Welcome,
I'm Joanne and this is Drift Off,
A soft place for you to land at the end of the day.
I'd like to offer you a calming bedtime story tonight,
Softly told,
With a nice,
Soft,
Gentle voice that I hope will help you feel nurtured,
Safe,
And at ease so you can drift off.
So are you ready for a bedtime story?
Well then,
Get comfy and cozy in your bed and snuggle up tight and let me be your guide now.
Sweet dreams my friend,
And good night.
Tonight I have chosen to read two short stories by Louisa Alcott,
And I hope that with the world feeling so heavy right now that they provide a soothing balm for your mind and spirit.
The first story is called Dandelion,
And the second story I'll read is called Tilly's Christmas.
Both stories remind us that faith,
Hope,
And love are such powerful forces,
And we'll see how these forces touch the lives of the people within the story.
So taking this time now to get comfy and cozy under the covers,
Settling in comfortably into this warm,
Safe space where you can finally let go and relax.
Noticing the sensation of those soft sheets and blankets against your skin.
Letting your head sink down into that soft pillow.
Then go into that surface below that is lovingly supporting you.
Noticing the sounds around you.
The sounds that are close by.
The sounds that are further away.
And all of these external sounds only serve to help you relax deeper and deeper.
And now taking a nice,
Full,
Comfortable breath.
Holding it at the top.
Gathering all the tension from the day as you hold.
And now letting go.
That's right.
Letting go of the breath.
Letting go of tension.
Letting go of the day.
Letting go of any thoughts or worries for the time being.
Knowing that you are safe now.
And that it's safe to relax.
Each word I read helps you let go more and more.
Each word I speak helps you relax deeper and deeper.
Each word is like taking one step down on a beautiful winding staircase that will lead you all the way down into a sound and restful sleep.
Each word.
Each step down.
Closer and closer.
As we now begin our story.
Dandelion Down by the sea lived Ben the Fisherman with his wife and little son who was called Dandelion because of his curly yellow hair that covered his head with a golden fuzz.
A very happy family for Ben was kind and industrious.
Hedy,
His wife,
A cheerful busy creature and Dandelion the jolliest 3 year old baby who always made sanpies and paddled on the beach.
But one day a great trouble came to them.
Ben and his fellow fishermen sailed blithely away as usual as Hedy watched the fleet of boats out of the bay thinking how pretty they looked with the sunshine on them while Dandelion stood clapping his chubby hands and saying as he always did,
Daddy come in soon.
But daddy did not come soon that time for a great storm arose and when some of the boats came scutting home at nightfall Ben's was not among them.
All night the gale raged and in the morning Ben's boat lay empty and broken on the shore.
His mates shook their heads when they saw the wreck and drew their rough hands over their eyes for Ben was a good seaman and they knew he would never desert his boat alive.
They looked for him far and wide but could hear nothing of him and felt sure that he had perished in the storm.
They tried to comfort poor Hedy but she would not be comforted.
Her heart seemed broken and if it had not been for her baby her neighbours feared that she would have gone to join Ben in his grave under the sea.
Dandelion didn't understand why everyone was so sad and why his father stayed away so long but he never lost his cheerfulness,
Never gave up hoping or stopped saying with a contented smile,
Daddy come in soon.
The sunshiny little face was Hedy's only comfort.
The sight of the fuzzy yellow head bobbing around the house alone made it endurable and the touch of her loving baby hands kept her from the despair which made her long to end her sorrow in the sea.
People don't believe in fairies nowadays,
Nevertheless good spirits still exist and help us in our times of trouble even better than the little people we used to read about.
One of these household spirits is called Love and it took the shape of Dandelion to comfort poor Hedy.
Another is called Labour,
A beautiful happy spirit this is and it did its part so well that there was little time for bitter thoughts or vain regrets.
For Hedy's spinning wheel must go in order to earn bread for Dandelion whose mouth was always ready for food like a hungry bird.
