Tag Archives: spirituality

THE LITTLE #ANGEL WHO COULDN’T SING

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The Little #Angel Who Couldn’t Sing

A History of this story: Many years ago a little boy died only hours after he was born. Benji was Betty’s only child. Betty was an elder who lived with my wife and I until her death from emphysema a few years ago. Like me, Betty was a #writer. Her voice is unique. A couple of weeks before she died, she Gifted all of her work to me. Though #Christianity was Betty’s religion, not mine, we always respected each others’ beliefs.  And I have the greatest respect for Betty’s work.  I hope you enjoy, and share, this beautiful story that Betty wrote. I know she would be pleased.

Written by Betty Matney/edited by Aya Walksfar

Little Angel huddled, shivering and sobbing, in the shadow of a large bank of dirty clouds outside of Heaven’s Gate.  Gusts of cold north wind tugged at his mud-spattered robe and tangled the feathers of his wings, forcing him to burrow deeper into his hiding place.  He knew he should get up and go home, but he couldn’t face his friends.   If it didn’t get any colder, he’d sneak home after dark.

Suddenly, he stopped crying and raised his head to listen.  Voices drifted across the clouds.  He curled into a tighter ball and lay very still.  He didn’t want any of the angels to find him.

A deep voice spoke briskly.  “I tell you I heard someone crying.”

There was a mumbled response Little Angel couldn’t hear very well.

Even closer this time, the deep voice said,  “I know how happy everyone is, but I also know crying when I hear it.”

Whoever it was they were nearly at his bank of clouds.  He covered his head with his wings and held his breath.

Big feet shuffled to a stop and the deep voice said,  “What do we have here?”

He slowly raised his head and peeked over the edge of his wing.  His blue eyes popped wide.  God Himself stood looking down at him.

Holding his long, gray, wind-tossed hair out of His eyes with one hand, He bent over and held His other hand out to the little angel.  “Come out of there, little one.”

He lowered his wing and God pulled him out of his hole.  He stood there, robe wrinkled and dirty, gold halo tilted over his right ear, eyes cast down.  God knelt on one knee.  With a finger under Little Angel’s chin, He lifted his face.  “How old are you, little one?”

He mumbled,  “Seven years old, Sir.”

“So, on the day when joy is almost tearing this old place apart, why are you down here, alone and crying?”  Gently, He wiped the tears away with the end of the green sash wrapped around His waist.

Little Angel bit his trembling lower lip to keep from crying again.

God twisted His head around and looked up at the other adult angel.  “Aren’t all the angels practicing their singing for the performance tonight?”

The other angel looked flustered.  “Yes, Sir.  They are supposed to be, Sir.”

God turned His kindly eyes on Little Angel.  “Does that have something to do with why you’re crying?”

Tears filled his eyes as he nodded.  “I…I can’t…” He sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his robe.  “I can’t sing!”  Tears spilled down his cheeks.  “The chorus master said I can’t carry a tune.  I should just fly around and hum, but I shouldn’t hum too loud.”  He threw his arm across his face and wailed into his sleeve.  “I don’t want to just hum!  I want to do something important like everyone else!”

God sighed and pushed to His feet.  He patted Little Angel on the head.  “Of course, you do.”

He dropped his arm and stared up at God.  God stood there stroking His thick, white beard.  Finally, God smiled.  He reached over and plucked a few pieces of dirty cloud from the little angel’s red curls.  “You go get cleaned up and meet me at the Pearly Gates in an hour.”

As he took off running, God shouted,  “And straighten up that halo!”

***

Little Angel skidded to a halt in front of God, jolting his halo into a tilt over his right ear.

God reached over and straightened it up.  “You look much better, except you seemed to have missed a few spots on your face.”  God ran a thumb over Little Angel’s cheeks.

He giggled.  “Those are freckles.”

God smiled.  “Ah, so they are.”

He fidgeted.

God chuckled.  “Anxious to find out what you’re doing?  Frankly,”  God’s Voice got very serious.  “I don’t know how we overlooked this task.  It is very important.”

He lifted his chin and drew his shoulders back.

“Do you have your sack of stardust?”

He nodded and lifted the small, red velvet sack hanging from the robe’s tie.

God leaned over and whispered in his ear.

His wings drooped.  “The donkey?  That’s a dumb job.”

God frowned.  “Remember who the donkey is carrying.  But, the donkey is small, so it is important that he have some help with his burden.  Will you help him?”

Little Angel looked up at God with wide eyes.  “Yes, sir.”  He took off running towards a hole in the clouds that would let him drop to earth quickly.  Just as he was diving through, God yelled,  “And straighten up that halo!”

***

Little Angel stood on the side of the road leading to Bethlehem.  Overhead a zillion stars shone, but down here it was dark and cold.  He shivered and pulled his wings around himself.

From around a curve in the road hooves clip-clopped along the frozen ground.  The small donkey staggered a few  steps before it caught itself.  A woman wrapped in a blue cape rode the small creature while a man with a staff walked beside them.  The man walked slowly, now and then patting the donkey’s short neck.  “What a brave little beast you are.”

