Papa Pandreou’s Christmas
A long time ago, in a village far away lived a poor old man named Papa Pandreou. Christmas was coming, and Papa Pandreou had heard in the village that a new king would arrive on Christmas Day. He didn’t know who this king was, or why he should come to this little village, or even if he would get the chance to see him. But Papa Pandreou was worried; he thought that he should have a gift ready to give the new king, but because he was so poor he couldn’t afford one
All through December, as the snow grew deeper, Papa Pandreou turned the problem of the gift over in his mind. Then, one day as he was searching an old cupboard, he found a small pair of shoes which had once belonged to his own little son. “These will be my gift” he said, eyeing them in a dissatisfied way, “they’re not much, but they’re all I have to give”
Christmas Day finally dawned cold and frosty, and Papa Pandreou got up very early, even missing his breakfast in his hurry to take up position by his door so as not to miss the new king when he came. The bitter cold crept into his old bones and all he had was a thin coat to keep the chill out, but still he wouldn’t leave his position
The freezing hours crept by, but the king did not come - the only people Papa Pandreou saw were a few ordinary villagers. First a very poor old man stumbled past the door, looking very hungry. Papa Pandreou suddenly thought of his uneaten breakfast. “Here, friend”, he called out, “come sit with me and have a bite to eat”. The old man thanked him, ate the food and left
Next a young mother walked shivering along the street, covered only with a thin shawl. Papa Pandreou looked over at the blanket he used on his bed to keep warm. “Come here, my dear, and sit by my fire awhile” he said. “You may have my thick blanket to keep out the cold”. The young mother thanked him, and after sitting by the fire awhile, got up and left
Still the snow fell and the bitter wind blew, and still the king did not come - but still Papa Pandreou sat at his place by the door. The only other person he saw was a young boy, limping along because his shoes were old and shrunken. Papa Pandreou looked over at the shoes he had been saving for the king’s gift, which now, sadly, would not be used. “Come here, my boy”, he called to the child, “you must have these to keep the cold from your feet”. The child put the shoes on, and with a lovely smile walked away into the night which had now fallen outside
Papa Pandreou’s old eyes were tired and sad, as he looked at the empty space where the shoes had been. “He didn’t come”, he muttered to himself, “I waited all day, but he didn’t come”. Tired out and cold without his blanket, he fell asleep in his chair
Some time later – Papa Pandreou never knew how long – he was woken by a strange, bright light. In front of him stood a stranger, a fine man with a kind, wise face from whom the light seemed to be coming. “Oh, no”, Papa Pandreou cried, falling to his knees, “you must be the new king, but I seemed to wait in vain, and now I have nothing to give you”
“You did not wait in vain”, said the stranger, “did you not see me when I came to you today? I was hungry and you fed me. I was cold and you gave me shelter. I was poor and you clothed me. Even as you gave to these, the least of my people, so you gave to me”
“Happy Christmas, Papa Pandreou”