They shared with others... by Kenneth S Bennion

The raw November wind whipped needles of snow as it funneled between the old college buildings. The custodian, hurrying to work in the early morning, pulled tight the turned-up collar of his thin overcoat and bent his head to the wind.

A businessman parked his car and then paused to watch the man as he brought out a scoop shovel and began to clear the walks. Then the executive went on to his office. In a few minutes the phone rang in the office of the school administrator. "I'm Brother Lewis of the publications office. I watched your custodian this morning. He was wearing a very thin overcoat. Do you think that is the best coat he has for the winter?"

"Probably so," was the answer. "I have seen him wear no other."

"All right," said the official. "I have a coat that is slightly worn. It is really too heavy for me. I'll bring it to your office tomorrow."

The next day, when he brought the coat he said, "Tell him it is his to keep--- the coat and whatever is in it. But don't tell him where it comes from. I pass him every day and I don't want him to feel under any obligation when he sees me."

Later, the custodian tried on the coat and beamed with satisfaction when he noted its quality, the way it fit around his throat and the warm, heavy lining. He thrust his hands into the pockets and in surprise, pulled out a five dollar bill.

"Look at this!" he cried. "I must find out who gave me the coat so I can return the money."

He was reassured that the money was purposely left there for him. Smiling with happiness, he wore the coat away, his money clutched in his hand. Here were gifts to help keep him warm through the long months ahead. The man who gave the coat was also glowing with a new warmth, because he had provided comfort for a man who needed it.

The Cobbler and his Guest by Anne McCollum Boyles

The once lived an old shoemaker, loved and honored by his neighbors, who affectionately called him Father Martin. One Christmas Eve, as he sat alone in his little shop he said to himself " If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if this Jesus were to be born this night, I know what I would give him!" He arose and removed two tiny shoes of the softest snowwhite leather with bright silver buckles. "I would give him these, my finest work." Than he reflected, "But I am a foolish old man, the Master has no need for my poor gifts."

He replaced the shoes, blew out his candle and went to bed. As he closed his eyes he heard a voice call, "Martin, you have wished to see me. Tomorrow I shall pass by your window. If you see me and bid me enter, I shall be your guest at your table."

Father Martin did not sleep for joy. Before dawn he rose and swept and tidied up. He used his finest linen table cloth and placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey and a pitcher of milk upon it. Than he sat vigily by the window.

A cold, old street sweeper passed by blowing his thin, gnarled hands. Father Martin invited him in to warm himself and have something hot to drink. The man gratefully accepted.

An hour passed and a young, miserably clothed woman, carrying a baby paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his door. He flung open the door and asked her in. He fed her and warmed her and her child and gave his finest leather shoes to the infant. Giving her two sous, he sent her on her way tearful with gratitude.

Another hour passed and many people came and went from Father Martin's that day. However the expected guest did not arrive.

"It was only a dream," he sighed. Suddenly, to his weary eyes the room flooded with light. To the cobblers astonishment there appeared before him, one by one, the street sweeper, the sick mother and child, and all whom the cobbler had aided that day. Each smiled at him and said, "Have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table? " and than they vanished from view.

Out of the silence Father Martin heard the familiar words: "Whosoever shall receive one such in my name, receiveth me.... for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in.... Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Trouble at the Inn by Dina Donohue

For years now whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a little town in the midwest, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling. Wally's performance in one annual production of the Nativity play has slipped into the realm of legend.

Wally was nine that year and in second grade, though he should have been in fourth. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. However, Wally was well liked by the other children, only causing irritation when he wanted to play ball when winning was important. They would often tell him no, but he would hang around still hoping.

Wally wanted to be the shepherd in the Christmas Pageant that year but the director told him he had a more important role. He was to be the Innkeeper.

And so it happened that the usual, large partisan crowd gathered for the town's annual extravaganza. No one on or off the stage was more caught up in the magic of the evening than Wally. When it came time for Joseph to appear and knock on the wooden door, Wally was there waiting.

"What do you want?" he asked with a brusque gesture, opening the door.

"We seek lodging."

"Seek it elsewhere, the inn is full, " said Wally looking straight ahead and speaking vigorously.

As the conversation continued, and Wally still saying no, the Innkeeper relaxed his stance and looked at Mary. With that there was a long pause, enough to cause the audience embarrassment. "NO! Begone!" the prompter whispered.

"NO!" Wally repeated automatically. "BEGONE!"

As Joseph and Mary departed, the Innkeeper did not return inside the inn. Wally stood there and watched the forlorn couple. He mouth open, his brow creased with concern and his eyes filling with tears. - Suddenly the Christmas Pageant became different from all the others.

"Don't go, Joseph!" Wally called out. "Bring Mary back, you can have my room."

Some people say that the pageant was ruined, yet others -- many, many others --- considered it to be the most Christmas of all Christmas Pageants they had ever seen.