THE TIME? It was the morning of the day before Christmas. The place? Africa. The people? A group of dark-skinned children gathered round Sister in the little Catholic school near the mission church. Everybody was so busy getting ready for Christmas! There were the altars to be decorated, the crib to be arranged, and a thousand and one other things to be done. The children helped Sister as only little people can help at such a blessed time.
The dinner hour drew near. Then Sister said, "Go home now, darlings, and get your dinner. And remember, each one is going to give the Christ-Child a present this afternoon, by bringing something to help decorate crib, or church or altar."
Away they went, about fifteen of them, chattering eagerly and planning happily about what they should bring the Savior in the afternoon. Only one tiny girl, Naga, a poor little orphan that was staying in the mission, was not happy. She had no pennies to buy decorations with; she had not even flowers to give. But as Naga's big black eyes watched the other children disappear, a look of joy suddenly sprang into her face and she was unhappy no longer. She knew what she would do!
Sister noticed with joy that Naga was much more helpful and happy than usual that afternoon. The girl even lovingly helped the other children arrange their flowers and candles and similar gifts; she shared in their delight, though she had nothing to give herself. What did I say? She had nothing to give? Oh, yes, she had! In her heart she knew all the while just what she would give and how.
Now, late in the afternoon Sister began to bake altar breads for the coming day. Naga, of course, always helped she loved that work more than any other. First Sister baked the large host for the Mass and placed it on a clean white cloth. Then she baked the smaller hosts for Holy Communion.
But what was Naga doing back there? Sister turned around just in time to see her reverently take the large host in both her little hands and give it a long, sweet, lingering kiss.
"Why, Naga!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?" Didn't I tell you often that the unconsecrated host is only a little wafer of bread? It is not Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament until, during Mass, at the altar, the priest speaks over it the sacred words, 'This is My Body.' "
"O Sister, I know. But it is my Christmas Gift to Jesus, my Christmas kiss. I have nothing else to give Him, so I placed it upon the host in order that when He comes tomorrow He may find it there. Did I do wrong, Sister?" And she gazed into Sister's face in innocent pleading.
"No, no," said Sister gently, as she lovingly drew the little darky girl's head to her breast, "you did no wrong, darling. He will surely find it there."
The next morning when the priest raised the Sacred Host aloft at elevation, during the beautiful Christmas Mass, one little girl in church looked upon It with the love-light of heaven in her eyes. She knew He had found it.
Found it? What? Why, Naga's Christmas kiss!
Source; Tell us Another- Imprimatur; 1925
The dinner hour drew near. Then Sister said, "Go home now, darlings, and get your dinner. And remember, each one is going to give the Christ-Child a present this afternoon, by bringing something to help decorate crib, or church or altar."
Away they went, about fifteen of them, chattering eagerly and planning happily about what they should bring the Savior in the afternoon. Only one tiny girl, Naga, a poor little orphan that was staying in the mission, was not happy. She had no pennies to buy decorations with; she had not even flowers to give. But as Naga's big black eyes watched the other children disappear, a look of joy suddenly sprang into her face and she was unhappy no longer. She knew what she would do!
Sister noticed with joy that Naga was much more helpful and happy than usual that afternoon. The girl even lovingly helped the other children arrange their flowers and candles and similar gifts; she shared in their delight, though she had nothing to give herself. What did I say? She had nothing to give? Oh, yes, she had! In her heart she knew all the while just what she would give and how.
Now, late in the afternoon Sister began to bake altar breads for the coming day. Naga, of course, always helped she loved that work more than any other. First Sister baked the large host for the Mass and placed it on a clean white cloth. Then she baked the smaller hosts for Holy Communion.
But what was Naga doing back there? Sister turned around just in time to see her reverently take the large host in both her little hands and give it a long, sweet, lingering kiss.
"Why, Naga!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?" Didn't I tell you often that the unconsecrated host is only a little wafer of bread? It is not Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament until, during Mass, at the altar, the priest speaks over it the sacred words, 'This is My Body.' "
"O Sister, I know. But it is my Christmas Gift to Jesus, my Christmas kiss. I have nothing else to give Him, so I placed it upon the host in order that when He comes tomorrow He may find it there. Did I do wrong, Sister?" And she gazed into Sister's face in innocent pleading.
"No, no," said Sister gently, as she lovingly drew the little darky girl's head to her breast, "you did no wrong, darling. He will surely find it there."
The next morning when the priest raised the Sacred Host aloft at elevation, during the beautiful Christmas Mass, one little girl in church looked upon It with the love-light of heaven in her eyes. She knew He had found it.
Found it? What? Why, Naga's Christmas kiss!
Source; Tell us Another- Imprimatur; 1925
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