Lucifer’s First Christmas

By Janet Allyn

Copyright 1997 by Janet Allyn
Published by Spirit Song Productions

DEDICATED TO THE DIVINE MOTHER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE HOPE
THE FORGIVENESS
THE DESIRE
THE SEARCH
THE TRUST
THE NEED
A FRIEND
A NEW SALVATION
THE RECONCILIATION
A CHOICE
A SELF
APPENDIX
CHRIST GIFT

Chapter 1
THE HOPE

	He raged.  He stormed.  Pacing and flinging things everywhere.  Such anger and helplessness he had never known.  These waves of emotion were running through his body, back and forth from one to the other.
	“What is this?” he shouted to the heavens.  “How could this happen?!!”
	He turned on his heel and stomped out to find relief from his own mind.  He let the night cover his thoughts and he became cold. . .dis-passionate. . .in control again.
	He looked around to see what some of his followers were doing.  It always amused him to watch their antics.  Trying to please him.  Vying for power.  Manipulating each other and all those around.  Worthless activities he knew, yet better than the nothingness he had lived with for centuries.  He was the expert.  The master at filling the void, marking time while searching for the impossible.  He was the reality behind the caricature of that which man calls evil. . .a being without a self.
	He watched them here and there, attempting to buy or steal or copy or collect up selves from others.  Some were even so skilled at playing God, that for awhile, they could make themselves believe they would achieve it, and claim the ultimate Self.  But he alone knew that it was all a useless, wasted effort.  There had never been, nor would there ever be, a self for them.
	That all other beings of earth possessed a self, was to him the one torturous awareness that he had tried to forget.  Yet that one thing he understood was irrevocable, and it would mock and haunt him for all eternity.
	He knew all the ways in which his people would try to deny that it was so.  He’d tried them all himself.  Control, power; magic, even possession.  Nothing he could do would ever render him that most precious presence.
	He was surprised at how many human legends rang true; but none was more stinging than the picture of a vampire standing before a mirror causing no reflection at all to appear in its glass.
	Yet over the ages he had learned to live with this truth.  He had distracted himself in any way that he could, carelessly affecting the lives of others without concern.  He had inflicted all sorts of pain on many.  If he must eternally be in pain, then so would they.  He had deceived and lied to many.  If his life was to be only a deception, then so would theirs.  He had led multitudes down the wrong path.  If he could not ever go Home, then neither would they.  And he had instilled fear in them.  All of them.  That was surely worth something.  It at least proved that he, Lucifer, had power over them all.
	His vengeance was a solid thing.  Cold and persistent.  It was carefully crafted out of each feeling that he had.  He had taken the hurt and grief of being left out from the beginning of time, and turned it over and over into an underlying apathy.  He had taken the terror of the emptiness, and molded it into a calculated rage that made him capable of doing anything without remorse or conscience.  And he had taken his real anger at the injustice of it all, and created such a scheme of manipulation, that it plagued the world with feelings of guilt and self-doubt.  These were his comrades.  His creed.  His self.  These were all that he had, and all that he needed.
	He drew a deep breath and let his mind stop its activity.  A strange warmth crept up from inside him and began to grow.
	“Damnation!” he cried.  “There it is again!”
	How could this happen?!  His defenses had been planned so well!  Who could have cracked them?!  What in the name of hell were they doing?!!
	He thought about all of the places that this disturbance might be coming from.  He looked up.  No.  Nothing that came from there had any affect on him, for there was not even one particle of his being that could allow an opening to something that might come from there.  He let himself scan the human activity around him.  Contrary to popular belief, he did not have the power to know what went on inside people’s minds.  But he was a master at determining their motives based on their actions.  And their 
actions he could see.
	He watched.  He listened.  He saw no new crusades for goodness.  He saw no armies fighting for the right.  He saw nothing that would make any difference to him.  There was no explanation for it.  Yet something had happened.  And it was having an enormous impact on his reality.  It was unidentifiable, yet it was there.  And it was changing him!
	He put himself into a state of quietness and blocked these thoughts from his mind.  Moments of forgetfulness were all that he had ever known of rest, as any real relaxation was impossible to him.  Yet during these moments of silence, he had been able in the past, to achieve a temporary state of relief based on simple ‘non-awareness.’  It was a denial state that seemed to block out the turmoil and the dread.

	But not today.  Today not even this would work.  Because right now, in this very moment, an essence of some kind was creeping into his awareness.  It was like a sort of. . .comfort.  Before he could stop it, its sweetness had surrounded him and moved fully into his consciousness.
	“What is this?!!  Could it be?!  Has. . .has someone forgiven me?!  Who has the right, the audacity to offer this to me?!  Did I ask for it?!!”
	He was a jumble of feelings.  Fury and terror were there again, running into each other and causing him such confusion that he found himself in a frenzy to escape them.  He hurled himself out into space and tried to recapture his sanity.  He could not find it.  He could not get away from this moment, and he could not go back.  He could not deny it, and he could not forget.
	Flying over the waters of the Great Sea, he stirred their depths with his rage.  He flung himself on the flat rock before the mouth of his cave.  The storm howled and the clouds changed shape overhead.  Everything was in turmoil inside of him.  All that he had worked for for so long was lost.  He was ruined. . .
		ruined.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	He lay very still and let this new thing in his heart be known.  He would never again be the same.  He had lost what ground he had gained.  For some unspoken force had begun its work in him and he was not powerful enough to stop it.  He closed his eyes and surrendered.  He surrendered to the way he would feel for the rest of his life.  And he wept.  It was the first time Lucifer. . .had ever felt. . .hope.

