Conversation – 15

Wouldn’t You All agree ….

Season’s Greetings to all in the Community. ♥

@loaf

I prey all will go well with your family. ♥

Merry Christmas Loaf. ♥

Gretchen laughed and clapped her hands and danced about until the house seemed full of music to poor, tired Granny, whose heart had been sad as she turned toward their home that night, thinking of the disappointment which must come to loving little Gretchen the next morning.

After supper was over little Gretchen drew her stool up to Granny’s side, and laying her soft, little hands on Granny’s knee, asked to be told once again the story of the coming of the Christ-Child; how the night that he was born the beautiful angels had sung their wonderful song, and how the whole sky had become bright with a strange and glorious light, never seen by the people of earth before. Gretchen had heard the story many, many times before, but she never grew tired of it, and now that Christmas Eve had come again, the happy little child wanted to hear it once more.

When Granny had finished telling it the two sat quiet and silent for a little while thinking it over; then Granny rose and said that it was time for them to go to bed. She slowly took off her heavy wooden shoes, such as are worn in that country, and placed them beside the hearth. Gretchen looked thoughtfully at them for a minute or two, and then she said, “Granny, don’t you think that somebody in all this wide world will think of us to-night?”

“Nay, Gretchen,” said Granny, “I don’t think any one will.”

“Well, then, Granny,” said Gretchen, “the Christmas angels will, I know; so I am going to take one of your wooden shoes, and put it on the windowsill outside, so that they may see it as they pass by. I am sure the stars will tell the Christmas angels where the shoe is.”

“Ah, you foolish, foolish child,” said Granny, “you are only getting ready for a disappointment To-morrow morning there will be nothing whatever in the shoe. I can tell you that now.”

But little Gretchen would not listen. She only shook her head and cried out: “Ah, Granny, you don’t talk enough to the stars.” With this she seized the shoe, and, opening the door, hurried out to place it on the windowsill.

It was very dark without, and something soft and cold seemed to gently kiss her hair and face. Gretchen knew by this that it was snowing, and she looked up to the sky, anxious to see if the stars were in sight, but a strong wind was tumbling the dark, heavy snow-clouds about and had shut away all else.

“Never mind,” said Gretchen softly to herself, “the stars are up there, even if I can’t see them, and the Christmas angels do not mind snowstorms.”

Just then a rough wind went sweeping by the little girl, whispering something to her which she could not understand, and then it made a sudden rush up to the snow-clouds and parted them, so that the deep, mysterious sky appeared beyond, and shining down out of the midst of it was Gretchen’s favourite star.

“Ah, little star, little star!” said the child, laughing aloud, “I knew you were there, though I couldn’t see you. Will you whisper to the Christmas angels as they come by that little Gretchen wants so very much to have a Christmas gift to-morrow morning, if they have one to spare, and that she has put one of Granny’s shoes upon the windowsill ready for it?”

A moment more and the little girl, standing on tiptoe, had reached the windowsill and placed the shoe upon it, and was back again in the house beside Granny and the warm fire.

The two went quietly to bed, and that night as little Gretchen knelt to pray to the Heavenly Father, she thanked him for having sent the Christ-Child into the world to teach all mankind how to be loving and unselfish, and in a few moments she was quietly sleeping, dreaming of the Christmas angels.

The next morning, very early, even before the sun was up, little Gretchen was awakened by the sound of sweet music coming from the village. She listened for a moment and then she knew that the choir-boys were singing the Christmas carols in the open air of the village street. She sprang up out of bed and began to dress herself as quickly as possible, singing as she dressed. While Granny was slowly putting on her clothes, little Gretchen, having finished dressing herself, unfastened the door and hurried out to see what the Christmas angels had left in the old wooden shoe.

The white snow covered everything—trees, stumps, roads, and pastures—until the whole world looked like fairyland. Gretchen climbed up on a large stone which was beneath the window and carefully lifted down the wooden shoe. The snow tumbled off of it in a shower over the little girl’s hands, but she did not heed that; she ran hurriedly back into the house, putting her hand into the toe of the shoe as she ran.

“Oh, Granny! Oh, Granny!” she exclaimed, “you didn’t believe the Christmas angels would think about us, but see, they have, they have! Here is a dear little bird nestled down in the toe of your shoe! Oh, isn’t he beautiful?”