Busily hummed the wheel and as it flew it seemed to catch an echo of the baby's cheerful song saying over and over,
Daddy,
Come in soon,
Till Hedy stopped crying as she worked and listened to the cheerful roar.
Yes,
I shall see my good Ben again if I wait patiently.
Baby takes comfort in saying that and I will too,
Though the poor dear will get tired of it soon,
She said.
But Dandelion didn't get tired.
He firmly believed what he said and nothing could change his mind.
He had been much troubled at seeing the boat laid up on the beach all broken and dismantled,
But his little mind couldn't take in the idea of shipwreck and death.
So after thinking it over,
He decided that Daddy was waiting somewhere for a new boat to be sent to bring him home.
This idea was so strong that the child gathered together all of his toy boats,
For he had many as they were his favourite plaything,
And launched them one after another,
Telling them to find his father and bring him home.
As Dandelion was not allowed to play on the beach except at low tide,
The little boat sailed safely away on the receding waves and the child was sure that some of them would get safely into the distant port where Daddy was waiting.
All the boats were launched at last,
All sailed bravely away,
But none came back and little Dandelion was much disappointed.
He babbled about it to himself,
Told the peeps and the horseshoes,
The snails and the lobsters of his trouble,
Begged the gulls to fly away and find Daddy.
And every windy night when the sea dashed on the shore and the shutters rattled,
He would want the lamp put in the window as it used to be when they'd expect Ben and tried to make home look cheerful even before he got there.
Petty used to humour the child,
Though it made her heart ache to know that the light shone in vain.
At times Dandelion would prance about the room in his little shirt and talk about Daddy as happily as if long months had not passed without bringing him back.
In his big old fashioned cradle the boy would lie,
Looking more like a dandelion than ever in his yellow flannel nightgown,
Playing with his toes or rocking himself to and fro,
Calling the cradle his boat and blithely telling his mother that he was sailing far away to find Daddy.
Even tired of play,
He lay still and asked her to sing to him.
She had no heart for the happy old sea song she used to sing for lullabies,
So she sung hymns in her soft,
Motherly voice till the blue eyes closed and the golden head lay still,
Looking so pretty with the circle of bright hair above the rosy face.
My little saint,
Petty called him,
And though she often wept sadly as she watched him,
The bitterness of her grief passed away and a patient hope came to her,
For the child's firm faith impressed her deeply.
The pious music of the sweet old hymns comforted her sore heart,
And daily labour kept her cheerful in spite of herself.
The neighbours wandered at the change that came over her,
But she could not explain it,
And no one knew that the three good spirits called love,
Labour and hope were working their pleasant miracles.
Six long months went by,
And no one ever thought of seeing Ben again,
No one but his little son who still watched for him here,
And his wife who waited to meet him hereafter.
One spring day something happened.
The house was as tidy as ever.
The wheel hummed briskly as Hetty sung softly to herself with a cheerful face,
Though there were white hairs among the brown and her eyes had a thoughtful,
Absent look at times.
Dandelion,
More chubby and cheery than ever,
Sat at her feet,
With the sunshine making a golden glory of his yellow hair as he tried his new boat in the tub of water his mother kept for her little sailor,
Or tugged away with his fat fingers at a big needle which he was trying to pull through a bit of cloth intended for his sail.
The faithful little soul had not forgotten his father,
But had come to the conclusion that the reason his boats never prospered was because they hadn't large enough sails,
So he was intent on rigging a new boat that was recently given to him with a sail that could not fail to waft Ben safely home.
With his mouth puckered up,
His downy eyebrows knit,
And both hands pulling at the big needle,
He was so wrapped in his work that he didn't mind the stopping of the wheel when Hetty fell into a daydream,
Thinking of the happy time when she and Ben should meet again.
Sitting so,
Neither heard a step come softly over the sand,
Neither saw an eager brown face peer in at the door,
And neither knew for a minute that Ben was watching them with a love and longing in his heart that made him tremble.
