Alabaster's Song

Alabaster's Song

Alabaster's Song

Christmas through the Eyes of an Angel

MAX LUCADO

Illustrated by
Michael Garland

Text copyright © 1996 Max Lucado.
Illustrations copyright © 1996 Michael Garland.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except for brief excerpts in reviews.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Tommy Nelson
^®
, a Division of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Lucado, Max.

Alabaster's Song / Max Lucado ; illustrated by Michael Garland.

p. cm.

Summary: On Christmas Eve, a six-year-old boy listens to the angel from the top of the family tree sing just as he did on the first Christmas night.

ISBN 0-8499-1307-1 (original hardcover)

ISBN 1-4003-0146-7 (4½ x 5½)

ISBN 1-4003-0007-X (box set)

[1. Angels—Fiction. 2. Christmas—Fiction.] I. Garland,

Michael, 1952— ill. II. Title

PZ7.L9684A1 1996

[E]—dc20
96—14749
CIP
AC

Printed in the United States of America

02 03 04 05 LEO 5 4 3 2 1

F
or Austin, Caroline, and Claire Green.
May you always hear the song of Bethlehem.

I was six years
old when I met I
the angel called Alabaster.
That was a long time ago.
I'm grown up now and
have a little boy of my own.
But I still remember Alabaster.

Here is how I first met him.

My parents put our Christmas tree near my
room. I could see it through the doorway.
When everyone thought I was asleep, I would
lie in bed and stare at the lights and count the
shiny balls. I would watch the color glimmer
on the icicles. And I know this sounds a little
funny, but I would talk to the angel.

High atop the tree he sat. He
had feathery white wings and a
golden halo. I knew he wasn't
real. Well, at least I
thought
he
wasn't real. But he looked so
friendly with those red chubby
cheeks and bright eyes. He
looked young. Maybe that's why
I talked to him. All my brothers
and sisters were older than me.
He was the only one in the
house my age.

So I talked to him. I named
him Alabaster.

I asked him questions about being
an angel. “Do angels have to go to
bed early? Do your wings keep you
warm? Do you ever get tired of
sitting on the tree?” He never
spoke, but that didn't keep me
from asking.

One night when I was in that in-between
place between being asleep and awake,
I asked just one more question.

“What was it like to see Bethlehem?”

That must have been the right question.
Suddenly Alabaster was standing beside my bed!
“It wa
th
wonderful.”

His face was round, and his eyes were
bright. His golden halo and white feathers
glowed and sparkled. He talked to me like
we were old friends. And when he spoke
it sounded like he was missing his two
front teeth.

“It wa
th
a great night. We went to the
th
perd
th
becau
th
they were awake.
They were
th
o ni
th
e. Mo
th
the time
they thought we were
th
ars. But that
night, they knew
th
omething
th
pecial
wa
th
in the air.” He giggled with a giggle
that made me giggle, too. By now I was
sitting on the edge of my bed.

“What did you do?”

“We ju
th th
ang. Want to hear it?”

“Yeah,” I said.