Elaine Faber

Feral cats lived in the bushes next to my worksite. I watched the Mama Cat grow heavy with kittens. She eventually came to me, knowing she would be fed.

And then I saw them—three skinny, hungry little waifs, with sticky eyes nearly closed with infection. I crawled under the bushes, trying to catch them. “Here kitten, kitten.”

And the rose-colored kitten came to me. I placed her in a box and went back for the other two.

“Here, kitten, kitten.” I crawled further under the bramble bushes.

How could they know how different their lives would be if they came to me? How could they know there would be catnip toys, three meals a day, no fleas, and a warm bed.

"Here, Kitten, kitten."

I had the tortoiseshell kitten by the scruff of her neck and placed her in the box next to her sister. The box trembled as they scratched toward the top. Their mewing became more insistent as I crawled further into the bushes, trying to reach the black baby. Lord knows I tried, but I couldn't catch him. My fingers brushed the tips of his soft fur as he disappeared into the bushes. I had to leave him behind.

Months have passed and the rose-colored kitten and her tortoiseshell sister scamper through the house, frolic up and down the cat pole, sprawl across my lap and kick and fight each other in mock battle. At night they curl together on a soft bed with tummies full of kitten Friskies and dream of catnip mice.

“Here kitten, kitten.”

They hear my voice and run to me, reaching their little feet up my leg, begging to be picked up, purring with delight as I rub their little heads. They don’t remember the day I left their brother behind. But I do.

And I think of him, living in the bushes, perhaps hungry, perhaps sick, never knowing the joy of a human touch. And I think about the moment he chose to run from me. How could he know that running away would alter his life?

He’s still there, they tell me, those who catch a glimpse of him. He’s a feral cat now, hungry, ragged, one of the untouchables, frightened at the sound of a human voice.

That little black cat represents all the suffering in the world I have no power to change. I think of all the sick bodies I cannot heal, the hungry mouths I cannot feed, those living in oppression I cannot free.

That little cat has a body I could heal, a mouth I could feed, and a life I could make joyful. And, so, from time to time, I return to the bushes, and call, hoping one day he will respond.

“Here kitten, kitten. Please come to me. Let me change your life…”

****

How like that kitten we are, when our Lord calls and we turn away and run, searching for something, not knowing what we seek. Like the black kitten, frightened of what we don’t believe or can’t understand, we run, unwilling to surrender.

Jesus promises to forgive our sins. He promises eternal life and comfort in time of sorrow. He offers a personal relationship with our Him and His Heavenly Father.

Jesus calls, “Come to me, Kitten, Kitten. Trust me and I will show you a better life. Follow Me, and I will fill your life with joy and peace.”

Many hear His call but turn away. And still Jesus calls. “Here Kitten, Kitten. Please come.”

The days grew shorter, the nights longer, and the whisper of leaves on the attic roof awakened each Christmas tree bird wrapped in tissue paper. Something called to them, until they wiggled with joy, crinkling their crepe paper walls. Soon, each Christmas bird ornament would be lifted from his crinkly paper bed where he had slept all year.

The Christmas birds felt a thrill from their springy wire clips and gold porcelain bodies to their bright feather tails. The littlest Christmas bird lay warm and snug beneath Gold Bird. Soon he would be on the Christmas tree with his fragile glass friends and the others…the round ones with bright colored paint. They were not nearly as beautiful as his Christmas bird friends with their springy wires, delicate glass and pinchy clips that clasped them firmly to each branch. All his friends were lovely, but in his heart, he felt he was the most beautiful Christmas tree bird.

He closed his little red eyes and dreamed of Christmas Eve. He would feel truly alive looking down at the family on Christmas Eve. “I’ve been thinking,” he whispered to Gold Bird in a trembling voice. “You are lovely, but you know, I’m the most beautiful one.

Gold Bird’s tail feathers quivered. “Old blue glass bird was hand-blown in Germany and has a Peacock feather tail. Antique bird is missing tail feathers, but you can see right through him. We are all unique and just as beautiful as you.” His tail feathers shook as he scolded the young bird.

“That may be true,” said the saucy little bird. “But, the tree wouldn’t be perfect if I’m not right near the top.”

Older and wiser Gold Bird, turned away. “You’re missing the true meaning of Christmas. It would serve you right to be left behind.”

The Christmas bird trembled. “It’s not that you’re not handsome, but my tail feathers are fluffier, and…my…paint is─”

“Tut tut. Not…another…word.”

Gold Bird’s words haunted him. “It would serve you right …” Not to be on the Christmas tree? He could not bear the thought.

A soft sprinkle of snow blanketed the roof. The wind whistled past the attic. Early one morning, their box was carried down the stairs. “Soon we’ll be on the Christmas tree,” the little Christmas bird whispered to Gold Bird.

One by one, the Christmas birds were lifted from the box. His friends squealed as they were hung on the tree. He heard music and children laughing. He even smelled cookies!