Chapter 2
THE FORGIVENESS

	When he came to, Lucifer realized that he had been asleep.  For how long, he did not know--but asleep.  As far as he could remember, he had never slept before, and it was a mystery to him why he should do so now.
	He let his mind go over the events of the recent past.  Oh, yes, he thought, something had happened.  He knew what it was, as sure as he knew that it was his downfall.  He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but he knew.  Someone had forgiven him.  One soul somewhere, somehow, had forgiven him for all that he had ever done, and for all that he might ever do.  They had discovered his secret--had understood that all of the ways that he had acted in the world were because of the devastation brought on him by the knowledge that he did not have a self.  And in one isolated act, they had changed the course of his history forever.
	He knew that he had been rejected in the beginning for what he was.  He knew that he had been rejected by God, and that all of creation had followed suit.  And he knew that he was condemned to live his days in loneliness.  But he had accepted his fate, for he understood that it was the only fate possible for him.
	And now this!  This so-called act of kindness; a devastation to his way of thinking.  It had merely opened up old wounds that he had worked so hard to ignore.  Somehow, someone had torn down the defenses that he had spent centuries building, and had left him vulnerable. . .weak. . .and hoping for something that could never be.
	He didn’t even want to think about it.  What would his people make of him now?  A melancholy old Lucifer responding to this thing as if it mattered or could ever make any difference to him.  Argh!!  He hated this!
	“Let me get my hands on this perpetrator and I’ll fix him.  Who was it anyway?”
	He scanned the human realm again.  He searched for the essence that he had sensed before, trying to determine its source.  He let his awareness move to and fro--now hot, now cold, now hotter--until finally he found that it was coming from a small community on the western coast of The New World, right on the edge of The Great Western Sea.  A woman lived there, who was doing some sort of work on herself.  He activated her soul record so that he could scan her past.  She had been using some inner process to extricate herself from her childhood experiences and the feelings they had left inside of her.  This process consisted of probing her memory and her deeper consciousness, talking to others, reflection, and strange. . .
many hours of crying.
	He scanned forward so that he could see her now.
	He watched and listened.
	Wait!  What was this?  For the first time ever, he was aware of what was going on inside a human person, not because he could see it, but because he could feel it.  He had never been able to do this before.  Why was this time different?
	He paused.
	Perhaps it was her.  Maybe she opened a door that had let him in.  Could that be it?!!
	He was amazed at what he picked up.  He could feel that she had been working on her pain, and that she had been trying to forgive her parents for some evil things they had done to her when she was very small.  He explored further.
	In her search for an alternative to the hatred she felt for her parents, she discovered that they too had had evil acts committed against them.  And what’s more, she realized that she in turn had done some evil things to others in her own distant past.  And while she was dealing with the pain surrounding these events, she discovered a secret.  She discovered that. . .evil deeds are not done because a heart is filled with evil, but they are done because a heart is filled with pain.  And with this knowledge she was able to go forward in her process and forgive her parents. . .and her-self. . .and even. . .
	He stopped.
	Right there next to the forgiveness for herself and her parents, was a little place of forgiveness for him!  Lucifer!  It was as if she had somehow taken her forgiveness to the uttermost.  And since he was it, he was forgiven!  He was accepted no matter what terrible things he might have done.  They didn’t matter.  Nothing did.  Only the forgiveness.
	Ooooh!  The turmoil!  The helplessness!  He wanted to smash something.  He wanted to grab her by the neck and squeeze the life out of her.  He flung his rage this way and that.  A truck overturned on a freeway.  A roof fell in on a construction sight.  A fire started in a factory.  What could he do?  How could he stop this thing that had happened?  How could he stop what she had done?  He raced to his cave, a huge storm whirling in his wake.  
	But as he arrived, his movements slowed down, and he sank deep into the darkness.  He knew that his fury was useless.  There was nothing to do now.  It was done.  He was afraid that forgiveness. . .once offered. . .

could never be revoked.

	In the face of this lady’s action, Lucifer could no longer find his old defenses--the ones that had protected him for so long.  He could find neither his grudges nor his vengeance; not his rage or his manipulation.  No, in their place seemed to be something different:  a budding little hope.  A hope that he could not subdue.  It was like one of those little wild flowers that grow in a crack in the cement on a ghetto street. . .persistent and courageous.  It would not be ignored and it would not be forgotten.
	It had started a chain reaction that was so powerful, he could feel it inside him now every second.  His apathy was turning to a strange kind of excitement.  Maybe there really could be something different for him.  He wanted to talk about this to someone. . .to his followers. . .his fragments. . .
to everybody.  He wanted to share. . .to celebrate!
	But he also had a nagging feeling of uncertainty.  Perhaps none of this would last.

Chapter 3
THE DESIRE

	Over the next few weeks he was up and down, elated and depressed.
	At times he was sure.  “There is some reason for me to hope.”
	At other times he knew it was a cruel joke, a fluke, and nothing would come of it.  It would disappear as quickly as it had come.
	But no matter what state he found himself in, the forgiveness lady did not waiver.  She never changed her mind or her heart.  And when he checked in periodically, the forgiveness was right there where he had found it.  She seemed to feel that he, Lucifer, was acceptable right now, just as he was.  She had no fear of him.  It was as if she didn’t know about all that he had done and been.  And she didn’t bother about comparisons or judgments.  He wondered what strange magic she possessed and where she had found it.  He tried to understand what she knew, but he could not, because it was a mystery to his mind.
	But he could still feel what she felt for him:  forgiveness and a kind of acceptance.  And these were the breeding ground for his new-found hope.  They sustained it and kept it alive.
	He wept often during these times, for the sheer joy of possibilities; for the sorrow of his past; and for the fear that it might all be a dream.
	But bit by bit, he began to let the hope take hold.  He began to believe that what she had done would not be revoked.  He began to listen to his new feelings.  And he began to think more about hope.
	He tried to tell his followers about the forgiveness, but he was not very good at it, and they mostly thought he was crazy.  Their only reaction was that they saw a change coming over him.  He wasn’t the raging, daunt-less leader they had once known him to be, and they rallied among themselves thinking to pick another.  He did not know how to make them understand, so he turned and left them to themselves.
	He went alone to his cave, and after some time, he realized that he must now be about a task that was far more important to him than making someone else understand what he had experienced.  He must now be in search of what the end result of this new hope might be.  He must know its meaning.  And the desire he felt inside to know this one thing was greater than any desire he had ever known in all the days of his entire existence.  It was a powerful, living thing this desire, and its end result remained to be seen.

Chapter 4
THE SEARCH

	Now Lucifer had, over the eons of time, searched every corner of the earth looking for a self.  He knew its mountains and caves and seas and skies.  He had seen its teaming cities and its lonely country sides; its poorest villages and its power palaces.
	He also knew that there was nothing there for him.  Not anywhere.  Not ever.
	And so the question of where to look in his search for the end of this hope left him with only one possibility.  He must go back to the place where it all began.  He must go back to the forgiveness lady and see what more he could learn.
	He began slowly.  At first he merely hovered over the small town in which she lived--observing its citizens--not coming too close to her.  But the sweet essence of acceptance soon drew him closer, and he could not remain at a distance for long.
	And so Lucifer began a new way of life. . .a way of life that for the first time ever, allowed for the existence of another.
	During this time he spent hours in her presence.  He watched her in her work and in her rest; he watched her with other people and when she was alone.  He watched her sleep and, he watched her cry.
	He watched and listened. . .and he felt.  Yet when he tried to define or understand the meaning of these feelings, he could not.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	

	One day while she was washing her dishes in the kitchen, he found himself wondering how she could have come to forgive such a one as he.
	Suddenly she spoke out loud.
	“People who cannot forgive are people who have so much pain in their heart at things done to them, and so much guilt in their heart at things they have done, that they have to send it out to hang on someone else, like they send out their dirty laundry.  This is their way of not having to face what is inside of themselves.  It is the reason we blame and hate and want vengeance.  It is the reason why we do not forgive.”
	He jerked his head up.  Had she heard his thoughts?  Who was she talking to?