Granny came forward and looked at what the child was holding lovingly in her hand. There she saw a tiny chick-a-dee, whose wing was evidently broken by the rough and boisterous winds of the night before, and who had taken shelter in the safe, dry toe of the old wooden shoe. She gently took the little bird out of Gretchen’s hands, and skilfully bound his broken wing to his side, so that he need not hurt himself by trying to fly with it. Then she showed Gretchen how to make a nice warm nest for the little stranger, close beside the fire, and when their breakfast was ready she let Gretchen feed the little bird with a few moist crumbs.

Later in the day Gretchen carried the fresh, green boughs to the old sick man by the mill, and on her way home stopped to see and enjoy the Christmas toys of some other children whom she knew, never once wishing that they were hers. When she reached home she found that the little bird had gone to sleep. Soon, however, he opened his eyes and stretched his head up, saying just as plain as a bird could say, “Now, my new friends, I want you to give me something more to eat.”

Gretchen gladly fed him again, and then, holding him in her lap, she softly and gently stroked his gray feathers until the little creature seemed to lose all fear of her. That evening Granny taught her a Christmas hymn and told her another beautiful Christmas story. Then Gretchen made up a funny little story to tell to the birdie. He winked his eyes and turned his head from side to side in such a droll fashion that Gretchen laughed until the tears came.

As Granny and she got ready for bed that night, Gretchen put her arms softly around Granny’s neck, and whispered: “What a beautiful Christmas we have had to-day, Granny! Is there anything in the world more lovely than Christmas?”

“Nay, child, nay,” said Granny, “not to such loving hearts as yours.”

Sometimes, when the weather was fine, or her Granny had an extra bundle of newly knitted stockings to take to the village, she would let little Gretchen go along with her. It chanced that one of these trips to the town came just the week before Christmas, and Gretchen’s eyes were delighted by the sight of the lovely Christmas-trees which stood in the window of the village store. It seemed to her that she would never tire of looking at the knit dolls, the woolly lambs, the little wooden shops with their , painted men and women in them, and all the other fine things. She had never owned a plaything in her whole life; therefore, toys which you and I would not think much of, seemed to her to be very beautiful.

That night, after their supper of baked potatoes was over, and little Gretchen had cleared away the dishes and swept up the hearth, because Granny dear was so tired, she brought her own small wooden stool and placed it very near Granny’s feet and sat down upon it, folding her hands on her lap. Granny knew that this meant she wanted to talk about something, so she smilingly laid away the large Bible which she had been reading, and took up her knitting, which was as much as to say: “Well, Gretchen, dear, Granny is ready to listen.”

“Granny,” said Gretchen slowly, “it’s almost Christmas time, isn’t it?”

“Yes, dearie,” said Granny, “only five more days now,” and then she sighed, but little Gretchen was so happy that she did not notice Granny’s sigh.

“What do you think, Granny, I’ll get this Christmas?” said she, looking up eagerly into Granny’s face.

“Ah, child, child,” said Granny, shaking her head, “you’ll have no Christmas this year. We are too poor for that.”

“Oh, but, Granny,” interrupted little Gretchen, “think of all the beautiful toys we saw in the village to-day. Surely Santa Claus has sent enough for every little child.”

“Ah, dearie,” said Granny, “those toys are for people who can pay money for them, and we have no money to spend for Christmas toys.”

“Well, Granny,” said Gretchen, “perhaps some of the little children who live in the great house on the hill at the other end of the village will be willing to share some of their toys with me. They will be so glad to give some to a little girl who has none.”

“Dear child, dear child,” said Granny, leaning forward and stroking the soft, shiny hair of the little girl, “your heart is full of love. You would be glad to bring a Christmas to every child; but their heads are so full of what they are going to get that they forget all about anybody else but themselves.” Then she sighed and shook her head.

“Well, Granny,” said Gretchen, her bright, happy tone of voice growing a little less joyous, “perhaps the dear Santa Claus will show some of the village children how to make presents that do not cost money, and some of them may surprise me Christmas morning with a present. And, Granny, dear,” added she, springing up from her low stool, “can’t I gather some of the pine branches and take them to the old sick man who lives in the house by the mill, so that he can have the sweet smell of our pine forest in his room all Christmas day?”

“Yes, dearie,” said Granny, “you may do what you can to make the Christmas bright and happy, but you must not expect any present yourself.”

