"Father? What's 'snow'?"
King Huko looked up from the chunk of wood he was carving to see his son watching him with large, solemn eyes. "Snow? Where did you hear about snow?"
"Anui mentioned it in one of his stories." The little boy climbed up on a stool and clambered into his father's lap, picking up the royal medallion that lay on the king's chest and looking at it. The shiny gold amulet with its strange carvings had always fascinated the child, and though he didn't yet know of its power, he loved it when his father would let him play with it. Right now, though, it seemed less interesting than the odd word that was puzzling him so. He looked up at Huko again.
"Do you know what it is? Have you ever seen it?"
The king smiled down into the child's brown eyes, gently tugging his soft curls. "I've never seen it, Keili, but I have heard of it," he answered. "But why didn't you ask Anui, since you heard it in his story?"
"I'd rather ask you," Keili answered simply. Huko sighed silently.
"You know what rain is, don't you?" he asked. His son looked at him reproachfully.
"Of course I know what rain is, Father!" he exclaimed indignantly. "It rains here a lot." King Huko nodded.
"Well, snow is a little like rain," he said, "in that it's precipitation that falls from the sky."
"What's 'precip'tation'?"
"Well, it's...it's like rain," his father said, trying to think of how to explain it best. "When clouds drop the rain, it's called precipitation. It's the same way with snow, only snow is little, tiny particles of ice all clumped together in white flakes."
"Oh." Prince Keili sat quietly a minute, fiddling with the medallion, then looked up at his father again. "What's 'ice'?"
"Frozen water. When the temperature gets cold enough, water will freeze solid, and that's called ice. Snow is tiny, tiny little bits of ice, so small and fine that it's soft. Or," he added, "that's what I've heard."
"Oh." The little boy silently traced the figure of the angel on the medallion, thinking, before putting forth yet another question. "Why doesn't it ever snow here, Father?"
King Huko absent-midedly stroked his son's hair, gazing out the window at the green trees that bobbed and rustled lazily in the balmy tropical breeze. The stream quietly ran along beside the collection of huts, dropping away over miniature falls that tumbled under the wooden footbridges, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sounds of the surf crashing on the beach could be heard if one listened very carefully.
"We don't have the right climate for snow here," the king answered his son. "It's far too warm and mild." Keili pursed up his lips, looking pensive.
"Father? If God sent his son to earth in human form on Christmas, couldn't He make it snow, too? Anui said that Jesus coming was a miracle. Would snow be a miracle, too?" Huko smiled.
"Yes, it would be a small miracle," he said. "But He could do it."
The little boy sat quietly, running his father's blue sash through his chubby hands, thinking. "Father?" he said yet again. "Anui said that the baby Jesus being 'born of a virgin' was a miracle birth." He looked up at his father with wide, serious eyes. "Why was that so astonishing?"
"That," the king said firmly, "is a question for when you are older - much older."
Prince Keili considered this a moment, then reverted back to his former train of thought. "Do you suppose if I pray real hard tonight, God will pre- precip-"
"Precipitate?"
"Yes, that. Do you suppose He'd precip'tate some snow here?"
Huko gazed down into his son's hopeful face, a faintly mysterious smile hovering around his brown eyes.
"He may, Keili," he said, his fingers tracing the royal medallion. "He may."
"Father! Mother! FATHER!" The king and queen were abruptly yanked from the blissful realms of peaceful slumber by their six-year-old son crash-landing on them. Huko grunted and sat up, rubbing a bleary hand across his eyes.
"What is it, Keili? What happened?" The young prince peered up into his father's drowsy face.
"Father, what color is snow?" he asked breathlessly.
"It's white, darling," his mother answered as Huko yawned cavernously. "And very cold."
The royal couple winced as their small son squealed piercingly and peeled out of the hut, joining the rest of the astonished villagers as they slowly gathered outdoors.
Mohea got up and pushed aside the curtains, her eyes widening at the sight that greeted her. Two feet of fine, white powder covered everything; tree branches bowed under the unaccustomed weight of snow, and the stream still gurgled faintly beneath a thick layer of ice. Amazed cries from the islanders came drifting in through the window of the hut, and Keili's high, child voice could be heard, exclaiming over and over, "He answered my prayer! He sent the snow!"
The lovely young woman pursed her lips, turning away from the window to face her husband, who had finally gotten up and was pulling on his tunic.
"You used the medallion, didn't you?" she said, not altogether approvingly. The king nodded, running his fingers through his curly hair.
"I did," he affirmed, not looking at all abashed. "And before you scold me, I also wished for warmer clothes to be provided to everyone - nobody will die of hypothermia." Mohea put her slender, brown hands on her hips.
"It's not that," she said with a frown. "Keili thinks God sent the snow. What do you think that will do to his faith when he finds out it was you? What will that do to his faith when he finds out it wasn't a miraculous answer to his prayers?"
Huko took her hands and drew her to the bed, sitting down on it with her beside him. "Mohea my love, who do you think gave the medallion its power? Who could take it away just as easily? Who could have prevented the snow from coming, even though I wished it, and who gave me the ability to voice said wish?" He tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, rubbing her hands gently. "Just because I spoke the words doesn't make it any less of a miracle. God's hand was in it, and no matter who or what He worked through, nothing will change that. By the time Keili is old enough to know about the medallion, he'll understand that."
The young queen relaxed, and a small smile spread across her face. "You're right, of course," she admitted. "I wasn't thinking properly." Huko chuckled and pulled his wife to his side, placing a soft kiss on her temple.
"Merry Christmas, my lady."
"Merry Christmas, my king."
Merry Christmas, everyone. :)