	“I have spent many years releasing the pain in my heart by crying,”  she continued, “and so I am finally beginning to be able to come to terms with the things about others and the things about myself, that I have hated--the things that have kept me from forgiving.  You see, forgiving myself is the hardest part of all.  Forgiving you was easy.”
	Was she talking to Him?!  How could she know what he had asked?
	She continued on about her tasks in silence.
	He waited.
	Nothing.
	He looked around to make sure no one was there.  He felt exposed.
	“Don’t be dismayed,” she said.  “I often have conversations like these.  I sense the confusion of others and I pick up their denied feelings all the time--the ones they try to pretend they don’t have.  I like to practice the presentation of my discoveries about things by answering their questions.  It helps to clarify them in my mind.  So I have these imaginary conversations with them.  Mostly, nobody knows that I exist, at least in their conscious minds.  I don’t expect you do either.  I just do it for myself.  What else did you want to know?”
	He was stunned. . .mortified. . .speechless!  That she should be aware of him in his vulnerability and his weakness!  That she should know of him, and his feelings!
	He backed away from her.  Up, up he rose, careening into a flock of seagulls as he went.  By thunder!  He had not expected this.  He thought he had been alone in his shame and his need!  He had to get away!  He added a burst of speed to his movement, and as he fled, he cast one last glance in her direction.  She seemed not to be aware of him at all.  She merely continued washing her dishes.

Chapter 5
THE TRUST

	Back at his cave Lucifer searched his mind for the meaning of all this.  He had believed her act of forgiveness to be an arbitrary act--done in an impersonal way, to a figure known only to her as a legend.  This personal response to a question that he was reflecting upon in the privacy of his own mind, was unsettling to him to say the least!  He had never been inclined to make his personal feelings known to anyone!  Not anyone!  Nor was he about to do so now!  No one had ever been interested in how he felt.  No one had ever shown the slightest bit of concern for him in this way, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
	He lay back and let his mind work on these things.
	Time passed.
	He watched the sky gently let the sun go, as it had every afternoon for as long as he could remember.  He heard the waves landing upon the rocks as they had done continuously for ages upon ages.  He knew these events of nature well.  He was. . .sure of them.
	And then he realized something.  He realized that he had begun to feel about this forgiveness lady the same way he felt about the wandering sun and the restless waves.  He was sure of her, for he had begun to trust that she would always be the same person to him that she had been from the beginning.
	He was surprised at himself.  He had never trusted anyone.  There was no one he could trust, and so the possibility of doing so had never entered his mind.
	And yet here it was. . .happening.
	He let the idea settle in.
	Well. . .it was not so hard to think of being open with someone about your feelings if you trusted them.  In fact it was kind of a relief, because it seemed that if they were trustworthy, they would be. . .careful with you, and you would have nothing to fear.
	He knew himself well enough to know that if he had realized before now that this trust thing was happening to him, he would have stopped it.  But it crept up on him unawares.  He guessed that it had begun in a very small way, when he had first found out that she was the one who had forgiven him.  And then every time after that, when he had gone back to check and see if she had changed her mind about him, the trust must have grown stronger.  He supposed it had been collecting into quite a little storehouse of trust by now.  And that wasn’t all.  He saw that he had become very comfortable with her.  In fact, if he let himself remember, he could see that he had been feeling very much at home in her presence for quite a while.

	How odd.  He had never felt at home anywhere. . .in his whole life.  He realized now that he had behaved foolishly before--the way he had run off so suddenly.  He had just been so surprised at her answering him like that.  He wondered if she knew how he’d felt--what he’d done.
	Wait.  Hadn’t she said, “Don’t be dismayed?”  She must have sensed something.  Oh, yes.  He remembered it now.  She had said that she “picks up feelings.”  How fascinating.  She picks up his feelings. . .and she lets him pick up hers.
	“Well, I’ll be damned!  Will wonders never cease?!”
	He felt like he had a. . .a pen-pal. . .communicating this way.  Hey!  Maybe this meant that she was his friend.  He had never had a friend before.  He wondered what it would be like.
	He put his arms back under his head and closed his eyes.  He let his mind wander over the possibilities.
	Someone’s humming a tune, he noticed vaguely.  I wonder who it is?
	He dreamed on.
	Oh, he smiled to himself, it’s me.
	And as the night spread a soft blanket of shadows on the hills behind him, Lucifer continued his musing, and in a short time, drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Chapter 6 
THE NEED

	In the days that followed, Lucifer’s relationship to the world seemed to change.  The elements took on new meaning.  The sun had a warmth that welcomed him.  The air seemed sweet, and the water was a miracle of wetness.  He noticed the plants and the animals, their symmetry, and their amazing beauty.
	At times he tried to figure out how it was that he had never noticed these things before, and at other times he didn’t care.  It was so now.  He knew that he had the forgiveness lady to thank for this.  He knew she was still there.  He could feel it.  And he knew that she was still his friend.
	But just then, a worrisome thought occurred to him.
	Did she consider him to be her friend?  Would anybody want such a friend as he?  Maybe he was just a figment of her imagination.  Conversations to practice and clarify her discoveries, she had said.  Maybe his idea of friendship wasn’t friendship at all.  Maybe it was just his own concoction--dreamed up by himself to help him feel less. . .alone.
	Well. . .there was only one way to find out.  He’d just have to go there and ask her.
	Slowly, a feeling of vulnerability began to crowd its way in.
	Aoow!  No!  This was awful.  It was the worst thing he had ever felt!  Did hope and trust cause this!  Could hope and trust result in one having to bare one’s. . .need for another?!!
	Mumbling something about wanting his old feelings of aloofness back, he pulled himself together and made his way to the coast.  He was good and angry now!  Imagine!  Letting himself get into this predicament where he, Lucifer, was like a beggar asking for a crumb of friendship from a little old lady!
	He stopped in mid air.  Wait a minute!  He didn’t have to keep on with this did he?  If there was going to be a friendship, why. . .she could just come to him!
	He turned to reverse his path.  But as he looked up, his eyes were suddenly blinded by a shaft of sunlight.  For a moment he forgot where he was.  He couldn’t see a thing.  Damnation but that sun was bright!  What the devil?!
	And then a shadow glided across the sun’s light.  His eyes followed it.  A large, white seagull slowly floated past him.  It continued spiraling down in a gentle circle, as if it were riding on the wind. . .effortlessly. . .
beautifully.  
	Its movement caught his eye; its serenity caught his mind; and its beauty caught at his heart.

