In light of this time of year, I thought I would share one of my favorite stories. I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas!
A CHRISTMAS ORANGE
By Fred C. LeMon 1920-1973
However impossible and elusive the Christmas message may seem some years, I always take a great comfort in the story of a little orphan boy, whom we shall refer to as “Jake” for want of more variety in the matter.
Jake was a resident of an orphan’s home. One of ten children supported by what contributions the home could secure on a continuous struggle. There was very little to eat. It was seldom very warm in the wintertime, for fuel was expensive. But at Christmastime there always seemed to be a little more to eat and the home seemed a little warmer, and it was a time for more than the usual enjoyment. But more than this, there was an orange. The only time of the year that such a rare item was provided—and it was coveted by each child like no other thing they ever possessed. They would save it for several days. Admiring it, feeling it, loving it, and contemplating the moment when they would eat it. Truly it was the “piece de resistance” to the Christmastide, and the year, for many would wait until New Year’s Day or later to eat it. Oftentimes it would start to dry out and shrivel before they would eat it in order to salvage what they could.
This Christmas Day Jake had offended the rules or authority of the home in some manner and his punishment was loss of the orange privilege. After a year of waiting for this rare occasion, and this most desired of all rewards, it was denied. Plaintiff impleading was to no avail. Although the offence was rather minor, still it was an infraction of rules that must govern in regulated society. Jake spent Christmas Day empty and alone—it even seemed the other children didn’t want to associate with a person who didn’t have an orange.
Nighttime arrived and this was worse of all. Jake could not sleep. There was no love in the world. There was no forgiving. And certainly there could be no God that would permit a contrite little soul to suffer so much by himself. Silently he sobbed for the future of mankind; and the world perhaps, but mostly because he didn’t have an orange like the other kids had.
A soft hand placed on Jake’s shoulders startled him momentarily and an object was quickly shoved into his hands. The donor disappeared into the dark of the room leaving Jake with what he did not immediately identify as an orange. Not a regular run-of-the-orchard, but one fabricated from segments of nine other oranges. Nine other highly prized oranges that would of necessity be eaten this day instead of several days hence.
MAY THE GOOD LORD BLESS AND PROSPER YOU THIS DAY AND ALWAYS!
By Fred C. LeMon 1920-1973
However impossible and elusive the Christmas message may seem some years, I always take a great comfort in the story of a little orphan boy, whom we shall refer to as “Jake” for want of more variety in the matter.
Jake was a resident of an orphan’s home. One of ten children supported by what contributions the home could secure on a continuous struggle. There was very little to eat. It was seldom very warm in the wintertime, for fuel was expensive. But at Christmastime there always seemed to be a little more to eat and the home seemed a little warmer, and it was a time for more than the usual enjoyment. But more than this, there was an orange. The only time of the year that such a rare item was provided—and it was coveted by each child like no other thing they ever possessed. They would save it for several days. Admiring it, feeling it, loving it, and contemplating the moment when they would eat it. Truly it was the “piece de resistance” to the Christmastide, and the year, for many would wait until New Year’s Day or later to eat it. Oftentimes it would start to dry out and shrivel before they would eat it in order to salvage what they could.
This Christmas Day Jake had offended the rules or authority of the home in some manner and his punishment was loss of the orange privilege. After a year of waiting for this rare occasion, and this most desired of all rewards, it was denied. Plaintiff impleading was to no avail. Although the offence was rather minor, still it was an infraction of rules that must govern in regulated society. Jake spent Christmas Day empty and alone—it even seemed the other children didn’t want to associate with a person who didn’t have an orange.
Nighttime arrived and this was worse of all. Jake could not sleep. There was no love in the world. There was no forgiving. And certainly there could be no God that would permit a contrite little soul to suffer so much by himself. Silently he sobbed for the future of mankind; and the world perhaps, but mostly because he didn’t have an orange like the other kids had.
A soft hand placed on Jake’s shoulders startled him momentarily and an object was quickly shoved into his hands. The donor disappeared into the dark of the room leaving Jake with what he did not immediately identify as an orange. Not a regular run-of-the-orchard, but one fabricated from segments of nine other oranges. Nine other highly prized oranges that would of necessity be eaten this day instead of several days hence.
MAY THE GOOD LORD BLESS AND PROSPER YOU THIS DAY AND ALWAYS!
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