When I was a small child in the North Carolina public schools some 60 years ago, a favorite teacher read us the ancient legend of the fir tree.

In the story, trees and animals assumed personalities, conversing about the coming winter. The cruel north wind began to blow, and one little wounded bird needed help.

Unable to fly south with his family and friends, he was left behind to face the harsh weather. Seeking refuge in the tall oaks and other great trees of the forest, he was turned away. But a lonely fir tree welcomed the little bird, offered shelter in her thick branches, promising warmth, safety and food.

As the legend has it, all the other trees lost their leaves that winter. But because of the fir tree's kindness, nature allowed her to keep her leaves, so other little birds and animals might also find a refuge.

Like many self-centered humans, the various trees of the dense forest thought only of themselves, showing little regard for anyone else sharing nature's realm.

Many people today are blessed with necessities and even luxuries, while others lack basic essentials of food, clothing, shelter — even a compassionate smile. Behooved by tradition and moral example to give to the less fortunate, we should do so willingly.

Numerous churches and institutions take care of such functions with noted benevolence, but when an individual does something good, “just because,” it is then that he is truly blessed. It requires as much grace to give as to receive.

The allegory of the fir tree is obviously sentimental, but it provides a poignant lesson for humanity. I always felt warm as I watched my late parents share with people less fortunate, as well as taking note of creatures great and small. My father never saw a wounded bird he didn't like. I am glad, though often failing, I've attempted to emulate his kindness.

During this season the legend of the fir tree holds special merit, at least it does for me.