“Oh, but, Granny,” said little Gretchen, her face brightening, “you forget all about the shining Christmas angels, who came down to earth and sang their wonderful song the night the beautiful Christ-Child was born! They are so loving and good that they will not forget any little child. I shall ask my dear stars to-night to tell them of us. You know,” she added, with a look of relief, “the stars are so very high that they must know the angels quite well, as they come and go with their messages from the loving God.”

Granny sighed, as she half whispered, “Poor child, poor child!” but Gretchen threw her arm around Granny’s neck and gave her a hearty kiss, saying as she did so: “Oh, Granny, Granny, you don’t talk to the stars often enough, else you wouldn’t be sad at Christmas time.” Then she danced all around the room, whirling her little skirts about her to show Granny how the wind had made the snow dance that day. She looked so droll and funny that Granny forgot her cares and worries and laughed with little Gretchen over her new snow-dance.

The days passed on, and the morning before Christmas Eve came. Gretchen having tidied up the little room—for Granny had taught her to be a careful little housewife—was off to the forest, singing a birdlike song, almost as happy and free as the birds themselves. She was very busy that day, preparing a surprise for Granny. First, however, she gathered the most beautiful of the fir branches within her reach to take the next morning to the old sick man who lived by the mill. The day was all too short for the happy little girl. When Granny came trudging wearily home that night, she found the frame of the doorway covered with green pine branches.

“It’s to welcome you, Granny! It’s to welcome you!” cried Gretchen; “our old dear home wanted to give you a Christmas welcome. Don’t you see, the branches of evergreen make it look as if it were smiling all over, and it is trying to say, ‘A happy Christmas’ to you, Granny!”

Granny laughed and kissed the little girl, as they opened the door and went in together. Here was a new surprise for Granny. The four posts of the wooden bed, which stood in one corner of the room, had been trimmed by the busy little fingers, with smaller and more flexible branches of the pine-trees. A small bouquet of red mountain-ash berries stood at each side of the fireplace, and these, together with the trimmed posts of the bed, gave the plain old room quite a festival look.

A little girl and her Granny have no gifts – but enjoy a beautiful Christmas with the warmth of their hearts.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, far away across the great ocean, in a country called Germany, there could be seen a small log hut on the edge of a great forest, whose fir-trees extended for miles and miles to the north.

This little house, made of heavy hewn logs, had but one room in it. A rough pine door gave entrance to this room, and a small square window admitted the light. At the back of the house was built an old-fashioned stone chimney, out of which in winter usually curled a thin, blue smoke, showing that there was not very much fire within.

Small as the house was, it was large enough for the two people who lived in it. I want to tell you a story to-day about these two people. One was an old, gray-haired woman, so old that the little children of the village, nearly half a mile away, often wondered whether she had come into the world with the huge mountains, and the great fir-trees, which stood like giants back of her small hut.

Her face was wrinkled all over with deep lines, which, if the children could only have read aright, would have told them of many years of cheerful, happy, self-sacrifice, of loving, anxious watching beside sick-beds, of quiet endurance of pain, of many a day of hunger and cold, and of a thousand deeds of unselfish love for other people; but, of course, they could not read this strange handwriting. They only knew that she was old and wrinkled, and that she stooped as she walked. None of them seemed to fear her, for her smile was always cheerful, and she had a kindly word for each of them if they chanced to meet her on her way to and from the village.

With this old, old woman lived a very little girl. So bright and happy was she that the travellers who passed by the lonesome little house on the edge of the forest often thought of a sunbeam as they saw her. These two people were known in the village as Granny Goodyear and Little Gretchen.

The winter had come and the frost had snapped off many of the smaller branches from the pine-trees in the forest. Gretchen and her Granny were up by daybreak each morning. After their simple breakfast of oatmeal, Gretchen would run to the little closet and fetch Granny’s old woollen shawl, which seemed almost as old as Granny herself. Gretchen always claimed the right to put the shawl over her Granny’s head, even though she had to climb onto the wooden bench to do it. After carefully pinning it under Granny’s chin, she gave her a good-bye kiss, and Granny started out for her morning’s work in the forest.

This work was nothing more nor less than the gathering up of the twigs and branches which the autumn winds and winter frosts had thrown upon the ground. These were carefully gathered into a large bundle which Granny tied together with a strong linen band. She then managed to lift the bundle to her shoulder and trudged off to the village with it.

Here she sold the fagots for kindling wood to the people of the village. Sometimes she would get only a few pence each day, and sometimes a dozen or more, but on this money little Gretchen and she managed to live; they had their home, and the forest kindly furnished the wood for the fire which kept them warm in cold weather.