	As he watched it gently descend to the little village on the coast of the Great Western Sea, he remembered.  The forgiveness lady had come to him.  It was she who had made the first effort--a gesture, free and clear of requirement or obligation.  She had forgiven him, and in so doing, she had fanned a spark of hope that had long since been given up for dead.  Her forgiveness, in its own way, had sought him out, and expected nothing in return.  Surely she thought of him as her friend.
	He moved slowly now, but with a certainty, toward the small house where she lived.  Trust was new to him, but if he was learning anything, it was that trust must mean that you could lay your need bare to another. . . and it would be safe.  And this he was now prepared to do.

Chapter 7
A FRIEND

	When Lucifer arrived at her house, she was busy making something in the kitchen.  He waited a moment, not knowing quite how to begin.
	“Oh, these are going to be Christmas cookies for my grand-
children,” she said.  “Gingerbread men.”
	“Gingerbread men?” he said stupidly, surprised at her quick response to his presence.
	“Yes. . .little cookie people made of a special dough called gingerbread.  They taste very good.  You can have one when they’re done,” she added happily.
	“Uh,  O.K.,” he mumbled.
	“I’m glad you came today,” she added.  “I’ve missed you.”
	Her words took him by surprise.
	“You have?” he asked.
	“Yes,” she answered.  “I’ve missed you.  Seems like I’ve gotten used to having you around every so often, and I enjoy your company.  You’ve stayed away for quite a while.  Is anything the matter?”
	She went on mixing her cookie dough--waiting for his reply.
	He was totally taken a-back, for he was as sure of this fact as he had ever been sure of anything in his whole life. . .no one had ever missed him before.
	“What do you mean,” he asked her tentatively, “you missed me?”
	“Just that,” she answered.  “It’s like this.  There is a place here in my mind and my heart that belongs to you now.  And when you’re gone too long, I feel its emptiness.  And I want you to know that you are not a figment of my imagination.  I wouldn’t miss someone who isn’t real.”
	Tears began to appear in his big, dark eyes.  He looked away, pausing for a moment.
	“Does that mean I am your friend?” he asked her quietly.
	“Absolutely,” she answered without hesitation, “and I am yours.  We are surely friends.”
	He looked at her standing there in her kitchen making cookies.  She was so confident, this little human lady.  Yet to him she seemed so frail.
	Suddenly he wanted to take care of her--to protect her.  He would set all of his forces about her to keep any harm from coming her way.  He had powers never dreamed of and if anyone threatening came near her, they would have to answer to him!

	She was busily stirring her cookies, saying nothing.  He wondered if she knew of his plans for her safety.  She would probably say that they weren’t necessary.  No matter.  His protection was already in place.  He was her guardian.
	“My but this dough tastes good,” she said, licking her fingers.  “Want to taste some?”
	“Um. . .maybe later,” he answered, distractedly, for he was back now to the issue of their friendship.
	She began rolling out the dough with her old wooden rolling pin--waiting.
	“I have a question I have to ask you,” he said.
	“Ask ahead,” she said.  “Friends can ask each other anything.”
	“Well, that’s just it,” he said.  “Are you sure you want to be friends with someone who’s. . .who’s reputation is so terrible?”  There!  He had said it.
	“Well, reputations are one thing.  And the person is another,” she said.
	“But I’ve done so many awful things.” he groaned painfully, looking at her.  “How can you like me enough to be my friend?”
	“The way I see it,” she said, “what you do is part of learning how to live.  Who you are is unchangeable.  I know who you are, and I like you.”
	“But that’s just the trouble,” he blurted out.  “Who am I?  What am I?  I’m nothing.  I’m. . .I’m no one!”
	He turned and looked out the window, longing for an escape from the torturous truth that he had lived with all of his days.
	She stopped rolling the dough.  She waited a moment, giving him a chance to calm down.
	Then she said, “Now I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully to me, for this is something that I know very truly from my heart.
	“Every cell and vibration of your being is filled with God’s Light.  It’s who you are--a being who was created in the image of God.  You can’t get away from it!”
	She turned to her dough and began pressing her cookie cutter into it carefully.
	“But isn’t there something about a person going bad. . .you know, falling. . .uh. . .?”
	“Oh, yes,” she said, “that’s the story all right.  Personally, I have my own version.  But doing things that are inappropriate, hurtful, mean, and the like--do not change the inside of the doer.  That person may be off the track for awhile to be sure, but the Light is still present within them.”
	How could she say such things?!  Everybody knew there were bad guys and good guys. . .or. . .guys with selves and guys with no selves.