The donkey’s winter coat was long and fuzzy and very black.  Patches of white hair that matched the hair on its belly, filled its long ears.  It was young, not much more than a baby, really.  And so tired that sometimes its nose dragged the ground.

As the three drew alongside Little Angel, the donkey stopped.  The man rubbed its ears and stood beside it.

Little Angel walked over and placed a hand on its halter.  The donkey lifted big dark eyes to him and groaned.  “I don’t know how much longer I can go on.”

“I will help you.”  Little Angel took the red sack from his belt and knelt.  He dipped his fingertips inside.  When he took them out, they shone with silvery powder.  He swiftly rubbed all four hooves with the silvery powder. “Take a few steps and see if that helps.  Bethlehem is just over that hill.” He pointed towards a  small hill in the distance.

The donkey nodded.  “I’ll try.”  As he stepped forward, he added,  “Your halo’s crooked.”

He straightened up his halo as the donkey took the first short, slow steps.  The donkey twitched its long ears and gave a joyful bray.  “My feet don’t hurt!”

Little Angel jogged next to the donkey as it trotted along the road, nimbly skirting the frozen puddles.

Very soon they reached Bethlehem.  Little Angel waited beside the donkey as the man inquired for a room at inn after inn.  Every place was full until, finally, only one inn was left.  The man sagged with fatigue as he walked to the last door.

The donkey sighed as the man stood talking to the landlord.  “I need something to eat and some water and a place to rest pretty soon. My feet are hurting again.”

Little Angel hugged the donkey.  “I’m sure this is the place we are to stop.  There’s a stable out back.”   He turned and looked at the woman sitting quietly on the donkey.  Her body was bent with tiredness.  He was really glad she hadn’t had to walk.  He turned and gave the donkey another hug.  “You are so brave,” he whispered.

The donkey raised his black nose to Little Angel’s ear.  “The woman’s going to have a baby.  I didn’t think she could walk very far, so I had to try to keep walking for her.”  The donkey sighed.  “Did you know about the baby?”

Little Angel scratched the donkey’s ear.  “Yes, I knew about the baby.”

When the man returned, he led the donkey to the stable behind the inn.  He helped the woman off and spread his own cloak over her as she lay down on a pile of straw.  After she was settled, he took the donkey into another stall to feed and water the animal before returning to the woman, his wife.

Little Angel sat in the corner of the stall as the donkey ate and then tucked his legs under himself to lay down.  “Don’t sleep too soundly,” Little Angel cautioned.  “The celebration will be starting soon.”

He had just finished speaking when a baby cried.  Little Angel rushed to the wall and peeked through the space between two boards.  His eyes widened as the man wrapped the baby in a warm blanket and laid it in the manger next to where the woman lay.  The man stood between the manger and the woman, smiling first at one and then at the other.  The woman’s face shone with happiness as she gazed at her husband and then at the Infant Boy.

The donkey stood next to Little angel, staring through the crack.  “She’s had her baby.”

From far away and above them, singing drifted on the air.  The donkey looked up.  “What’s that?”

A grin stretched Little Angel’s face as he looked up, too.  “That is the angels singing to the shepherds out in the hills.  They are telling them to come to the stable and behold the Child that was born.”

He dropped his eyes to the donkey.  “I have to leave now.”

The donkey nodded.  “Thank you.  I don’t know if I could have made it all this way by myself.”

He gave the donkey a warm hug around its shaggy neck.  “Everyone needs help sometimes.”

As Little Angel flew upwards, the donkey called,  “Hey!  Your halo is….”

He raised both hands and straightened his halo as he flew into the night.  In the distance he heard the final chorus and, all alone, Little Angel began to hum.  As he flew higher, his humming grew louder until, unable to contain his joy, he burst into song.  In a loud, happy voice, and slightly off-key, he added his own heavenly welcome to the Baby lying in the manger.

The End

What are some of your favorite Christmas stories/holiday stories? Would love to hear! Leave a comment!

For more information of Aya and her work:

Visit Aya at http://www.facebook.com/ayawalksfar

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Ruby Standing Deer Bestselling Author

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Today I #interview #RubyStandingDeer, the #bestsellingauthor of  #CIRCLES, the first book in her  #NativeAmerica series. The second book, #SPIRALS, has also garnered much praise.  Ruby kindly consented to share her thoughts on books, and on life, with us.

Interviewer: What inspired you to write a series about #NativeAmerica several hundred years ago?

Ruby Standing Deer:  I dream a lot. In this dream, a Native elder sat in a chair across from me. He crossed his arms and started into my eyes. “Why don’t you get off your butt and write a book?” he grinned then faded. I jerked up and asked, “What book?”  No answer.

I started to drift off and only moments later, I heard a woman telling me about herself, and about her grandson. At three AM I found myself sitting in my chair with the laptop open. It did not take long before I had written a chapter, then two.  This is how #CIRCLES was born.

Interviewer: I noticed that your books do not contain explicit sexual content, nor do they have excessive violence.  What moved you to write without the sex and violence when many books today have a lot of both?

