This is a Christmas story. It came to me, like most good ideas, in a time of quiet in a place of sanctuary. The ideas from stem from my own background as well as from the many stories I have heard or read from folks describing their experiences during the First World War.
One of most disturbing stories I heard told to me was a woman describing how her dad had felt when he was given a white feather in an envelope when he was sent home from France with a foot injury. That meant that he was looked upon in the community as a coward. Not a nice thing to receive.
The other piece of correspondence that was dreaded would be the telegram. A son, a husband, a father, a brother: the story of a man’s death would be written in less than twenty words. Killed in action.
I would like to dedicate this story to the memory of those who had to deal with the feather or the telegram, and to those whose lives were lost in between.
Click to read: The Gift of a Feather
For a printable copy, click here: The Gift of a Feather