	“Now don’t get off on that silly tangent,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.  “It’s just not true.  Take my gingerbread cookies for example.  I’m making them all with sugar and butter and flour and a little salt--the same ingredients.  I’m making them into little gingerbread selves.  I cut each one out and bake them and frost them.  They may each turn out a little 
differently, you know--one will have a different shaped head and one will have smaller feet, one will have a crack across the tummy and one will bake out a little bit darker--but they will all be gingerbread cookies.  It’s the same with you and me.
	“When God and the Divine Mother came together and created little beings, each one had a self,  just like these cookies.  And these selves were made of divine cookie dough just like their parents--good stock you might say.  And if they should ever do anything hurtful for some reason, this deed could never change who they are inside.  No bad seeds.”
	Bad seeds!  Why did she have to use that phrase?
	Lucifer thought for a moment.  Then he asked her, “But why do some beings do bad deeds and others don’t?”
	“Oh, everybody does bad deeds some time,” she said matter-of-factly, “because everybody makes mistakes, or misunderstands someone else, or gets hurt or scared or angry.  Then they end up doing something they think will save them.”
	“What do you mean, save them?”
	“Well, it’s very complicated,” she answered.  “Let me explain it this way.  Let’s say that the world someone lives in--in their mind and heart--tells them that they are going to be killed.  Then they are terrified.  And they lash out and try to save themselves by killing first.  So killing becomes to them. . .their salvation.  It’s something like that.  And believe me we’ve all done it.”
	“You mean everybody has killed?”  he asked.
	“Yes, but think about it this way too.  Let’s say a little child brings his parent a picture he drew at school.  He is hoping for approval and acceptance.  But the parent is stressed out about work and finances and has asked the child to get ready for bed because it is late and so forth.  This moment, right now, when the parent responds to the child, can be like. . .a ‘killing’--cross and hurried, or it can be a moment of life-giving--approving and 
loving.”
	“I never thought of it that way,” he said.
	“No.  Most people don’t,” she replied.  “But you see. . .the person who’s doing this killing--small or large--is only trying to save themselves, or their family or whoever, from the disaster they are worried about.  In other words, they are executing their plan of salvation.  And it gets even more involved.  For now you can see that a whole lot of killings, when you’re young, can build fear and resentment and a belief that you’re not O.K.  And so a pattern of killings gets set within the children as their plan of salvation, and they are the ones who will live in the future.”
	Lucifer was silent for a while. 
	This was all well and good.  But what about him?  What about his first killing?  What was his excuse?
	“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, answering his thoughts.  “Somewhere along the way, when you first woke up, somebody didn’t accept you right off.  You know, thought you were a bit different or whatever, and you took it in and believed it.”
	“What did I believe?” he asked, bewildered.
	“That your ‘essence of self’ was unacceptable,” she said, “that your cookie dough wasn’t a real cookie.”
	“A real cookie?”
	“A real cookie!”
	He believed that he remembered God rejecting him all these years.  Was that what she was talking about?
	“Yes,” she said.  “I hate to say it, but I think it was the big cheese who did this thing.”
	“The big cheese?!!” he gasped.  “You mean. . .God?”
	“Yes,” she sighed.  “You know, the Almighty, the Creator.”
	“But isn’t he. . .doesn’t he have the right to say who’s good and who’s bad?”
	“Well, I suppose so,” she answered.  “But I’m not so sure he was always on top of things.  He was probably just this lonely guy in the sky, trying to figure out how to be God and whipping up creation and all.  And he turned around and saw you.”
	“Saw me?!”  Lucifer was shocked.
	“Yes,” she said.  “He saw you.  Another part of himself.  And he didn’t recognize you.  You were different from him.  He probably flinched or something and sent you flying out into space.  I figure it must have seemed to you as if you were banished forever for being an unacceptable you.
	“You mean it was all a mistake?” he gasped.  “The rejection?  The isolation?  My whole life is just the result of a. . .a. . .a stupid flinch?!!”
	His own words rang in his ears.
	Suddenly he whirled on the spot and vanished--giving her no chance to respond.
	He flew, faster, faster, farther and higher--fighting back the feelings--not wanting to know anything anymore.  It was too impossible.  Too ridiculous that his miserable life was nothing but a fluke, a joke, the result of a careless moment.  But there was no where to get away from it.  There was no way out. . .only to feel how he felt.  

	He made it to his cave just as his defenses gave way.  He fell upon his bed as the truth overtook his consciousness.  His rage began wrenching and shaking his body.  He howled and shook his fists at the heavens.  And then he wept and wept the anguish. . .of a thousand life-times.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	The forgiveness lady was a little worried about Lucifer.  She was sorry that she didn’t have more time to talk with him.  Perhaps she had said too much too soon.  Maybe it had all seemed too glib or nonchalant.  After all, talking about a person’s life was a delicate matter.  Yet she was sure that he needed to know the truth in order to find his way out of the trap.  Now the only thing left was to see how he would respond.

Chapter 8
A NEW SALVATION

	When Lucifer awoke the sun was just coming up--a sliver of light rising out of the water--steadily growing.  He was numb. . .no, he was raw.  He tried not to, but he remembered.  “The Life and Times of Lucifer the Evil One” had all been. . .just for nothing.
	He could hardly believe it.  A mistake.  A reaction.  And that 
reaction had caused a series of events that had set the course of his life.  
	He hated God more than ever now, the big blow-hard, and he would never, ever forgive him!
	Lucifer stretched and rose.  He actually felt better than he thought he would.  After all, he was at least now released from the terrible lie he had been forced to live.  Now he just had to figure out what to do next, how to change his life. . .to be more. . .happy, and do more things that he wanted to do.  And with this new knowledge that God was at fault, he felt a nice satisfaction.  Maybe things were looking up after all!
	He headed off to the forgiveness lady’s house, whipping up a little storm on his way.
	She was putting the cookies in a storage can when he found her.
	“Hello,” he said, “how are you?”
	She was silent for a moment.
	“I’m fine,” she said.  “How are you?”
	“I’m all right,” he answered.  “I sure left in a hurry last night, didn’t I?  I guess I was kind of upset.”
	“Yes, and you had a right to be,” she said.  “How are you feeling about it now?”
	“O.K. I guess.  I came to ask you what you think I should do now, you know. . .to get on with my life and all,” he finished hurriedly.
	“Get on with your life?“ she asked.
	“Yes,” he answered.  “I want to start over and find some. . .
happiness.”
	“Ummm. . .I don’t think you can get on with your life, or find any happiness when you’re busily occupied with killing someone else,” she said gently.
	“Killing?” he exclaimed.  “What do you mean, killing?  Who am I killing?” he asked her, indignantly.
	“Well, maybe you can tell me,” she said.  “Remember that killing is done as a plan of salvation.”
	She went on with her packing:  wax paper. . .a layer of cookies. . .
wax paper. . .cookies.