Dandelions saw him first,
For as he pulled the thread through with a triumphant jerk,
He lost his balance,
Tumbled over,
And lay staring up at the tall man with his blue eyes so wide open they looked as if they would never shut again.
All of a sudden he shouted with a joyful shout,
Daddy's Tummin!
And the next instant vanished ship and all in the arms of the man who wore the rough jacket.
Over went the spinning wheel as Hetty vanished likewise,
And for a time there was nothing but sobbing and kissing,
Clinging and thanking heaven for its kindness to them.
When they grew quieter and Ben got into his old chair with his wife on one knee and his boy on the other,
He told them how he was wrecked in the gale,
Picked up by a ship,
And only able to get back after months of sickness and delay.
My boatie fetched him,
Said Dandelion,
Feeling that everything had turned out just as he expected.
So it did,
My precious.
Least ways your faith helped,
I haven't a doubt,
Cried Hetty,
Hugging the curly-headed child close as she told Ben all that had happened.
Ben didn't say much,
But a few great tears rolled down the rough blue jacket as he looked from the strange sail with its two big stitches to the little son,
Whose love he firmly believed had kept him safe through many dangers and brought him home at last.
When the fine new boat was built,
No one thought it strange that Ben named it Dandelion.
No one laughed at the little sail which always hung over the fireplace in the small house.
And long years after,
When Ben was an old man and sat by the door with his grandchildren on his knee,
The story which always pleased them best was that which ended with the funny words,
Daddy Tuminsune.
Tilly's Christmas Gift I'm so glad tomorrow is Christmas because I'm going to have lots of presents.
So am I glad,
Though I don't expect any presents but a pair of mittens.
And so am I,
But I shan't have any presents at all.
As the three little girls trudged home from school they said these things,
And as Tilly spoke both the others looked at her with pity and some surprise,
For she spoke cheerfully and they wondered how she could be happy when she was so poor she could have no presents on Christmas.
Wouldn't you wish you could find a purse full of money right here in the path,
Said Kate,
The child who was going to have lots of presents.
Oh,
Don't I,
If I could keep it honestly,
And Tilly's eyes shone at the very thought.
What would you buy?
Asked Bessie,
Rubbing her cold hands and longing for her mittens.
I'd buy a pair of large warm blankets,
A load of wood,
A shawl for my mother and a pair of shoes for me,
And if there was enough left I'd give Bessie a new hat and then she needn't wear Ben's old felt one,
Answered Tilly.
The girls laughed at that,
But Bessie pulled the funny hat over her ears and said she was much obliged but she'd rather have candy.
Let's look and maybe we can find a purse,
People are always going about with money at Christmas time and someone may lose it here,
Said Kate.
So as they walked along the snowy road they looked about them,
Half in earnest,
Half in fun.
Suddenly Tilly sprang forward exclaiming,
I see it,
I found it.
The others followed,
But all stopped disappointed,
For it wasn't a purse,
It was only a little bird.
It lay upon the snow with its wings spread and feebly fluttering as if too weak to fly.
Its little feet were benumbed with cold,
Its once bright eyes were dull with pain,
And instead of a blithe song it could only utter a faint chirp now and then as if crying for help.
Nothing but a stupid old robin,
How provoking,
Cried Kate,
Sitting down to rest.
I shan't touch it,
I found one once and took care of it,
And the ungrateful thing flew away the minute it was well,
Said Bessie,
Creeping under Kate's shawl and putting her hands under her chin to warm them.
Poor little birdie,
How pitiful he looks,
And how glad he must be to see someone coming to help him.
I'll pick him up gently and carry him home to mother.
Don't be frightened dear,
I'm your friend.
And Tilly knelt down in the snow,
Stretching her hand to the bird with the tenderest pity in her face.
Don't stop for that thing,
It's getting late and cold.
Let's go on and look for the purse,
They said,
Moving away.
You wouldn't leave it to die,
Cried Tilly.
