Little Noel-the angel with the broken wing

As Written By Ian von Kuen

On a pale blue and bright morning,
Somewhere high above the darkened, snowy clouds of December

A tiny little angel girl sat silently on a puffy cloud of the purest white,
Looking forward, as the other angel children flew about happily
Chasing, in every direction,
The glitter left behind by the previous evening’s stars

As she sat staring out onto the great, still, and sweet distance of heaven,
She sighed

In heaven, we are told, those who dwell within its space,
Tended to sweetly by the loving hand of God,
Are all perfect

Perfection, in its truest sense is, after all,
What we expect of the place called heaven

Yet, on this day of days, a day of celebration
Reserved solely for the birthday of the king of kings

Little Noel, an angel with the sweetest of faces, sat frowning,
As she held a small and white cottony heart,
Formed with devotion out of the only resource available

A single tear fell from her sweet and dark-brown angelic eye
Rolling slowly down her delicate little face
As she watched patiently the happiness before her

Quickly wiping the tear away with her tender little hand,
She watched, as a bird, as white as the brightest snow,
Flew in, landing safely on the mound of fluffy cotton
Which surrounded her

Suddenly, a great and wonderful chorus of music could be heard
And again she frowned

Trumpets and strings, and the loveliest of voices in every range
Called out to the angel children
As they all giggled loudly, and flew away quickly
Toward the celebration of light

Little Noel stood, and stretched her body toward the music
Pausing for a moment, with a brief smile upon her face,
As she held up her gift,
Before backing down into her seated position upon the so-white cloud

The little angel cried
And as she softly wept
The bird, having witnessed her sadness, sighed, too

“Do not cry.” Said the dove

“Do not weep.” It said, softly cooing beside her on the cloud

Little Noel again wiped her teary eyes, and stared at the bird,
As it stared back toward her with a love so very true

“But here I sit, alone and filled with sadness.” She said softly

The so-white bird stared at her, listening

“I have a broken wing, and cannot fly to be at the side of my father, on this most holy of days.”

And still, the lovely bird stared, tilting its head as it did

“I cannot play with the other angel children. I cannot fly about freely through the sweet-smelling breezes of heaven. My broken wing keeps me here on this lovely cloud, and I’ve no chance of sharing the love I have for my father with him on this day of days. “

Noel looked at the dove, and frowned yet again, as she grabbed her beautiful face, tucking it softly into her arms, which rested upon her knees there on the cloud

Suddenly, Noel felt a love like she had never before felt.
As she lifted her tear-covered face, she looked out into the space of heaven before her

The bit of heaven surrounding her had become suddenly filled
with a multitude of angels,
Floating there with warming smiles for as far as she could see

The lovely music, once enjoyed at a distance, filled the space, and it seemed as if all of the eyes of all of the angels, including the angel children, were now fixed upon her

Noel stood up, still holding tightly to the gift of the cottony heart she had molded for her father with much, much love

And as she did, the so-white bird began to fly around her, as the beautiful choirs of heaven hummed softly a tune of inspirational adoration

“Do not cry.” Said the Father
“Do not weep.” Said the Lord of Lords

“For I am with you always. Your broken wing matters not. Your love for me soars higher than the ablest wing might take you.”

And thus, from that moment on, little Noel flew freely throughout the seasons in the sweet-smelling spaces of heaven

And on the special day of the year, when all of the angel children flew quickly to the celebration of light, as announced by the trumpets and strings, and the lovely voices singing sweetly in every range

Little Noel would fly in
And snuggle in closely to her maker

As he, on his special day, would stand before all of the world
Her love for him, a white and puffy cloud-shaped heart in one hand
And his love for us all in the other

Hark the herald angel’s sing!
Glory to the newborn king!
Peace on earth, and mercy, mild!
God and sinners reconciled!

Peace to all of you during this truly amazing season of light, and most pointedly throughout the New Year- Merry Christmas from Ian

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