 The Mutual Broadcasting System in Cooperation with Family Theater Incorporated presents Blessed Are They starring Margaret O'Brien Kenny Baker is your host. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. He isn't it wonderful, this Christmas spirit? You see it in the smile on her friend's face. You hear it in his merry Christmas to you. You feel it in your home where the coming of the Christ child always seems to bring your family closer together in love and understanding. Maybe you wonder why it can't be like that all the time. Well, we at the Family Theater think it can if you pray for it. We believe that the family that prays together stays together always. Our story this week is about a family with faith and prayer, and here's a young lady who will be its star, Miss Margaret O'Brien. Hello, Margaret. Hello, Mr. Baker. Are you going to sing for us? Well, I think it's a good idea, and I think a Christmas carol would be nice. How about Silent Night? Oh, yes, Mr. Baker. I think that's beautiful. All right, Margaret. This is for you. So... This is a story of a certain family on a certain Christmas Eve in London. It all might have happened in New York where the children call the lovable old fellow who represents the spirit of giving Santa Claus, or in general where they call him Chris Kringle. Perhaps it did happen in those places too, but this story took place in London where it's Father Christmas who is the bringer of gifts. It was cold out there on the balcony, but I do love the hymns of the carolers. They seem to make Christmas Eve so real somehow. It was fun hearing them anyway. Yes, it was. Well, we must make everything ready for Father Christmas before your children run off to bed. Oh, I nearly forgotten. The tree is not quite ready yet, is it? Will you put my decorations on the tree now? I suppose so, dear. Here, I'll help you, Robin. Mother. Yes, Joan? Is the tree beginning to look tooly beautiful? Yes, dear. Beautiful. Shall I see it for you? No. I can guess. Has the silver icicles hanging down like you said last year's had? Oh, yes. Only many more of them. It almost seems a tree of silver. And all the lovely colored balls, red and silver and gold, are they on it too? We're just putting the last ones on now, Joan. Father and I. Yes, and then we put the star at the top. Turn the colored tree lights, and there she'll be in all her glory. The most beautiful Christmas tree that ever was ready to greet Father Christmas. Yes, dear. Did you say all the ornaments were already on the tree? Well, of course not. Here, Robin, here, we're monopolizing all the fun. Give your sister that big orange fellow there and help her put it on the tree. All right. Here it is, Joan. You just hold it by the wire. That's right. Now, just here on this branch. Just wind the wire around the branch and it will hold. There. Is that all right? Perfect. Does it help to make the tree even more beautiful? Indeed. It's the crowning touch. And now, Lawrence, the star. Oh, yes, the star. Now, if I can only manage to reach the top of the tree, well, I didn't realize I'd bought such a big one. No, it's just a bit too high. I know, Father. Let me stand on your shoulders. Then I could reach it. And what if you should lose your balance? How would the tree look if you fell on it? Robin could be a decoration too. But seriously, I think perhaps we'd better wait until the morning to put the star at the top of the tree. I'll bring the step ladder up from the cellar. But that still needn't stop us from turning on the lights, dear. Rather not. The switch is just there at your side, Robin. You turn them on. But put out the room lights first. I shall. There now. Perfect. It is rather all right, isn't it, Martha? Yes, dear. Somehow makes me feel the children's age again. The lights are all on now, Joan. They're awfully pretty. Are they the same color as last year? Very nearly. Except that where there used to be a green light, there's an orange one. The lamp was broken and Father bought a new one. I like orange better. And now you two bed time off with you. But Father! No, no. No arguments. You know Father. Christmas overlooks young children who argue with their fathers. Good night, Father. Good night, Robin. Good night, Mother. Sleep tight, darling. I'm going to sleep fast so that it will soon be morning. But I must sleep before you are, Joan. Good night. Good night. I'll bet you're not. Good night, Father. Good night, Joan girl. Night, Mother. Good night, darling. Mother. Yes, dear. What is it, Joan? Well, I... I was just wondering. You see, Robin says that Father Christmas will bring any girl or boy anything they want. If he only knows they want it badly enough. Well, Joan, of course he does if he can, but he has such a lot of children to take care of. But are there so very many of them who can't see? Why, some of them can't, dear? Because I... I thought perhaps if Father Christmas knew how very badly I wanted to see, he'd give me good eyes for a Christmas gift. Then I wouldn't mind if he forgot the doll or the carriage or anything else. Do you think he might, Mother? Martha. Joan, darling, listen. What you say you want is one of the things that Father Christmas can't give you. Remember, I told you that you were blessed with a kind of eyes all your own. You see with the touch of your fingers. You see with your ears. You hear a thousand, thousand