High up in heaven, lulled by the steady tingling of berry bells, and the
heavenly anthem of the angels, Gabriel had just fallen into a cozy snooze
within the featherbed of clouds. By his side was his trusty horn, dangling
on his little finger, hovering over eternity. It was his favorite, (and
only) possession.His slumber was disturbed by a loud booming voice that said, "Gabriel! Wake up! The time has come! Raise the call and line up the angel brigade!"
Gabriel leapt up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Finally! They had been waiting over 2,000 years for God to finally find the perfect time and place to bestow the savior on the world. The Messiah!
As Gabriel flew to arouse the sleeping brigade, his chest puffed out with pride. God had chosen HIM to lead the brigade, on this all-important mission. But he couldn't stop wondering what this Messiah would look like. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really know what God looked like. A warm light, maybe. A very comforting presence. But God seemed ageless, sexless.
By the time Gabriel reached the moon, where the brigade often went camping,
sleeping in the cosy craters, God had already reached them, and was explaining
their mission. He heard the end of God's speech "....And after you have
picked the largest star from the Milky Way, and placed it above the manger,
tell the shepherds grazing on the grassy green, about ten miles out of
the city. Tell them about the birth, but tell no one else."
"What?" said Gabriel, astonished beyond the point of remembering it's not respectful to interrupt God, "You're only going to tell a few lowly shepherds about this?"
"Gabriel," God said gently, "weren't you just a 'lowly" shepherd once?" God let this sink in. "Now, I want you to sound the call, and while the angels take over planting the star, I want you to put this in Mary while she sleeps."
"What is it?" ventured Gabriel.
"It's the soul of the Messiah," God said, holding out a small bundle, that fairly radiated goodness.
Gabriel took it as gently as if it had been glass. His face registered wonderment, as he stared enchanted into the face of a plump beaming baby.
"He's beautiful, isn't he?" God said, staring down at the baby with more love and pride than Gabriel had ever experienced before.
"Take him, Gabriel." God said, longingly, softly whispering in the baby's ear, before handing him to the archangel. "Now blow, Gabriel, and announce the birth of the Messiah. My son."
As the brigade lined up and God looked on, Gabriel picked up his beloved horn, and cradling the baby, blew the most beautiful song ever heard on heaven or earth. For God, for himself, and for the tiny baby sleeping in his arms.
April Sizemore-Barber wrote this scene for a Youth Christmas presentation at Seekers Church, Washington DC.