He searched his memory.  What was she talking about?  What plan of salvation?
	What?!
	And then something started to come.  His mind didn’t want to let him have it, but his heart was translating it and telling him the truth.
	His anger at the ‘big cheese’ had hardened into hatred.  It was cold hatred now--more entrenched because it was justified.  Lucifer now believed he had the right to hate.  It was not just out of desperation and hurt like before.  It was out of some kind of. . .righteousness.
	Was this the killing?
	“Oh, yes,” she said.  “Hatred is always a killing.  And the one who is being hated feels it so.”
	“But what about God?  What about what he did to me?” he wailed.
	“We’re not talking about him.  We’re talking about you,” she said directly.  “As long as some part of you, inside, thinks that you can feel better by hating, you will never get on with your life.  You will just go around in circles and continue the patterns of killing we talked about before.  You don’t want to do that do you?” she asked.
	“No. . .I don’t know!”  Softer.    “Of course I don’t.  But where is my satisfaction in all of this?  Where is my pay back?”
	“You mean where is your plan of salvation?” she said.
	“Yes,” he mumbled.  “Nothing I’ve ever done has worked out for me.  Not from the very beginning and not even now!”
	“No, of course not,” she said with certainty.  “Plans of salvation never work.”
	Silence.
	Was she going to tell him how to get saved?
	Silence.
	Was she going to save him?!!
	More silence.
	“Lucifer,” she said gently.  He turned to look at her.  “You’ve 
already been saved.  You are on your way back.”
	He thought of the gingerbread men. . .each one a real cookie.
	“Tell me,” he said.
	She slipped the cookie can into the cupboard and sat down at the table, reaching for her cup of tea.
	“Well,” she began, “the Divine Mother brought me the gift of tears so I could stop the cycle of killing that was going on in my life.  And now, whether you realize it or not, I have shared the gift of tears with you.  You see. . .the tears are our salvation.  For with the tears come the end of the pain and the anger and the grief and the fear that has been stored up for so long.  All the stuff that leads to the hurtful deeds. . .the plans for salvation.  I personally think the Divine Mother had to teach God that it was O.K. to cry.”
	“I can’t remember now why my tears came,” he said, thoughtfully.
	“Your tears came to you through the forgiveness,” she said.
	“Oh, yes,” he said,  “the forgiveness.”
	“You see, real forgiveness ” she told him, “is nothing more than coming to a place where you don’t have to kill anymore. Once I had cried enough of my hurt and anger at what was done to me, and my self-loathing at what I had done, I discovered this; and then I could pass the forgiveness on, and assure you that you are acceptable just as you are--a real gingerbread cookie.”
	“But how did the forgiveness turn into the tears?” he asked her.
	She smiled, “The forgiveness gave you hope,” she said.
	“Hope is very powerful isn’t it?” he replied in awe.
	“Yes.  And that hope started your tears flowing.  And they began washing away some of those bad feelings.  And low and behold. . .you were on your way to a real salvation!”  She smiled and sipped her tea.
	And with this declaration, Lucifer understood.  He thought about the changes that had taken place inside of him.  The things he felt now.  Hope and forgiveness.  Trust and friendship.  And the desire to live!  He realized that he was coming out of his own personal prison.  He was set free!
	He drew in the deepest breath he had ever taken.  Fresh air, cool air.  And then he slowly moved out of her presence, his eyes turned upward.  The sky was a vast, beautiful space waiting to be filled with dreams of living.  He moved like the wind seeking the sun, as the very energy of life filled his heart.  Tears began to flow again.  They rolled down his cheeks
as he wept for joy.
	After he had gone, the forgiveness lady was grateful anew for that sweet process of tears that all beings possess which enables them to heal.

Chapter 9
THE RECONCILIATION 

	Time passed, though Lucifer was not aware of its passing.  What he was aware of was this:  something inside of him which was dead had come to life and begun to move.  It had a song to sing, and a dance to dance.  It had needs and desires and longings.  It cared about things he didn’t even know about yet.  And it wanted to live.
	Lucifer could not ever remember wanting to live before.  He had not known before now that this was so, but it was.  Apparently he had been carrying around within himself. . .a death wish.  And now, that wish had been reversed.  Oh, the joy if it.  The delight.  The gratitude he felt!
	Gratitude!
	Oh, my!  How long had he been in this reverie?  What must the forgiveness lady think of him?  He had left without saying thank you!
	When he arrived she was just waking up from a nap.  He didn’t want to disturb her so he waited.
	“What is it?” she asked gently, with eyes still closed.
	“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said shyly.
	“Oh, that’s O.K.,“ she said.  “I needed to get up anyway and stretch my back.”
	“Well. . . “ he hesitated, “I fear I forgot. . .uh.  I was so overwhelmed. . .that is. . .the understanding of it all.  I left without telling you.”
	And suddenly sweeping his cape aside he formally bowed and said in his most solemn voice:  
	“I am forever indebted to you.  And I wish to offer you my most humble thanks for your wonderful gifts to me.”
	She knew what he meant.
	And she knew that he knew what he was saying to her.
	And so she sat up, nodded and replied, “You are very welcome.
	“Now then,” she said with less formality, “is there anything else on your mind?”
	He thought for a moment.  What was it?  Something he’d been avoiding thinking about?  Something that made him a little nervous?
	Arising from her day bed she went into the kitchen.  The cookies were ready to be frosted.
	“It’s all right,” she said.  “Don’t be afraid.  There is nothing that can’t be healed with tears.  What is it?”
	And then it came to him as his mind again listened to his heart.
	“Well,” he said.  “I was wondering. . .how can it be O.K. now?  For the future?  What about all of the people that I have hurt?”

	She was silent for a moment, carefully spreading yellow frosting on one gingerbread cookie’s head.
	“It won’t be easy,” she said gently.  “But first I believe that you will be looking back at your past--at all of the things that were done to you, and you will need to cry about them.”
	“You mean like. . .what God did?” he asked.
	“Yes,” she answered.
	She paused, and then went on.
	“Then in time you’ll be doing something harder.  You’ll be looking at all of the things that you have done to others.  And you’ll cry about them too.  You’ll have to take all of this a little at a time.  The crying will be a huge relief and release.  And the acceptance that will follow for the painful events of your life, and the forgiveness you will find for those who had a hand in them--will be like a healing balm.  You’ll take a rest from it now and then, and come and talk to me.  And then, one day, you’ll begin to take the forgiveness and the acceptance. . .and offer it to your self.”
	“Are you sure I can do this?” he asked.
	“Oh, yes,” she said.  “You can.”
	“It might take me a long time,” he said.
	That’s O.K.,” she said, and paused for a moment.  
	“Later, when you are ready, you’ll go to the ones who have hurt you and you’ll tell them you have forgiven them.”
	He listened wide-eyed and nodded.
	“Then. . .when you’re ready, you’ll go to each one you have hurt and you’ll tell them how sorry you are, and ask them to forgive you.  They will all struggle.  Some won’t believe you.  Some will hold a grudge.  Some won’t want to give up having someone else to blame.  But since you know how that feels you will understand.  You might cry some more. . .and you’ll be very patient.  Each one will come to his forgiveness in his own time.  And to do this, each one will need to cry.”
	Lucifer listened very carefully.  It didn’t seem so difficult hearing her tell it.  It seemed almost. . .possible.  And what’s more he found that he wanted to do it!
	She went on working lovingly on her cookies, as she hummed a little tune.
	He looked at his friend.
	Yes!  All of this could come true, he thought.  He knew it now, because the forgiveness lady was the very living example of it!
	He took her words into his heart and slipped away, comforted by the fact that everything she had ever told him had been more true and more real than anything else in his whole life.

Chapter 10
A CHOICE

	It had been a few weeks since Lucifer had last visited his friend.  He had been letting himself feel what he felt about things, and cry when he needed to.  He was not surprised now, as he had been at first, at how refreshed he felt after a crying time and how differently things seemed to him.  He remembered the events of his life--all the mistakes and misunder-standings--and he understood them better now.  It was as if things that used to goad him all the time were fading away one by one, and really didn’t matter anymore.
	What did matter was his desire to get on with it. . .to explore the unknown in himself. . .to live.
	And with this new desire, there came one special realization of the greatest importance.  He was now keenly aware of a new power he held within his own hands--a power he never thought about before or believed he had.  It was the power of choice. 
	He realized now that he could choose. . .choose to feel his feelings and cry; or choose to ignore them and stay submerged in his old plan of salvation and killings.  And this precious gift was his.  He could choose either life. . .or death.  
	Did that make him like a God?  It seemed so, and yet it was only his own life he was choosing for.  He would be grateful if his choices would help someone else, as the forgiveness lady’s had helped him, yet what resulted from them was not his to know.  All he knew was that he was master of his own choices now.  And that was a legacy he never dreamed of before.  
	It was a mind boggling thing. . .not to feel like a victim anymore.  It made him less afraid of the future.  And it gave him a tremendous hope that anything--any problem--could be solved.  And so, armed with this new knowledge, he decided it was time to find out more about the self she said he had!  
	The real gingerbread cookie!

