Christmas Cardinal: Direction Connection

My cozy Christmas reading has come to an end, but the book gods saved the best for last.  I don't know how else to begin except to say that if you don't cry at the end of Fannie Flagg's A Redbird Christmas, then you've got a real Tin Man situation.  

Fifty-two-year-old Oswald T. Campbell has gone through life as an orphan -- and an alcoholic -- but is unprepared for the blow that he's dying of emphysema.  His doctor warns him that if he doesn't move from Chicago to someplace sunny, then this Christmas may be his last.  As nearly penniless as he is friendless, Oswald can't afford to relocate to Florida or Arizona.  So his doctor gives him an old brochure for a health resort in Lost River, Alabama.  Once Oswald learns that the price is right, he packs his few possessions and heads south.  

Lost River turns out to be the warmest place Oswald's ever been, both in climate and hospitality.  And so begins this classically poignant Flagg fable of small town strangers full of kindness (as well as calorie-laden, home-cooked meals that save instead of stop hearts).  Oswald makes fast friends in Lost River.  What's more, he's struck by the town's quiet beauty, discovering a love of nature that calms him even as it sparks his soul.  Soon he begins to feel better; his cough subsides, and he's no longer tempted to drink.  Yet despite its healing power, Lost River harbors tragedy.  There's Roy, the lovelorn shopkeeper, and his broken-winged pet redbird, Jack.  And Patsy, the disabled six-year-old from an abusive family who trusts animals but not people.  Flagg weaves the threads of this deceptively simple story to reveal that Roy, Jack, and Patsy are lost yet connected and that Oswald has come to Lost River, unbeknownst to him, to find them -- as well as himself.  What transpires will make you believe in magic, at Christmas and always.    

Now, if I'd stumbled upon A Redbird Christmas as recently as even last week, then I would've saved my cardinal bush for this post.  But as luck would have it, I have another set of bird ornaments (this time from Hallmark), and one of them just happens to be a cardinal -- or as they say in Lost River -- a redbird.

I also have this barn ornament (from Kohl's), which doesn't have much to do with anything except that 1) it's folksy and red and 2) I made a barn barrette when I blogged about another Flagg favorite, The Whole Town's Talking.  See?  Everything is connected!

Easter may have dibs on rebirth, but A Redbird Christmas shows that anyone can become whole again and that there's no better time for it than Christmas.  Because the blue bird of happiness may get all the glory (and the Disney credits), but it's the redbird of redemption that makes life worth all the worms.  Okay, bad analogy; birds love worms.  But I don't, so I'm sticking with it.

That said, merry Christmas Eve.  Of all the nights of the year, this one glows with the most anticipation (yes, even more than you, New Year's Eve; no one wants your tired tiaras).  I hope that yours is happy and that at least one thing you wish for takes flight.