Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a little mouse. Squeaker was a poor mouse, he lived in the walls of the old town church, ate the scraps of food that the church Pastor would leave him, and slept on the hardwood floors blocked up against a corner to keep the howling wind from finding him.
He was alone, once the product of a large family, a recent storm flooded his cozy, warm home in the fields, wiping out his entire family, which left Squeaker the sole remaining heir. He wasn’t used to feeding himself, as his mother used to bring in all the food to their nest, and prepare it for the family.
These last few days had been a real awakening for him. He had to leave the only place he knew, find a place to live, and THEN, search for food. Luckily, Pastor Mike, who was also alone, befriended him and dropped some crumbs for him after every meal.
Squeaker really liked Pastor Mike, sometimes while the Pastor was eating; he would come out of his little hiding place and watch the holy man as he ate. Sometimes, he wondered if the Pastor was as lonely as he was.
The church had been VERY slow these past few weeks. He would watch the parishioners who once attended weekly, now trickle off to just a handful. It had been a while since a smile turned upon the old man’s face.
Once, one night while searching for food, Squeaker noticed the old man darning his socks in the wee hours of the evening. He wondered if Pastor Mike’s downtrodden expression was because life had dealt the holy man the same obstacles that had befallen him.
As the late hours of the eve turned to early morning, sleep overcame both the little mouse and the clergyman. Both Squeaker and Pastor Mike had a very restless sleep. Tossing and turning, their dreams haunted them.
Squeaker awoke, startled to find a man the villagers described as Santa, standing there as plain as day before him. He asked Squeaker, if he had one wish for Christmas, what would it be?
Without thinking, Squeaker remarked that he wished that his friend, Pastor Mike would once again be happy. The kindly old spirit turned to Squeaker and smiled, then disappeared into the night.
Pastor Mike ALSO woke with a start. Before him, ALSO stood a ghostly figure, dressed in red, and a smile that ran from ear to ear. Startled, Mike said, “Who ARE you?” The jolly old man replied, “I am the spirit of Christmas miracles.”
As he had asked Squeaker, the spirit asked Mike what HIS one Christmas wish would be. Again, without hesitation, Mike said that he would like to see his friend, the little mouse, be happy and not have to ever struggle for food. Again, the kindly spirit smiled, and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
Both Squeaker and Mike then fell into a deep fitful sleep. They awoke to the sound of bells ringing across town. Christmas had come, and the harmony of the bells rang out so that ALL could hear.
As both Squeaker AND he old man wiped the sleep from their eyes, they noticed a change had taken place. The smell of a great feast came drifting in as both the mouse, and the clergyman rubbed their eyes to believe what had happened.
In the rectory was a huge feast prepared, roast beef with gravy, turkey and all that accompanies it, CHEESES of all sorts, but most of all, a note left to both Squeaker and Pastor Mike.
It read: “For your gifts of unselfishness, I have provided unto you. Now, go and enjoy, today, and always.” Huge smiles crossed their faces as they both ate till they were full.
Later that day, Pastor Mike was blessed with the sounds of his people PACKING that little church as he celebrated and gave thanksgiving. Mike and Squeaker never wanted for anything again, and all because of some Christmas Magic.
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