Chapter 11 
A SELF

	The next morning Lucifer headed toward the little house on the coast inhabited by the wisest person he had ever known.
	“Hello,” she said.  “Is all well with you?”
	“Yes,” he said.  “I’m fine.”  
	The forgiveness lady was putting some hand stitches in a piece of cloth.
	“And. . .” she said.
	“And I’m feeling a great urge to find out more about my. . .self.”
	“Oh,” she said, “your self.”
	“Yes.  I don’t really know just how to go about finding out. . .what I’m like. . .you know. . .inside.”
	She added some stitches.
	“I see,” she said.  “Well, have you noticed what time of year it is--what season it is now?”
	“No. . .not really,” he said.  “It’s cold, so I suppose it’s winter.”
	“Yes,” she prodded.  “What else?”
	“I don’t know,” he shrugged, waiting for her to tell him what she wanted him to know.
	She continued stitching.
	“Lucifer,” she said quietly, “it’s Christmas time.”
	He was very still.
	“Christmas is about selves,” she said.
	He did not move, but his heart was in his throat.  He looked at her.
	“It’s time you had a Christmas of your own.”
	A floodgate was opening in his mind, bringing with it many 
images:  years of longings and missed moments of magic, lifetimes of 
being on the outside looking in, never knowing the hope and joy of this thing called. . .Christmas.
	“I never had a Christmas before,” he ventured.  “I. . .I was never invited.”
	And with that last word he collapsed on her couch and buried his face in his arms.  This was Lucifer’s crying time, and his tears flowed from 
a great storehouse within him.
	The forgiveness lady understood, and she accepted his feelings with the great gentleness and the space that only someone who has cried 
in the same way can do.  And his grief was allowed to spend itself.

	*		*		*		*	

	With the last vestiges of the sadness spilling forth in little short sobs, Lucifer breathed deeply and said, “Thank you kind lady for understanding.”
	“And thank you for honoring your feelings,” she replied.  “You are indeed a good crier and that has served you well.
	“Would you like to talk now?” she asked him, as she snipped some red thread from her basket.
	“I don’t know what to say,” he said softly.
	“Well then, I’ll talk and you listen.
	“Whatever went on in your past, that kept you from having a Christmas, is over.  We can talk about it or not as you choose.  But what I want you to know now is that Christmas is waiting for you. . .here. . .today.  It is yours and nobody can take it from you.  The Christ Child that was born on Christmas is offered to everyone.  It’s yours too.  It’s your self.”
	Lucifer sat up.  It seemed as if he were coming back to life.
	“The Christ Child?”  he asked.  
	“Yes,” she said.  
	“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.  
	“I mean that Christmas is the restoring of the divine self to its rightful owners--you and me and everyone.  It’s a homecoming!  And you can have it too!”
	“I don’t know how to have a Christmas,” he said.
	“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, smiling her best smile.  “Listen to me,” she said.  “You’ll find Christmas in any town where children are putting on a Nativity pageant.”
	“What’s a Nativity pageant,” he asked.
	“Oh, it’s a little drama depicting the events of the first Christmas night when the Christ Child was sent to be born in a manger.”
	“A manger?”
	“Yes, a stable for animals,” she explained.  “You see God sent the divine Christ Spirit to be born, not in the body of a person of royal blood, whose parents owned a great rich palace, but in the body of a carpenter’s son, in a lowly barn next to animals.”
	“Why?” he asked her.
	“To make sure,” she replied, “that we understand that it’s our very selves that are divine. . .not our heritage in the world.  Just. . .who we are, children of God.  And one of the reasons it is so special to see the children play all of the parts in the story, is that they are the truest of beings we have in our world.  They are our hope and our future.”
	His eyes were bright.
	“What will they do in this pageant?” he asked her eagerly.

	“Oh,” she answered, “they will act out this wondrous night again.  You will love to see them!  There will be little children and big children--dark ones and light ones--some with runny noses and some with hair in their eyes.  Each will have a little part in the story.  Maybe a shepherd, or an angel, or a wiseman.  There will be music and singing and costumes.  And there will be a Joseph and a Mary, too.  
	“And then. . .in the manger cradle. . .there will be a little doll-baby.  And this doll-baby will represent the Christ Child.  You must let this child represent you, as if you and he were one!  For he represents the beautiful heart-child within all of us.  Honor the child, and accept the gifts he brings, and you will be honoring the divinity in all of humanity, and in yourself.  For each one has a Christ child within their own heart, waiting 
to be born anew.  And his gifts are yours forever.”
	“His gifts?”
	“Yes,” she said.  “You see, he was a gift to us. . .but he also brought gifts to us.”
	“What are the gifts he brought?”  he asked her breathlessly.
	“Ah,” she said, as if she were about to unwrap a great package before them.  “There are twelve of them, rare and wonderful.  They belong to all of us.  Oh, they were ours from the very beginning, but somehow in the shuffle, we must have lost sight of them.  So God sent the Christ Child to bring them back to us.”
	“You mean God. . .he. . .” he stumbled.
	“Yes,” she said.  “He tried to make things right with us.  And we always have the chance to regain these gifts anew, yet at Christmas time it seems especially possible.  But you see. . .what people don’t understand. . .
is that to make room for these gifts inside of themselves, they must use the natural process of tears and let themselves cry; for this is the only thing that will enable them to give up the old tarnished things that took their place.  You know, even Jesus as a grown man wept.”
	“I understand,” he said.  “Would you tell me about the gifts now?”
	“Oh, yes,” she said, “the gifts!”
	She took a breath, slow and deep.
	“Now these gifts are the answer to the longings of every heart,” she said reverently.  “Let me describe them to you:

	“The first gift is hope - undying, and the symbol of this gift is a candle.”
	“I know about hope,” he said happily.  “I’ve already received this gift.”  He didn’t feel quite like such an outsider after all.
	“Yes,” she chuckled, “and you know about the second gift too.
	“The second gift is  forgiveness--all that anyone would ever need.  It is symbolized by a hand reaching out to take yours.”

