Tibo could not take his eyes off the brand new baby rattle he had just bought from the supermarket. It was still wrapped in plastic and he was delighted to hear its gentle jingling crisp sound. His thoughts were lost imagining how his first born son would be enjoying the toy that he had saved up for some weeks now. He knew, even though how small it was, his wife was going to be very touched. They were very poor.

They were forftunate enough to make it to one of the city’s charitable wards. Despite the busy Christmas atmosphere the doctors and nurses were surprisingly very kind and entertained their every need.

Tibo was very nervous. He was going to be a father. Even though there was always a first time for everything being a father was quite unique. He wanted to relish every moment of it. “Elain, too was finally going to be a mother,” he smiled to himself as he entered the hospital. He and his wife had prayed for many years for a child.

He had not yet entered the ward where his wife was confined when the nurse taking care of Elain approached him. She was trying hard to put on a smile, Tibo read that something was amiss.

“Mr. Santiago, I have to tell you something...,” her faced suddenly became very serious.

“Why? What happened? Is Elain alright?” he began to panic.

“Sir, your wife is fine. She’s asleep…recovering…,” she stammered.

“Recovering…?”

“…she unexpectedly began to labor… and gave birth…,” she hesitated to continue.

“…and our baby?” he asked.

“The doctors…, they are... trying to revive him… He developed a complication and… they say his chances are slim,” she began to break down.

“I want to see my baby!,” he brushed her aside.

But the nurse quickly grabbed stopped him and said, “It’s impossible to enter the room now…, sir…please understand…, they’re doing everything they can… at least you can stay and wait with your wife…,”

Tibo couldn’t understand what was coming over him. His head was swirling as mix feelings of confusion, anger, anxiety and helplessness were violently vying against each other inside him. Anger prevailed.

A sudden rage overcame him and he threw everything he carried to the ground in a gesture of rebelliousness. Quickly coming to himself, he was too ashamed to apologize to the nurse and rushed out of the hospital. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

He began to aimlessly walk down the road oblivious to the Christmas lights, decors and children singing Christmas carols. He could not accept how things around him were so "good" when things for him had gone bad. They had done so much for this child, and now all their joy, hopes and plans were lost. “We had prayed so much!” he gritted his teeth in anger and disappointment.

The bells of a nearby Church started pealing. The last evening Mass had just ended. Tibo was heading towards that direction, and he began to cross paths with the Church goers. The street was suddenly filled with children’s laughter, cries and shrills. He wanted to cover his ears, it was too much, he couldn’t bear contemplating all that joy when he was about to lose his baby. As the crowd slowly faded away, Tibo found himself unexpectedly entering the Church.

There were still some people remaining inside. Some families went to pray before the life-size crèche. He occupied the pew closest to the door. As he sat down he was surprised to hear a rattling sound. Up to that moment he didn’t realize that he had slipped the baby rattle in his back pocket. He gently pulled it out and admired it once more. He started crying thinking that the baby would never grow up to play with it.

“I can only pray,” he said to himself. “I was stupid to act that way,” he rectified. “I must pray and trust God, He who gives life and takes it away.” He knelt down, his elbows rested on the creaking pew. His huge shaking rough hands were still holding on to the fragile toy.

When he found himself to be the only one inside, he slowly stood up and approached the crèche. Before the manger where the Child rested, he knelt and prayed. “My dear, Jesus…, my only son is dying…, he was to be our gift this Christmas…, he was going to be our all, and we have nothing more, why do you have to take him as well?”

He didn’t know what he was saying. Then as one truly speaking to another he added, “You see this baby rattle, Jesus? I bought it for him. It was going to be our little gift to him. And he won’t even grow up to play with it. But since you’re going to take him to Heaven with you, can you take this as our gift to you, so that you can share it with our son?”

Tibo unwrapped the rattle that let out some gentle clinking. He gently placed it in the Baby Jesus’ hand. As he left the Church, his ears suddenly heard a gentle rattling sound. “Someone’s playing with the baby rattle!”

He returns inside and runs towards the crèche. But the rattling sound has already stopped. Tibo arrives and finds the baby rattle on the ground. He picks it up and observes that  a blue thread was caught in its handle. He looks at the baby Jesus and notices that the statue was wrapped with a blue mantle.