I'd rather have the bird than the money,
So I shan't look anymore.
The purse wouldn't be mine,
And I should only be tempted to keep it.
But this poor thing will thank and love me,
And I'm so glad I came in time.
Gently lifting the bird,
Tilly felt its tiny cold claws cling to her hand,
And saw its dim eyes brighten as it nestled down with a grateful chirp.
Now I've got a Christmas present after all,
She said,
Smiling as they walked on.
I always wanted a bird,
And this one will be such a pretty pet for me.
He'll fly away the first chance he gets,
And die anyhow,
So you'd better not waste your time over him,
Said Bessie.
He can't pay for you taking care of him,
And my mother says it isn't worthwhile to help folks that can't help us,
Added Kate.
My mother says,
Do as you'd be done by,
And I'm sure I'd like anyone to help me if I was dying of cold and hunger.
Love your neighbor as yourself,
Is another of her sayings.
This bird is my little neighbor,
And I'll love and care for him,
As I often wish our rich neighbor would love and care for us,
Answered Tilly,
Breathing her warm breath over the benumbed bird,
Who looked up at her with confiding eyes,
Quick to feel and know a friend.
What a funny girl you are,
Said Kate,
Caring for that silly bird,
And talking about loving your neighbor in that sober way.
Mr.
King don't care a bit for you,
And never will,
Though he knows how poor you are,
So I don't think your plan amounts to much.
I believe it though,
And shall do my part anyway.
Good night,
I hope you'll all have a Merry Christmas,
And lots of pretty things,
Answered Tilly as they parted.
Her eyes were full,
And she felt so poor as she went on alone toward the little old house where she lived.
It would have been so pleasant to know that she was going to have some of the pretty things all children love to find in their full stockings on Christmas morning,
And pleasant her still to have been able to give her mother something nice.
So many comforts were needed,
And there was no hope of getting them,
For they could barely get food and fire.
Never mind,
Birdie,
We'll make the best of what we have,
And be merry in spite of everything.
You shall have a Happy Christmas anyway,
And I know God won't forget us if everyone else does.
She stopped a minute to wipe her eyes,
And lean her cheek against the bird's soft breast,
Finding great comfort in the little creature,
Though it could only love her and nothing more.
See,
Mother,
What a nice present I found,
She cried,
Going in with a cherry face that was like sunshine in the dark room.
I'm glad of that,
Dearie,
For I haven't been able to get my little girl anything but a rosy apple.
Poor Bird,
Give it some of your warm bread and milk.
Why,
Mother,
What a big bowlful!
I'm afraid you gave me all the milk,
Said Tilly,
Smiling over the nice steaming supper that stood ready for her.
I've had plenty,
Dear.
Sit down and dry your wet feet,
And put the bird in my basket on this warm flannel.
Tilly peeped into the closet and saw nothing there but dry bread.
Mother's given me all the milk and is going without her tea cause she knows I'm hungry.
Now I'll surprise her and she'll have a good supper too.
She's going to Splitwood and I'll fix it while she's gone.
So Tilly put down the old teapot,
Carefully poured out part of the milk,
And from her pocket produced a great plummy bun that one of the schoolchildren had given her and she had saved for her mother.
A slice of the dry bread was nicely toasted and the bit of butter set by her put on it.
When her mother came in,
There was the table drawn up in a warm place,
A hot cup of tea ready,
And Tilly and Birdie waiting for her.
Such a poor little supper,
And yet such a happy one.
For love,
Charity and contentment were guests here,
And that Christmas Eve was a simple one than that up at the great house,
Where lights shone,
Fires blazed,
And a great tree glittered,
And music sounded as the children danced and played.
We must go to bed early,
For we've only wood enough to last over tomorrow.
I shall be paid for my work the day after,
And then we can get some,
Said Tilly's mother,
As they sat by the fire.
If my bird was only a fairy bird,
And would give us three wishes,
How nice it would be.
Poor dear,
He can't give me anything.