In the summer time Granny had a little garden at the back of the hut where she raised, with little Gretchen’s help, a few potatoes and turnips and onions. These she carefully stored away for winter use. To this meagre supply, the pennies, gained by selling the twigs from the forest, added the oatmeal for Gretchen and a little black coffee for Granny. Meat was a thing they never thought of having. It cost too much money. Still, Granny and Gretchen were very happy, because they loved each other dearly.

Sometimes Gretchen would be left alone all day long in the hut, because Granny would have some work to do in the village after selling her bundle of sticks and twigs. It was during these long days that little Gretchen had taught herself to sing the song which the wind sang to the pine branches. In the summer time she learned the chirp and twitter of the birds, until her voice might almost be mistaken for a bird’s voice; she learned to dance as the swaying shadows did, and even to talk to the stars which shone through the little square window when Granny came home too late or too tired to talk.

There seems to be two different stories with the same title. I am dong both. ♥

How different each story is yet still a treasure to read. ♥

“Look at the good-for-nothing!” cried the old woman, full of wrath at the sight of the
shoeless boy. “What have you done with your shoe, you little villain?”
Little Wolff did not know how to lie, so, although trembling with terror when he saw the
rage of the old shrew, he tried to relate his adventure.
But the miserly old creature only burst into a frightful fit of laughter.
“Aha! So my young gentleman strips himself for the beggars. Aha! My young gentleman
breaks his pair of shoes for a bare-foot! Here is something new, forsooth. Very well,
since it is this way, I shall put the only shoe that is left into the chimney-place, and I’ll
answer for it that the Christ-Child will put in something to-night to beat you with in the
morning! And you will have only a crust of bread and water to-morrow. And we shall see
if the next time, you will be giving your shoes to the first vagabond that happens along.”
And the wicked woman having boxed the ears of the poor little fellow, made him climb
up into the loft where he had his wretched cubbyhole.
Desolate, the child went to bed in the dark and soon fell asleep, but his pillow was wet
with tears.
But behold! the next morning when the old woman, awakened early by the cold, went
downstairs – oh, wonder of wonders – she saw the big chimney filled with shining toys,
bags of magnificent bonbons, and riches of every sort, and standing out in front of all
this treasure, was the right wooden shoe which the boy had given to the little vagabond,
yes, and beside it, the one which she had placed in the chimney to hold the bunch of
switches.
As little Wolff, attracted by the cries of his aunt, stood in an ecstasy of childish delight
before the splendid Christmas gifts, shouts of laughter were heard outside. The woman
and child ran out to see what all this meant, and behold! all the gossips of the town were
standing around the public fountain. What could have happened? Oh, a most ridiculous
and extraordinary thing! The children of the richest men in the town, whom their parents
had planned to surprise with the most beautiful presents had found only switches in
their shoes!
Then the old woman and the child thinking of all the riches in their chimney were filled
with fear. But suddenly they saw the priest appear, his countenance full of
astonishment. Just above the bench placed near the door of the church, in the very spot
where, the night before, a child in a white garment and with bare feet, in spite of the
cold, had rested his lovely head, the priest had found a circlet of gold imbedded in the
old stones.
Then, they all crossed themselves devoutly, perceiving that this beautiful sleeping child
with the carpenter’s tools had been Jesus of Nazareth himself, who had come back for
one hour just as he had been when he used to work in the home of his parents; and
reverently they bowed before this miracle, which the good God had done to reward the
faith and the love of a little child.

