This message is from: "Warren Stockwell" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Your right Pamela have a box of Kleenex!!!! What a beautiful and appropriate story. Thank You from my heart. Roberta ----- Original Message ----- From: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <fjordhorse@angus.mystery.com> Sent: Wednesday, December 18, 2002 2:06 PM Subject: A Christmas Story > This message is from: [EMAIL PROTECTED] > > My email group of 30-odd horsewomen had this story. It is definitely worth > sharing with this crowd. :) Oh, yes. Have some kleenex handy. > > > The young couple had made their usual hurried, pre-Christmas > > visit to the little farm where their elderly > > parents lived with their small herd of horses. The farm had > > been named Lone Pine Farm because of the huge pine > > which topped the hill behind the farm, and through the years > > had become a talisman to the old man and his > > wife, and a landmark in the countryside. > > > > The old folks no longer showed their horses, for the years > > had taken their toll, but they sold a few foals each > > year, and the horses were their reason for joy in the > > morning and contentment at day's end. > > > > Crossly, as they prepared to leave, the young couple > > confronted the old folks. "Why do you not at least dispose > > of "The Old One". She is no longer of use to you. It's been > > years since you've had foals from her. You should > > cut corners and save where you can. Why do you keep her > > anyway?" The old man looked down as his worn > > boot scuffed at the barn floor and his arm stole defensively > > about the Old One's neck as he drew her to him and > > rubbed her gently behind the ears. He replied softly, "We > > keep her because of love. Only because of love." > > > > Baffled and irritated, the young folks wished the old man > > and his wife a Merry Christmas and headed back > > toward the city as darkness stole through the valley. So > > it was, that because of the leave-taking, no one > > noticed the insulation smouldering on the frayed wires in > > the old barn. None saw the first spark fall. None but > > the "Old One". > > > > In a matter of minutes, the whole barn was ablaze and the > > hungry flames were licking at the loft full of hay. > > With a cry of horror and despair, the old man shouted to > > his wife to call for help as he raced to the barn to > > save their beloved horses. But the flames were roaring now, > > and the blazing heat drove him back. He sank > > sobbing to the ground, helpless before the fire's fury. > > > > By the time the fire department arrived, only smoking, > > glowing ruins were left, and the old man and his wife. > > They thanked those who had come to their aid, and the old > > man turned to his wife, resting her white head upon > > his shoulders as he clumsily dried her tears with a frayed > > red bandana. Brokenly he whispered, "We have lost > > much, but God has spared our home on this eve of Christmas. > > Let us, therefore, climb the hill to the old pine > > where we have sought comfort in times of despair. We will > > look down upon our home and give thanks to God > > that it has been spared." > > > > And so, he took her by the hand and helped her up the snowy > > hill as he brushed aside his own tears with the > > back of his hand. As they stepped over the little knoll at > > the crest of the hill, they looked up and gasped in > > amazement at the incredible beauty before them. > > > > Seemingly, every glorious, brilliant star in the heavens > > was caught up in the glittering, snow-frosted branches > > of their beloved pine, and it was aglow with star's heavenly > > candles. And poised on its top most bough, a > > crystal crescent moon glistened like spun glass. Never had a > > mere mortal created a Christmas tree such as > > this. Suddenly, the old man gave a cry of wonder and > > incredible joy as he pulled his wife forward. There, > > beneath the tree, was their Christmas gift. Bedded down > > about the "Old One" close to the truck of the tree, was > > the entire herd, safe. > > > > At the first hint of smoke, she had pushed the door ajar > > with her muzzle and had led the horses through it. > > Slowly and with great dignity, never looking back, she had > > led them up the hill, stepping daintily through the > > snow. The foals were frightened and dashed about. The > > skittish yearlings looked back at the crackling, hungry > > flames, and tucked their tails under them as they licked > > their lips and hopped like rabbits. The mares pressed > > uneasily against the "Old One" as she moved calmly up the > > hill and to safety beneath the pine. And now, she > > lay among them and gazed at the faces of those she loved. > > Her body was brittle with years, but the golden > > eyes were filled with devotion as she offered her gift - > > Because of love. > > > > Only because of love. > > > Pamela > <A HREF="http://hometown.aol.com/northhorse/index.html";>Northern Holiday Horses</A>