But it's no matter,
Answered Tilly,
Looking at the robin who lay in the basket with his head under his wing.
He can give you one thing,
Tilly,
The pleasure of doing good.
That is one of the sweetest things in life,
And the poor can enjoy it as well as the rich.
As her mother spoke,
With her tired hand softly stroking her daughter's hair,
Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window,
Saying in a frightened whisper,
I saw a face,
A man's face looking in.
It's gone now,
But I truly saw it.
Some traveler attracted by the lights,
Perhaps.
I'll go and see.
And Tilly's mother went to the door.
No one was there.
The wind blew cold,
The stars shone,
The snow lay white on field and wood,
And the Christmas moon was glittering in the sky.
What sort of face was it,
Asked Tilly's mother,
Coming back.
A pleasant sort of face,
I think,
But I was so startled I don't quite know what it was like.
I wish we had a curtain there,
Said Tilly.
I like to have our lights shine out in the evening,
For the road is dark and lonely just here,
And the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to people's eyes as they go by.
We can do so little for our neighbors.
I'm glad to cheer the way for them.
Now put those poor old shoes to dry and go to bed,
Dearie.
I'll come soon.
Tilly went,
Taking her bird with her to sleep in his basket nearby,
Lest he should be lonely in the night.
Soon the little house was dark and still,
And no one saw the Christmas spirits at their work that night.
When Tilly opened the door next morning,
She gave a loud cry,
Clapped her hands and then stood still,
Quite speechless with wonder and delight.
There before the door lay a great pile of wood,
All ready to burn.
A big bundle and a basket,
With a lovely bouquet of roses,
Holly and evergreen tied to the handle.
Oh mother,
Did the fairies do it?
Cried Tilly,
Pale with her happiness as she seized the basket while her mother took in the bundle.
Yes dear,
The best and dearest fairy in the world,
Called Charity.
She walks abroad at Christmas time,
Does beautiful deeds like this,
And does not stay to be thanked,
Answered her mother with full eyes as she undid the parcel.
There they were,
The warm thick blankets,
The comfortable shawls,
The new shoes,
And best of all,
A pretty winter hat for Bessie.
The basket was full of good things to eat,
And on the flowers lay a paper saying,
For the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself.
Mother,
I really think my bird is a fairy bird,
And all these splendid things come from him,
Said Tilly,
Laughing and crying with joy.
It really did seem so,
For as she spoke,
The robin flew to the table,
Hopped to the bouquet,
And perching among the roses,
Began to chirp with all his little might.
The sun streamed in on flowers,
Bird,
And happy child,
And no one saw a shadow glide away from the window.
No one ever knew that Mr.
King had seen and heard the little girls the night before,
Or dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a lesson from the poor neighbor.
And Tilly's bird was a fairy bird,
For by her love and tenderness to the helpless thing,
She brought good gifts to herself,
Happiness to the unknown giver of them,
And a faithful little friend who did not fly away,
But stayed with her till the snow was gone,
Making summer for her in the wintertime.
Each word is like taking a step down a beautiful winding staircase.
Each step down,
Closer and closer to that restful place where no one needs you or wants anything from you.
Just dropping down,
All the way down,
Enjoying that wonderful feeling of your warm soft bed.
It feels comfy and cozy,
And you feel safe.
And as you drift off to sleep,
My friend,
You feel secure knowing that in this moment,
Everything is okay.
And every time you listen to my bedtime stories,
It just becomes easier and easier for you to get a sound and restful sleep.
Each time you listen,
You sleep deeply and restfully,
And when you awake,
You feel refreshed and ready for a brand new day ahead,
Feeling calmer and calmer,
More and more at ease.
And the calmer and more at ease you feel,
The better you sleep at night.
And the better you sleep at night,
The calmer you feel.
All you need to do now,
My friend,
Is to just let go and allow yourself to drift deeper and deeper down,
All the way down into that sound and restful sleep.
Got it?
You You You You You You You You You You You
