or
"The Littlest Christmas Tree"

 Far away on a hillside grew a forest of trees--little and big, old and young, tall and short.  The trees were very happy with life just as it was on the hillside.  They loved the warm sunlight of summer; spring's cool, silvery rains; the gorgeous reds and gold of autumn; and winter's blanket of glistening snow.  But sometimes, too, they spoke of the future, of the things they would like to do and be when they grew up.

One said, "You know, I should like to be a baby's cradle.  I have seen people come into this forest carrying babies in their arms.  I think a baby is the sweetest thing I have ever seen and I should like to be made into a baby's bed."

A second tree spoke, "That would not please me at all.  I want to be something important.  I should like to cross many waters and carry cargoes of gold."

One little tree stood off by himself, apparently in deep reflection, but he did not speak.

"And what would you like to be?" asked the Mother tree.  "Have you do dreams for the future?"

"No dreams," he answered, "except to stand on a hillside and point to God.  What could a tree want more than that?  Mother Tree looked at him fondly, "What indeed," she said.

Years passed.  The trees grew up.  One day men came to the forest and cut down the first little tree.  "I wonder whether I shall be made into a baby's cradle now.  I hope so.  I have waited so long," he whispered.

But the little tree was not made into a cradle.  Instead it was hewn into rough pieces and carelessly put together to form a manger in a stable in Bethlehem.  He was heartbroken.  "I do not like this at all," he wailed.  "This is not what I planned--to be shoved into this dark cave (for that it was) with no one to see me but the cattle."

But God, who loves little trees, whispered, "Wait, I will show you something."  And He did, for...

In the stillness of the night, God laid there His own babe--the Son of God.  The manger quivered with delight.  "Oh, this is wonderful!" he whispered.  "In all my dreams I never thought to hold a baby like this.  This is better than all my planning.  Why, I am part of a miracle!"

And out on the hillside, the trees of the forest clapped their hands because  their brother, the little manger, had seen his wish come true.

Years passed and men came to the forest to cut down the second year.

I wonder whether I shall be made into a great vessel now," this one thought.  "I have waited so long.  Now, perhaps I shall do great things of which I have dreamed.

But the little tree did not do great things.  He was not made into a great vessel but instead he became a tiny fishing boat, owned by a simple Galilean fisherman named Peter.  The little boat was most unhappy.  One day he stood by the shores of Lake Gennesaret and pondered, while Peter washed his nets.

"To think that my life has come to this!" he said.  "Just a fishing boat!  And Peter is not even a good fisherman."

But God, who loves little trees, said, "Wait, I will show you something."  And he did.  For...

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