EP. 6: The Feathers That Wove Life

The frosted windowpane shimmered, candlelight dancing across its surface like a celestial reflection as if the heavens themselves were peering in. Inside, the family gathered close, their breaths mingling with the warmth of the hearth, their hearts alight with anticipation. Grandmother sat at the center, her silver hair glowing like a halo in the firelight. In her hands, she cradled an ornament—six delicate geese, their forms frozen in graceful flight, each one a tiny masterpiece of glass and light.

“This,” she began, her voice soft as falling snow yet carrying the weight of eternity, “is the story of creation—how God shaped the world with His words, and how we, too, are part of His grand design.”

She lifted the first goose, its body clear as crystal, and placed it gently into the youngest child’s hand. The child stared at it, transfixed, as though holding a piece of the divine. “This,” Grandmother whispered, “is the beginning. Before there was anything, there was darkness—a vast, endless void. But then God spoke, and His words were like a song. ‘Let there be light,’ He said, and the darkness gave way to brilliance. The first day was born, and with it, the promise of all that was to come.”

The second goose, a blend of azure and pearl, was passed to another child. Its wings seemed to ripple like water, and its body gleamed like the sky at dawn. “This,” Grandmother continued, “tells of the second day, when God separated the heavens from the earth. He stretched out the sky like a canopy and gathered the waters below, creating a balance—a harmony between the heights and the depths.”

The third goose, adorned with emerald-green wings, was placed into another small palm. “On the third day,” Grandmother said, her voice growing warmer, “God called forth the land from the waters. He clothed the earth in grasses, trees, and flowers—every shade of green you can imagine. It was as if the world itself was waking up, stretching its limbs and blooming with life.”

Her fingers hovered over the fourth goose, its feathers shimmering with tiny stars. She held it up, and the firelight caught its surface, scattering flecks of light across the room. “This one,” she said, her voice filled with reverence, “is the sun, moon, and stars. On the fourth day, God placed them in the sky—the sun to rule the day, the moon to guard the night, and the stars to remind us of His infinite wonder. They are the lights that guide our days and nights, the markers of time and seasons.”

The fifth goose, its body gleaming like liquid silver, was passed to the next child. “On the fifth day,” Grandmother explained, “God filled the seas and the skies with life. Whales sang in the depths, birds soared through the heavens, and the waters teemed with creatures of every kind. It was as if the world had found its voice, and its song was one of joy and abundance.”

Finally, she held the sixth goose aloft. This one was golden, its wings outstretched as if in flight, its body radiant with a warmth that seemed to come from within. “This,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion, “is you. On the sixth day, God created mankind—men and women, made in His image. He gave you the earth to care for, to nurture, and to cherish. You are His stewards, His beloved, the crowning jewel of His creation.”

The children sat in awed silence, their hands clutching the tiny geese as if holding the weight of creation itself. Outside, the snow fell in hushed reverence, blanketing the world in a stillness that felt sacred. In the glow of the firelight, the story became more than words—it became a living, breathing truth, etched into their hearts like the first spark of divine love.

Grandmother leaned back, her eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the stillness. “And on the seventh day,” she said softly, “God rested. He looked at all He had made and saw that it was good. And so, He blessed the day and made it holy—a reminder that even in our busy lives, we must pause, reflect, and give thanks for the beauty of His creation.”

The children looked at their geese, each one a symbol of a day, a piece of the story, a fragment of the divine. And in that moment, they understood—they were part of something vast, something eternal, something infinitely beautiful. The geese, like the days of creation, were not just ornaments but reminders of a love that had shaped the world and would forever hold it in its embrace.