Part 1:
Christina's perspective:
Soaring high above the wintry landscape, across the starry night sky, I dance on pearlescent clouds under the moon's heavenly glow. I watch my shadow spin and hop over white hills, evergreen forests, and sleepy human villages. City lights dazzle me and overwhelm me with humanity's woes. I am a gentle winter spirit, the youngest daughter of Father Winter. Despite my twenty years wandering the earth and sky, I'm too young to manage the surge of emotions trapped inside a city's concrete walls, so I stay close to nature. The countryside welcomes my playful mischief.
I can feel the yearnings of human hearts and make sense of their wishes. I would love to be a human for just a little while. To feel what they feel and understand their trials. Now that I'm twenty, my wise father might agree, being a human is a perfect gift for me. I find him in his wintry palace on the highest frozen peak. I bow to him as he sits upon a frozen seat. The towering ice crystals of his throne are a testament to his endless magic. They existed before mankind and will be there long after humans perish.
"Father Winter, I thought of a perfect gift. Will you make me a human for my coming-of-age wish?"
His white brow creases with concern at my request.
"Don't be foolish, my precious Christina. Humans are born to suffer. I don't desire that for you."
"I know, but they also feel joy and pleasure and create wonderful things. They make love to have babies instead of being born from dying stars like my brothers and sisters. I love to watch humans live as I add snowy magic to their winter holidays. How bad could their lives be?"
"Naive child, that's easy to say when you don't feel pain. A spirit's woes are light as a feather compared to human suffering. Pain tells them when to eat, when to rest, and when they're dying. Help them if you wish, but don't be foolish enough to envy their existence."
"Oh, Father, in all your ancient wisdom, I believe you, but my heart has made the decision for me. I can't turn away from it or my spirit will darken with regret. Is that not a fate worse than fading?"
My father's brow turns sad at my words. He knows I've thought about it for more than one season.
"I knew the day would come when one of my precious children would ask for a gift of suffering. You are braver than myself. I will grant your wish. I will give you a human body for five days, but be warned. With mortal life comes the possibility of a painful death or prolonged suffering. Do you understand, Christina?"
My heart swells with fear and joy at his declaration.
"I understand, Father. Thank you."
"Very well. Let it be done."
***
Father Winter waves his hand, and Princess Christina falls to the earth as a human. Meanwhile, down in the snowy rural town of Fairweather, in the year of 1930, Father Glen is leaving his church for the night to return to his parsonage. The little stone cottage is a five minute walk from the church, but twenty inches of snow makes the journey longer.
***
Father Glen's perspective:
"Heavenly Father, please forgive my lowly spirit so close to Christmas," I pray as I trudge through the heavy snow.
A thick layer of slush has already caked on the bottom of my boots. They feel three pounds heavier. When I first arrived in Fairweather, I loved how often it snowed. The clean air and white landscape always lifted my spirit, but now I feel burdened by my lonely responsibilities. My mentors warned me this could happen when I took the position three years ago, but I arrogantly thought I was stronger than them. Youth, pride, and arrogance are my recurring sins as I approach my twenty-eighth year. I truly thought I would be happy in a life of devotion and service to our Heavenly Father and his followers. I have my own cottage, many books to read, and many friends from church, but I miss my young friends from seminary. They were my first family after leaving the orphanage. My parishioners visit me and invite me into their lives when they can, but such opportunities dwindle in a poor rural town. Everyone has a biological family to attend to but me. There is also less to do in the winter. I miss the summer garden in the church yard and the fall festival in the village. Most of all, I miss lounging with my friends in the seminary library and reading books Henry carried out of the restricted section.
"Heavenly Father, forgive me again. I'm longing for the past over my future duties. Perhaps I should resign and return to the city before I grow bitter of my calling. If you still see me fit to serve, I'm truly ready for a challenge."
Suddenly, I hear a sad whimper. I stop the noisy crunching of my boots and listen. The wind is calm and the air is crystal clear on such a cold winter night. The moon is high, making the snowy landscape eerily bright. I don't need my oil lamp to light my way, but I will need it when I enter the dark cottage. I notice the small hill to my left has lost its perfectly rounded top. Did it collapse in on itself? I hear the sad whimper again, followed by a weak groan. Someone is in distress, and I know just where to look.
I hurry up the little hill to discover something astonishing. My heart stumbles in my chest to see a beautiful young woman lying naked in a snowy pit. The snow is pristine around her. No footprints anywhere. It's like she fell straight from heaven, and judging by her looks, she could easily be an angel. Her long wavy hair is pale blond and shimmers in the lamplight around her beautiful face. Her skin is white except for her blushing lips and pink nipples. Father, forgive my wandering eyes and bodily reactions in the face of raw perfection. She can't possibly be of this earth.
Slowly, her eyelids open a little to observe my lamplight. She shudders and closes them again. I quickly remove my overcoat and lay it over her, then I gather her in my arms. She's not heavy, but she's not easy to carry through the thick snow. I hurry into the cottage and place her on the bed in the guest room. I stack many winter blankets over her before I get to work rekindling fires in the hearths. Once I'm confident I have done everything I can to help the beautiful stranger, I turn my attention to supper.
As I prepare some beef stew over the living room hearth, my mind struggles to understand where the young woman came from. Perhaps she was visiting relatives and was attacked by thieves? Not likely. Fairweather is a rural farming community. We rarely see strangers. My final guess is she either fell out of a low flying plane or she's an angel. The latter seems more likely. I haven't seen or heard an airplane since I left the city. I shake my head in confusion as I settle into my chair by the hearth to enjoy my supper. As I pick up my spoon for a bite, the naked stranger walks into the living room and stands by the fireplace. We stare at each other in astonishment. Her beauty is mesmerizing, and her nakedness warms me more than the fire.
"Am I human?" she asks.
Her voice is gentle and melodic.
"Uh... I believe you are," I stammer.
She smiles and looks at her hands and arms in the firelight.
"I'm human!" she laughs in delight.
I nod and quickly look away from her naked form with my heart pounding.
"Oh no, you're looking away from me. Am I ugly?" she asks in concern.
"No. Quite the opposite. You're very beautiful."
"Really? How wonderful! Then why look away? Do you not enjoy beauty?"
"I do. I just... it's not proper to be naked in front of strangers. And it's rude to stare at someone's nakedness."
"Oh, I didn't realize. Ugh, my body feels bad."
I glance her way as she puts her hand on her stomach.
"Are you hurt? I found you half conscious in the snow. How did you get there?"
"I... ugh... I need to sit down," she groans and starts to sway.
I hop up and quickly guide her into the chair across from mine. I pull the knitted blanket off the back and wrapped it around her. That's when I hear her stomach growl.
"When did you last eat?" I ask.
"Never."
"Never?"
"Is that bad?" she asks.
"Yes. That's probably why you feel bad. Here. Eat some of this."
I carry my little table and stew over to her chair and put the spoon in her hand. She looks at it in confusion. I go back to the kitchen to retrieve another bowl of stew before I return to my chair. My visitor watches me carefully as I say grace for both of us and then eat my stew. Her eyes brighten in realization as she copies my actions.
