his living room, put the candles on the tree and that is how we got the lights.”
Maria smiled and looked up at their tree. She loved Christmas. The tree made the drab days of winter just outside their little home a lot brighter. “Do you know any more stories?” she asked.
“I know two more,” Clara continued.
“One about a man named Saint Boniface. Saint Boniface was an English missionary and was out walking when he came upon some men about to cut a huge oak tree as a stake for a human sacrifice to their pagan god. With one mighty blow, Saint Boniface chopped down the tree and a beautiful young fir tree sprang from the center. He told the men that its branches were pointing to heaven.
My last story to tell you is about a poor woodsman. He was walking home one night when he came upon a hungry child. Even though he was very poor himself he gave the child food and shelter for the night. When he awoke the next morning he rose to find a sparkling tree outside his house. The child was really the Christ child in disguise. And the tree was a gift as a reward for his charity.”
Maria smiled again as the thought of her own Christmas tree warmed her.
“Before you were born and I was very young, there were these things called Paradise Plays.” Clara said.
“They were plays showing parts of the Bible. And they had things in them like evergreens and apples, wafers and things like we are using right now. They were plays of the Garden of Eden and Adam and Eve. The apples were the fruit and they would play out the story every year on December 24th.”
Clara paused, and then frowned a little. “But a little while after the people in the plays became very rude. And the Catholic Church didn’t think the plays were