her cap with such care as she never thought of taking unless she was expecting
something very good!
Then they talked, too, of all that the Christ-Child was going to bring them, of all he was
going to put in their shoes which, you might be sure, they would take good care to leave
in the chimney place before going to bed; and the eyes of these little urchins, as lively
as a cage of mice, were sparkling in advance over the joy they would have when they
awoke in the morning and saw the pink bag full of sugar-plums, the little lead soldiers
ranged in companies in their boxes, the menageries smelling of varnished wood, and
the magnificent jumping-jacks in purple and tinsel.
Alas! Little Wolff knew by experience that his old miser of an aunt would send him to
bed supperless, but, with childlike faith and certain of having been, all the year, as good
and industrious as possible, he hoped that the Christ-Child would not forget him, and so
he, too, planned to place his wooden shoes in good time in the fireplace.
Midnight mass over, the worshippers departed, eager for their fun, and the band of
pupils always walking two and two, and following the teacher, left the church.
Now, in the porch and seated on a stone bench set in the niche of a painted arch, a
child was sleeping – a child in a white woollen garment, but with his little feet bare, in
spite of the cold. He was not a beggar, for his garment was white and new, and near
him on the floor was a bundle of carpenter’s tools.
In the clear light of the stars, his face, with its closed eyes, shone with an expression of
divine sweetness, and his long, curling, blond locks seemed to form a halo about his
brow. But his little child’s feet, made blue by the cold of this bitter December night, were
pitiful to see!
The boys so well clothed for the winter weather passed by quite indifferent to the
unknown child; several of them, sons of the notables of the town, however, cast on the
vagabond looks in which could be read all the scorn of the rich for the poor, of the wellfed
for the hungry.
But little Wolff, coming last out of the church, stopped, deeply touched, before the
beautiful sleeping child.
“Oh, dear!” said the little fellow to himself, “this is frightful! This poor little one has no
shoes and stockings in this bad weather – and, what is still worse, he has not even a
wooden shoe to leave near him to-night while he sleeps, into which the little Christ-Child
can put something good to soothe his misery.”
And carried away by his loving heart, Wolff drew the wooden shoe from his right foot,
laid it down before the sleeping child, and, as best he could, sometimes hopping,
sometimes limping with his sock wet by the snow, he went home to his aunt.

Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoes
by Elizabeth Harrison

Once upon a time – so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date – in a city in the
north of Europe – with such a hard name that nobody can ever remember it – there was
a little seven-year-old boy named Wolff, whose parents were dead, who lived with a
cross and stingy old aunt, who never thought of kissing him more than once a year and
who sighed deeply whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup.
But the poor little fellow had such a sweet nature that in spite of everything, he loved the
old woman, although he was terribly afraid of her and could never look at her ugly old
face without shivering.
As this aunt of little Wolff was known to have a house of her own and an old woollen
stocking full of gold, she had not dared to send the boy to a charity school; but, in order
to get a reduction in the price, she had so wrangled with the master of the school, to
which little Wolff finally went, that this bad man, vexed at having a pupil so poorly
dressed and paying so little, often punished him unjustly, and even prejudiced his
companions against him, so that the three boys, all sons of rich parents, made a drudge
and laughing stock of the little fellow.
The poor little one was thus as wretched as a child could be and used to hide himself in
corners to weep whenever Christmas time came.
It was the schoolmaster’s custom to take all his pupils to the midnight mass on
Christmas Eve, and to bring them home again afterward.
Now, as the winter this year was very bitter, and as heavy snow had been falling for
several days, all the boys came well bundled up in warm clothes, with fur caps pulled
over their ears, padded jackets, gloves and knitted mittens, and strong, thick-soled
boots. Only little Wolff presented himself shivering in the poor clothes he used to wear
both weekdays and Sundays and having on his feet only thin socks in heavy wooden
shoes.
His naughty companions noticing his sad face and awkward appearance, made many
jokes at his expense; but the little fellow was so busy blowing on his fingers, and was
suffering so much with chilblains, that he took no notice of them. So the band of
youngsters, walking two and two behind the master, started for the church.
It was pleasant in the church which was brilliant with lighted candles; and the boys
excited by the warmth took advantage of the music of the choir and the organ to chatter
among themselves in low tones. They bragged about the fun that was awaiting them at
home. The mayor’s son had seen, just before starting off, an immense goose ready
stuffed and dressed for cooking. At the alderman’s home there was a little pine-tree with
branches laden down with oranges, sweets, and toys. And the lawyer’s cook had put on

Hello Deek and Merry Christmas. I have left notes and hot drinks for you but as you
know this Thread moves. LOL!

Happy Holidays and we are all wishing you the very best. 🙂

Here is some Hot Cider there is extra in case you have company.

Enjoy this special time of year. 🙂

Sheba, the Christmas program was wonderful! I had no idea that my grandson had a leading role. He was dressed in a dress shirt and tie. He was so handsome and he can sing. I was very proud of him.

I have him and my granddaughter this afternoon while their parents host a Christmas gathering. We are playing restaurant, so I will talk to you later. 🙂

Loaf, you and your husband will be in my thoughts and prayers. Happy Holidays!

Dear Loaf,
I am over the moon to see you today. I will say prayers for both of you. It is so hard. I feel for both of you. Happy Holidays to your family. ♡♡♡