He whispered to Gold Bird. “It must nearly be my turn” … but Gold Bird’s fluffy tail no longer tickled his nose. The box was tossed into the corner. “What happened? I’m still here.” A tiny plastic tear formed in his little red eye. His tissue paper bed was now a prison, his beautiful body swaddled in crinkly paper. He heard muffled Christmas sounds. “I was conceited and proud, and I’ve been left behind.”

On Christmas Eve, the family gathered to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Alone in the box, the Christmas bird imagined his friends high in the tree branches. “The round ones are not as beautiful as me,” he cried,” but they are on the tree, and I’ve been left behind.”

After supper, the family gathered near the Christmas tree. The little girl read from the Bible. “They wrapped Him in swaddling clothes and lay Him in a manger.”

The little bird imagined the tiny baby sung and warm, lying in a manger, warmed by the breath of the animals. “I’m wrapped in swaddling clothes, like baby Jesus.” Daddy told how Jesus came as a tiny baby, and if we loved and trusted Him, we would never be left behind. The Christmas bird thought, “I was left behind. How much worse, to be left behind from Heaven.”

Suddenly, the crinkling tissue paper in his box lifted and the  warmth from the fireplace warmed his delicate glass body.

“Look, Mommy! It’s another Christmas birdie. He has a red tear in his eye. Can we hang him on the Christmas tree?”

Daddy lifted her up to hang the little bird near Gold Bird. The joyous Christmas bird watched the family open gifts. The spicy aroma of gingerbread was in the air. Christmas bird wiggled with joy as the family sang carols. At last, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Gold Bird swung around from a nearby branch. “Welcome to Christmas, little one. Did you learn anything?”

The red tear in his eye shimmered in the light from the fireplace. “I understand,” he whispered. “Christmas is not about who is most beautiful, who has the brightest springy clip or feather tail. It’s not even about carols or turkey dinner, or who gives the most expensive gifts. The true meaning of Christmas is the greatest gift of all, God’s gift to us, the birth of Jesus. When we accept His love and sacrifice, and believe in Him, we will never be left behind.”

And with the lesson learned, for years, the brightly colored Christmas bird with his springy clip and feather tail was never left behind again.

The days grew shorter, the air crisper, the nights longer, and the whisper of leaves on the roof began to awaken each Christmas tree bird in their tissue paper in the attic. Something sang to them, called to them, until they wiggled with joy, crinkling their crepe paper walls. Soon, each Christmas bird ornament would be lifted from his crinkly paper bed where he slept since last Christmas.

As the year neared its end, the Christmas birds felt a thrill from their springy wire clips and gold porcelain bodies to their bright feather tails. The littlest Christmas bird lay warm and snug beneath Gold Bird. How he anticipated the coming holiday season. Soon he would be on the Christmas tree with his fragile glass friends and the others…the round ones with bright colored paint. They were not nearly as beautiful as his Christmas bird friends with their springy wires, delicate glass and pinchey clips that clasped them firmly to each branch. And though all his friends were lovely, he felt he was the most beautiful Christmas tree bird in the attic.

He closed his little red eyes and dreamed about Christmas Eve. From the top of the tree, he would look down upon the family gathered by the fireplace. Being part of the Christmas celebration made him feel truly alive. “I’ve been thinking,” he whispered in a trembling voice filled, “You are lovely, Gold Bird, but, in truth, I am the most beautiful Christmas bird.”

Gold Bird’s tail feathers quivered. “Really? Blue glass bird is made of hand-blown glass from Germany, with a fine blue feather tail. Antique bird is missing some tail feathers but he is so fragile, you can see right through him. We all have unique qualities, and all are as beautiful as you.” He fairly shook as he scolded the young bird wrapped beneath him in pink tissue.

“It may be true what you say,” said the saucy little bird. “But, the tree won’t be nearly as beautiful if I’m not right near the top.”

Gold Bird, being older and wiser, turned his head. “You obviously don’t understand the true meaning of Christmas. You don’t deserve to be included in the holiday events. You conceited fellow, it would serve you right if you got left behind this year.”

The Christmas bird trembled. The idea of being left behind scared him a bit. With a slight tremble, he said, “That couldn’t happen, could it? It’s not that you aren’t handsome, but my tail feathers are longer and softer and fluffier than yours, and…my…paint is much shinier.”

“Tut tut,” replied Gold Bird. “Not…another…word.”

For several uncomfortable days, the little bird lay silent in his cocoon of crinkly paper. Gold Bird’s warning haunted him. “You conceited fellow, it would serve you right …” Not to be there on Christmas Eve? He could not bear the thought.

The days grew shorter and a soft sprinkle of snow blanketed the roof. The wind whistled past the attic and the dark days edged toward December. Early one morning, footsteps on the attic steps awakened the Christmas birds. They held their breath, as their box was lifted from the shelf and carried down the stairs. “It’s time! Soon we’ll be on the Christmas tree,” the little Christmas bird whispered to Gold Bird.

One by one, the Christmas birds were lifted from the box. The young Christmas bird lay wrapped in his soft tissue wrapping. He heard the squeal as his friends were hung on the tree. He faintly heard music and children laughing. He even smelled the cookies!

