Juanita was a little girl who lived in the small village of San Pancho, Mexico
hundreds of years ago. Juanita's family were farmers and they were very poor. As
Christmas approached Juanita's mama and papa became sick and Juanita had to help
care for her little brother and sister. There was much work to be done and young
Juanita did her best to cook and clean and help with the burro in the fields.
All the people of the village were decorating the church and making special
gifts to give to the Christ Child on Christmas Eve.
Everyone would take part in the Christmas Eve procession, singing and carrying
candles. Then Padre Gonalez would place the figure of the Baby Jesus in the
manger and the villagers would put their special gifts around the manger.
Juanita had tried to weave a colorful blanket for the Christ Child, but she was
to little and the yarns became tangled. She tried to sew little leather boots
for her gift, but the leather was too tough and she was not strong enough to
push the needle through. She tried to think of something very special that her
family could give to the Baby Jesus, but with mama and papa sick and her younger
brother and sister to small to help, she could think of nothing. At last it was
Christmas Eve. All of the village was ready to form the procession, the candles
were lit, the singing began as the villagers walked through San Pancho carrying
their gifts to place at the manger.
Juanita hid in the darkness, watching with tears in her eyes as the procession
went to the church.
Suddenly an old man stepped from the shadows nearby. "Little girl, are you
Juanita?" He said. "Si," answered Juanita, wondering who he could be. "I have a
message for you. Your mama and papa are going to get well soon. So do not worry.
Go to the church and celebrate Christmas with the other villagers. Your brother
and sister are waiting for you." "I can't," Juanita told him. "I don't have a
gift for the Baby Jesus. I tried and tried to make something but I couldn't
finish it."
"Ah, Juanita, don't you know that any gift is beautiful because it is given.
Whatever you give, the Baby Jesus will love, because it comes from you." "But
what can I give?" And Juanita began looking around. She saw a big patch of green
weeds nearby. Juanita rushed over and picked a huge armful. Then turned to the
old man. But he was gone. Juanita walked into the church. All of the candles
were blazing, the children were singing as she walked down the aisle with her
bundle of green weeds. "What is Juanita carrying?" The villagers whispered.
"She's bringing weeds into the church!" Juanita placed the green weeds all
around the manger. Then she bowed her head and prayed. A hush fell over the
church. Voices whispered, "Look!, Look at the weeds!" Juanita opened her eyes.
Each weed was topped with a flaming red star. And when everyone went outside
after the Mass, all the bunches of tall green weeds throughout the town were
shining with red stars. Juanita's simple gift had become beautiful.
And every Christmas to this day, the red stars shine on top of the green
branches in Mexico. The people call the Plants la Flor de Nochebuena. The flower
of the Holy Night - the poinsettia. When we first heard the Mexican legend of
the poinsettia, our whole family was touched by it as only Christmas can touch.
This Mexican wildflower is known by many names in Mexico: flor de fuego (fire
flower), flor de Navidad (Christmas flower), and flor de la Noche buena (flower
of the Holy Night.) The poinsettia came to the United States through Dr. Joel
Roberts Poinsett, who served as the nation's minister to Mexico from 1825 to
1830. He was fascinated with its beauty and called the plant "painted leaves",
because the part often thought of as the flower actually consists of leaves
surrounding a smaller flower portion. He took cuttings home to South Carolina
when he returned from Mexico in 1830. The Christmas plant, which we call
poinsettia after Dr. Poinsett, found its way into our own Christmas traditions,
and nothing seems to say "Merry Christmas" better than a beautiful red and green
poinsettia.
Author unknown. If anyone has a proprietary interest in this story please
authenticate and I will be happy to credit, or remove, as the circumstances
dictate.
Thanks to Sherry's Inspirational list
smkeith@aol.com
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