Ruby Standing Deer: Sex is a scared, private matter to be shared by a couple. Among my people it was not spoken of. I kept this tradition.

Violence, in ancient North America among the various tribes and clans, was not absent by any means. Many times, however, differences were worked out through talk. Even to garner honor in battle, it was not always necessary to kill the enemy. In fact, it was considered far braver to ‘touch’ an enemy than to outright kill them. It was called coup (pronounced coo).
Today, too many books are filled with violence, revenge and hatred. Isn’t there enough? Must it be that way for entertainment as well? Violence is at the core of many television shows, the news, and in real life, in your neighborhood.  Why must it be in all of the stories we read? Isn’t it enough to enjoy #humor, #spirituality, and just relax and read a good story where death is not the central theme?

Interviewer: I write #mysteries, you know the usual mayhem and #murder, but you’re right. There are times it is nice to sit down with a book that  centers around things other than death and killing, and sex, which often confused with love both in real life and in novels.

Tell me, Ruby, who is your favorite character, and why?

Ruby Standing Deer: Bright Sun Flower and Feather Floating In Water–who becomes known as Shining Light– are two characters who remind me of myself. I am the grandmother and the grandson put in one body. I may not have the powerful dream visions they do, but I do experience dreams, and I listen to the Spirits when they speak.

Bright Sun Flower loves life and so does her grandson. They see so much more than others do by just opening up. She is a teacher, and a guide. Throughout the story she tries to pass on her knowledge to the next generation. Like Bright Sun Flower, I also have dedicated my life to passing on knowledge.

In my books, I try to provide something that many #kids today are without: a connection to #tradition. Unfortunately, most kids spend a lot of time in day care centers and other care centers because both of their parents must work. Grandparents, unlike the old days, are often too far away to interact with the kids, even if they aren’t working out-of-the-home jobs. Consequently, the kids lose that connection to the past, to their own traditions. 

Once kids learned from their grandparents and their parents about sacred things, about everyday ways of looking at the world, about how to value and respect all living things. Times have changed and kids are no longer given that. In my books, I show how it once was and hope that some of the teachings that Feather and Bright Sun Flower share will reach across the pages and touch the kids.

Feather is full of energy, curiosity, and has a lust for life. He has to grow up much faster than a child should. He and I share this, as we also share Feather’s curiosity about life. And, heh, maybe we share his mouth, too.

Interviewer: You have published CIRCLES and the second book of the series, Spirals.  Are you currently working on a third book in this series?  If so, can you give us a “back cover blurb” about it and when you expect it to be released?

Ruby Standing Deer: I am two-thirds finished with STONES, the third book. Part of my childhood was spent on the back of a horse. It was there that I learned what true freedom really meant. STONES became much more than a book for me after reading about a man who raced to the wild horse auction, not to get the best horses for his ranch, but to get the best for the slaughter house. Each fall there are many roundups of these magnificent, beautiful, Sacred animals. Many are pregnant and give birth in the holding pens. Their foals die. The slaughter men call the horses and their young a waste of space.

Interviewer: Wow, that’s sad. It’s my understanding that many of these #wildhorses are grazing on public lands that have been leased for extremely low rates to large ranchers and that is where some of the conflict comes in: the ranchers don’t want the wild horses, a part of America’s heritage, to eat the food from the public lands. They want the grass for their cattle and their horses which then increases their profits.

So, STONES illuminates the slaughter of #wildhorses. What’s the rest of the story?

Ruby Standing Deer: STONES is about more than rescuing mustangs from a band who tracks them down for the hairy-faces (what they call whites in the story). The Hairy-faces don’t want Native People to acquire mustangs as it would increase their ability to resist the influx of the whites.

This story is about the journey of two young people, Singing Stone and Dove, both of whom are following sacred tradition.  Singing Stone is protecting a small herd of  mustangs from the Likes To Fight People and the Hairy-faces (whites so named because of the hair on the men’s faces.)

Far away in the Land of Tall Trees, Dove, the daughter of the Holy Man, Shining Light, dreams of the mustang boy. Through visions, she is told that she must go to Singing Stone and help him protect the #mustangs. Another dream tells her she must hurry for danger is closing in on the mustangs.

Interviewer: Will this third book complete the series, or will it run longer?

Ruby Standing Deer: I am not sure if there will be a fourth book. It depends on where I am led. I listen to my dreams, take long walks with my dogs and set my mind free. It is those times I ‘see’ what to do next.

Interviewer: How did you find your publisher? Did you query a lot of publishers, or find one right away?

Ruby Standing Deer: My editor/publisher, and I were in a writing group together a long time ago. The writing group, we both learned, was a scam. You bought ‘tokens’ from the site’s creators. Then, you took the tokens and bid on people in auctions to have them review your chapter. Unfortunately, except my editor/publisher, there was not one writer in the group.

Interviewer: What piece of advice would you give to new writers about working with a publisher?

Ruby Standing Deer: Find one who will listen to you, not tell you what he/she wants. Indie publishers are more likely to work with you, listen to you and then advise you.

Visit Ruby’s website at:    http://www.rubystandingdeer.com

Connect with Ruby on Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/ruby.deer