“It’s almost time,” he whispered to Gold Bird. “It’s nearly my turn.”…but Gold Bird’s fluffy tail no longer tickled his nose. The ornament box was tossed into the corner; empty, except for the little Christmas bird. “Wait! What happened? I’m still here.” Overlooked in mother’s haste, he was left behind. His comfortable bed, now a prison, his beautiful body still swaddled in crinkly tissue paper. Muffled Christmas sounds reached his ears. A tiny plastic tear formed in his little red eye. “I was conceited and proud, and now I’ve been left behind.”

Christmas Day approached and he missed the entire Christmas season, alone in the box in the corner. On Christmas Eve, the family gathered to celebrate the birth of Jesus. The Christmas tree bird lay in his box, imagining the tree with his friends hanging on its branches. Even the scorned round ones were part of the celebration. “The round ones may not be as beautiful,” he lamented,” but they are on the tree, and I’ve been left behind.”

After supper, the family gathered by the Christmas tree. The little girl read from the Bible. “They wrapped Him in swaddling clothes and lay Him in a manger.”

Christmas bird thought, “I’m wrapped in swaddling clothes, like the baby Jesus,” and he imagined the tiny baby sung and warm, lying in a manger, warmed by the breath of the surrounding animals. He heard the daddy tell how Jesus came to earth as a tiny baby, and if we loved and trusted Him, He would take us to heaven and we would never be left behind.  The Christmas bird sniffed, “I know what it’s like to be left behind. How much worse it would be, to be left behind from Heaven.” Then, his box jiggled, the crinkling tissue paper lifted away and the warmth from the fireplace touched his cheek.

The little girl lifted Christmas bird from his box. “Look, Mommy! It’s another Christmas birdie. He has a red tear in his eye. Can we hang him on the Christmas tree?”

Daddy lifted her and she hung the little bird near Gold Bird. Looking down from the tree, the joyous Christmas bird felt the love in the room as the family shared gifts with one another. Carols played on the stereo. The spicy aroma of gingerbread drifted in from the kitchen. The family laughed and sang. Christmas bird wiggled with joy. At last, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Gold Bird swung around from a nearby branch and gave him a tender glance. “Welcome to Christmas, little bird. Did you learn anything?”

The light from the fireplace reflected the tear in his eye, shimmering like a drop of gold. “I understand,” he whispered. “Christmas is not about who is most beautiful, who is round or who has the brightest springy tail. It’s not about carols or turkey dinner or gingerbread, or even about presents under the tree. The true meaning of Christmas is God’s love for us with the birth of Jesus. When we accept His love and believe in Him, we will never be left behind.”

The statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro was recently voted to be one of the modern Seven Wonder of the World, alongside the much older Colosseum in Rome and the Great Wall of China.

It’s no wonder, when you consider that the colossal statue of Jesus Christ is the fifth largest statue of Jesus in the world. It is situated at the summit of Mount Corcovado in Rio de Janeiro, itself 2,319 feet high. The statue is 98 feet tall. It’s horizontally outstretched arms span 92 feet. It weighs over 1,400 tons, The statue is made of reinforced concrete clad in a mosaic of thousands of triangular soapstone tiles, and sits on a square stone pedestal base about 26 feet high.

Funds to build the statue were originally raised privately, principally by members of the Catholic Church following WWI and the separation of Church and State. It was not built as a Catholic idol, but rather a reminder to the citizens of Rio de Janeiro that she should not abandon Christianity. Jesus’ outstretched arms signify peace and acceptance to all who dwell in or visit the city.

Additional fascinating facts about the statue include:

The overall statue was designed by Heitor de Silva Costa. Paul Landowski is credited for the design of the head and hands. Landowski commissioned fellow Parisian sculptor, Gheorgehe Leonida, to sculpt the hands and face.

Construction of the statue started in 1922 and took nine years to complete. It was dedicated on October 12, 1931.

The inner framework is made of concrete, and outer layers are composed of mosaic tiles. All the construction materials and the workers were transported to the top of the mountain by a cog-wheel train. They had to prepare the cement on site with water from a fountain that was 984 feet away from the scaffolding.

Workers who made the mosaic tiles frequently wrote on the back, meaning Christ the Redeemer is littered with hidden messages…most likely prayers.

The statue was built in pieces and then assembled and transferred to the top of Mount Corcovado. (See pictures in the link below)
The stones used came from Sweden.

A chapel inside the pedestal can hold over 150 people.

Originally, visitors walked up 200 steps to reach the base of the statue. In more recent decades, escalators and elevators were added for the benefit of tourists making the pilgrimage. (Please check out the link below for fascinating pictures of the construction as well as beautiful photos from current days.)

The statue is visible from anywhere in Rio de Janeiro due to its commanding height.

Construction costs at the time were equivalent to $3,300,000 in 2015 dollars.

For more information and multiple pictures of the stature during construction and currently, copy and paste:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3740325/ How Christ-Redeemer-statue-came-dominate-Rio-skyline-Fascinating photos -iconiic-statue-built-story-it.html@ixzz4Piq2B4W4

Wouldn’t it be a grand vacation to visit Rio and view this awesome landmark?