	“What else?” he asked her.
	“Well, the third gift is innocence - an openness.  Acceptance with no judgment.  It’s symbol is a sparkling crystal.”
	“How beautiful,” he murmured.
	“Yes,” she said, “and the fourth gift is a knowing place - inside you.  This is where faith and wisdom reside, and it is symbolized by a pearl.”
	“Will I have this knowing place inside me too?” he asked, amazed.
	“Oh, yes,” she answered, “everyone already does.
	“Now the fifth gift is a vision - of who you are.”
	“Who I am?” he said solemnly to himself.
	“Yes, and it is symbolized by a star.”
	“Oh, my,” he exclaimed.  It all seemed too much to take in.
	“The sixth gift is intimacy - closeness, a union with no separation or loneliness.”
	Lucifer, who had spent eons feeling alone, looked at her gratefully.
	“It’s symbol is a rose,” she continued.
	“And the seventh gift is commitment - symbolized by a ring.  And it is a promise sure and lasting.”
	A promise, he thought.  How could any gifts ever be better than these?
	“Oh, God and the Divine Mother knew very well what we all needed,” she said happily.
	“Now the eighth gift is comfort - protection and safety, peace and rest, and it is symbolized by a heart.”
	Lucifer shifted a little, hugging himself.
	“The ninth gift is power - magnetism - the most powerful force in the world.   It’s symbol is a magnet.”
	He was surprised by this gift.
	Sensing his reaction, she asked, “What is it?”
	“Well. . .is it O.K. to be. . .powerful?”
	“Oh, yes indeed!” she answered.  “Beings created in God’s image are powerful and they have the power to create just as he did.  They will need their desire to do it, but do it they will!”
	“Please go on,” he said.
	“Well, the tenth gift is your divinity - remember. . .God created us in his own image.  It’s symbol is a crown.”
	“A crown,” he said in awe.
	“The eleventh gift is value - your worth; not what you do, but who you are, and it is symbolized by a butterfly.”
	“Oh, how wonderful!  A butterfly!” he exclaimed.
	“I think you might like the twelfth gift best of all,” she replied.

The twelfth and final gift is home - your ‘right place,’ your final destination where you always belong, and they always welcome you and love you.  It’s symbol is a bird.”
	They were both silent for a moment, letting the meanings of the great gifts gently take hold of their hearts.
	And then Lucifer rose. . .hesitant, yet anxious to be on his way.  He found he was a little shy to go out there in a world, where he had always been only feared and hated.
	“Now, now,” she said, “none of that.  You go along and you just stand tall, Lucifer.  Christmas belongs to you too!”

	And so. . .Lucifer stepped forth with the knowledge of the things that he had learned. . .and with a great desire to find his new self. . .and to have his very first Christmas!

The End

APPENDIX

THINGS THE FORGIVENESS LADY SAID THAT LUCIFER WROTE DOWN SO HE WOULD NEVER FORGET THEM

1.   Evil deeds are not done because a heart is filled with evil, but they are done because a heart is filled with pain.

2.   Forgiving myself was the hardest part of all.  Forgiving you was easy.

3.   There is a place here in my mind and my heart that belongs to you now.  And when you’re gone too long, I feel its emptiness.

4.   We are surely friends.

5.   Friends can ask each other anything.

6.   What you do is part of learning how to live.  Who you are is unchangeable.

7.   I know who you are, and I like you.

8.   Every cell and every vibration of your being is filled with God’s Light.  It’s who you are--a being who was created in the image of God.

9.   Doing things that are inappropriate, hurtful, mean, and the like do not change the inside of the doer.

10.  When God and the Divine Mother came together and created little beings. . .each one had a self, just like these cookies.  And these selves were made of divine cookie dough just like their parents--good stock you might say.

11.  Everybody does bad deeds some time.

12.  The person who’s doing this ‘killing’--small or large--is only trying to save themselves or their family.

13.  I don’t think you can get on with your life, or find any happiness when you are busily occupied with killing someone else.

14.  Hatred is always a killing.  And the one who is being hated feels it so.

15.  Plans of salvation never work.

16.  The tears are our salvation.  For with the tears come the end of the pain and the anger and the grief and the fear that has been stored up for so long.  All the stuff that leads to the hurtful deeds. . .the plans for salvation.

17.  Real forgiveness is nothing more than coming to a place where you don’t have to kill anymore.

18.  There is nothing that can’t be healed with tears.

19.  Thank you for honoring your feelings.

20.  Christmas is about selves.

21.  Christmas is waiting for you. . .here. . .today.  It is yours and nobody can take it from you.

22.  The Christ Child that was born on Christmas is offered to everyone.  It’s your self.

23.  Christmas is the restoring of the divine self to its rightful owners--you and me and everyone.  It’s a homecoming!

24.  It’s our very selves that are divine. . .not our heritage in the world.  Just who we are, children of God.

25.  Each one has a Christ Child within their own heart, waiting to be born anew.

26.  The Christ Child’s gifts are yours forever.  There are twelve of them, rare and wonderful.  They belong to all of us.  Oh, they were ours from the very beginning, but somehow in the shuffle, we must have lost sight of them.  So God sent the Christ Child to bring them back to us.

27.  What people don’t understand is that to make room for these gifts inside of themselves, they must use the natural  process of tears and let themselves cry; for this is the only thing that will enable them to give up the old tarnished things that took their place.

28.  God and the Divine Mother knew very well what we all needed.

29.  Beings created in God’s image are powerful and they have the power to create just as he did.  They will need their desire to do it, but do it they will!

30.  You go along and you just stand tall, Lucifer.  Christmas belongs to you too!

CHRIST GIFT	SYMBOL	

Hope ......................................................... undying	Candle	

Forgiveness ................... all that anyone would need	Helping Hand	

Innocence .............................. openness, acceptance	Crystal	
                                                             no judgment		
		
A Knowing Place ...........................where faith and	Pearl	
                                                          wisdom reside		
		
Vision .............................................. of who you are	Star	

Intimacy .................. closeness, union, no separation	Rose	
                                                             or loneliness		
		
Commitment ................................. sure and lasting	Ring	

Comfort .................................. protection and safety	Heart	
                                                           peace and rest		
		
Power ....................... magnetism, the most powerful	Magnet	
                                                                   of forces		
		
Divinity .................................. God created us in his	Crown	
                                                               own image		
		
Value ........................... your worth, not what you do	Butterfly	
                                                        but who you are		
		
Home ....................................... the final destination	Bird	

Merry Christmas and Happy Life!

 

Lucifer’s

      First 

Christmas

By Janet Allyn

ISBN:  0-9658502-1-8