Flower of the Nativity
a traditional mexican folktale
retold by Heidi K. Roy
The road was dusty beneath Pablo's feet. He had walked only a few blocks and yet he was weary. His day had begun earlier than usual. He had awakened early in the morning to the clang of pots and pans. And even before his vision became clear, Pablo had remembered -- today is a special day! He had thrown off the covers and hurried to bring in water to help his mother and sister Anita prepare the bread they would share for their Christmas fiesta. He had thought about staying home through the afternoon, to rest and read, but today there was much to do.
Pablo walked along kicking up dirt on the road. As he traveled, he remembered the stories he had heard throughout his youth. He felt like a shepherd or one of the three kings journeying to see the child who was born in the City of David. He looked to the sky searching for stars, but saw none. The sky was still too bright with the day's warm sun.
"A great joy which shall be for all the people . . . ," said Pablo aloud.
"Hey, Pablo, who are you talking to?" interrupted Juan, one of Pablo's schoolmates, suddenly appearing with two other boys Pablo did not recognize.
"Where are you going?" asked one of the other boys.
"We are going to see the nacimiento (the creche) and give our gifts to the Christ Child," exclaimed the other boy.
"I'm going to see the baby as well," Pablo sang out.
"Where is your gift?" asked Juan.
"You have no gift?" questioned one boy.
"You cannot go!" cried the other.
Pablo dropped his head and stared at his tired, dirty feet. He had no gift. He could not see the baby after all. The boys walked on laughing and dancing, carrying their gifts to the Christ Child: a few coins wrapped securely in a small cloth, a brightly-colored clay pot, a basket of eggs.
Pablo sat down under the branches of a nearby tree to rest before he turned to begin his journey home. Listening to the other boys' laughter retreat into the distance, he picked up a stick that lay near his feet and began to draw in the dirt. He drew a star. . . five points, evenly spaced, almost. He drew a stable with a slanting roof, much like the roof of his own home. He drew the family, Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. And then it came to him. He would go. He would go to see the Christ Child.
Holding his drawing stick tightly, Pablo scurried down the road. The bright day turned to dusk as he neared the church. The lights of the church glowed through the ornate stained-glass windows. Music wafted through the air. The sound of many voices filled the countryside.
Pablo peeked through the door before entering the crowded church. He saw many faces, some familiar, some not, all happy. His eyes searched the room looking for the nacimiento, and came to rest near where a large group of people gathered in whispers. As he neared the place where the people gathered, where the Christ Child lay, Juan and the two other boys approached him.
"What have you there?" one asked.
"A stick! He has a stick for the Christ Child," chanted another.
People turned to look at Pablo and he grasped the stick more tightly. He continued walking closer to the nacimiento, breathing in the smell of fresh straw and burning candles. He looked closely at the manger, the straw, the animals, the family. He looked up to see a carved wooden star and angels trumpeting.
Pablo knelt down and placed his stick gently next to the other gifts that lay before the Christ Child . . . and suddenly, his stick, his drawing stick, sprung forth with a brilliant star-shaped flower -- The Flower of the Nativity, the poinsettia. Pablo smiled brightly and the child almost seemed to smile back. It was Christmas Eve, a joyous Christmas Eve.
Even today, all over Mexico children and adults alike carry Flor de la Noche-buena, Flower of the Nativity, and lighted candles in a Christmas Eve procession to their village churches where the nacimiento shelters the baby Jesus.
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