"I know," she said, "But I remember something, and I can't remember from where, but it scares me a little, something about a wide path leading to destruction." The other children began to disagree with her, but they did so very kindly, as any good children should do. Bristol reminded her that she was very young. Harley reminded her that she was cold, just like the rest of them. Erica pointed out that her stomach had been growling as they walked. It was then, though, that another opinion was voiced. From behind them, a small voice said, "Everything that you say may be true, but Avery is still correct."
(READ MORE: Have some holiday cheer, or else)
Bo Wagner is pastor of Cornerstone Baptist Church of Mooresboro, North Carolina, a widely traveled evangelist and the author of several books available on Amazon and at wordofhismouth.com. Email him at 2knowhim@cbc-web.org.