On that first Christmas, it is said, the night
was wrapped in a bitter chill. The small fire in the
stable was nearly out, and the Mother Mary worried
that her baby would be cold. she turned to the animals
about her and asked them for help.
"Could you blow on the embers," she asked the ox, "so the
fire might continue to keep my son warm?"
But the ox lay sound asleep on the stable floor and did
not hear her. Next, mary asked the donkey to breathe life
back into the fire, but the sleeping donkey did not hear
Mary either. Nor did the horse or sheep. She wondered what
to do.
Suddenly, Mary heard a fluttering of little wings. Looking
up, she saw a plain, brown-coloured little robin fly into
the stall. This robin had heard Mary calling to the animals
and had come to help her himself. he went over to the dying
fire and flapped his wings hard.
His wings were like little bellows, huffing and puffing air
onto the embers, until they glowed bright red again. He
continued to fan the fire, singing all the while, until the
ashes began to kindle.
With his beak, the robin picked up some fresh, dry sticks
and tossed them into the fire. As he did, a flame suddenly
burst forth and burned the little bird's breast a bright red.
But the robin simply continued to fan the fire until it
crackled brightly and warmed the entire stable. The
Baby Jesus slept happily.
Mary thanked and praised the robin for all he had done.
She looked tenderly at his red breast, burned by the flame,
and said "From now on, let your red breast be a blessed
reminder of your noble deed."
And to this day, the robin's red breast covers his humble heart.