beautiful sounds that other children, even Robin, never hear. You see in so many ways that they can't. I know. But if I could really, really see just once. Joan, dear, Mother and Father wish you might too. But that's one gift you must not ask of Father Christmas. You must ask someone else. I know. I do always. But I've begun to believe he doesn't hear me. He always hears, Joan. When he has time, perhaps he'll answer me. Won't he? I wonder if he likes the singing too. He might be coming near just to hear it. Do you think he might? I think he might. No. No, he won't. I know. Joan, dear, you mustn't lose faith. I've tried to keep on praying. But I know that I'll always be blind. Joan, it's just that you're tired tonight. Come along. I'll tuck you in. You needn't, Mother. Then you can stay here with Father and watch the carolers from the window. Oh, Lawrence. She's always prayed with such confidence to think of her losing it, perhaps. Lawrence, do you believe, truly believe there's any chance? Who knows? You recall what the specialist said, that as she grew older, the nerves might just probably adjust themselves, but that the chances were one in 50, one in 100. If only it could be. Yes, and if only we were wise enough or strong enough to help her keep her faith. Merry Christmas to you, officer. And a shame to you, Milk. A bit murky for an early Christmas morning, I did now. What is that? Well, tell me, Milk, has it proved a good Christmas for you? Your customers, I mean. Oh, I won't complain. You can see in my cart there, ties and anchors sheaves and such like. One party, you can give me a gold collar button. At least, it looks like gold. That's the way of it. Remember the milkman, the postman? Everyone who serves him during the year, except the bobbies. It's hardly fair. Doesn't seem so well. Let's take the moment of their milk. Solid gold collar button. Oh, Merry Christmas to you, sir. Oh, Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, officer. Was you looking for someone or someplace? Why do you ask? Well, I wondered what you could be doing on Burberry Square at this ungodly hour of Christmas morning, and you were stranger. You are, aren't you? Why, I suppose I am rather a stranger to a good many here. I thought so. And yet, I... Where have I seen you before? Oh, several places, perhaps. And now, if you'll forgive me, I must go on. You see, I've been sent for. By someone here? By someone in the home of Mr. Lawrence Carson. Carson? Oh, he lives right in this square. Let's see now. I'm not sure of the house, but, uh, milk will now. Wait a moment. He just went beyond the house here, making a delivery to the back entrance. I'll ask him. Hear me? Here. You. Stranger. Hello. Where are you? Where are you? Now, who do you think you're hiding from? Look. Disappeared into thin air. Where Lawrence v... Don't you wake up when you have a visitor? Oh, who are you? Weren't you expecting me? Are you Father Christmas? Father Christmas? You know, I'm not at all sure that that isn't the way some people think of me. But you don't look at all like the Father Christmas we've always heard about. Where is your long white beard and your red suit? I, uh, don't seem to have them, do I? Will you forgive me, Joan? Oh, you look very nice anyway. And you're certainly not old enough to have a white beard. Would it be important if I asked you how old you are? I'm eleven and a half. Well, I'm probably a good deal older than you think. What would be your guess? Oh, let me see. About... about thirty-three? Thirty-three? Yes, I suppose I am thirty-three. Don't you know how old you are? Oh, it's just that I forgot to remember. But you're wondering what I've come for. Come now, I'll take you in to see the tree. See it, but I... But you can. Just as surely as you see me now. Oh, I... is... is this really seeing? This is the realest seeing there is, Joan. Truly? Truly. I feel almost like crying. But I mustn't because then I couldn't see through the tears. You can't see through tears, can you? I don't believe most people can. And now, the tree is waiting. But, Mother and Father... I'm sure they won't mind. But won't we wake them up? No. They sound asleep. Put the slippers on and your robe. Here, I'll help you with the slippers. Already? You'd better guide me. Take my hand. Very well, I'll guide. It's right along the hole here and through the door. There's your tree, Joan. Lights and all. Oh! Is it as beautiful as you'd hoped? Oh, more beautiful. A million, million times more beautiful. I can't believe it's real. It's real enough. Are you certain there's nothing about it that you would like changed? Changed? A light, perhaps? Now, see, here is a blue light. As a matter of fact, it's the only blue one on the whole tree and yet it's way down here in back. Why shouldn't we move it up to a more honored spot? Do you think we could? We can, but we shall. To there and into there. What do you say to that? It's splendid. Oh, this is fun. Did you know that I helped to put some of the decorations on before? But I couldn't see them then. You know, I still can't understand how it is that I'm seeing now. Don't you ask, Joan. Just keep on looking. Hello, what's this? What? A tree, the star for the top of the tree. Father couldn't reach it and he planned to put it on the tree in the morning when he could bring the ladder from the cellar. That seems a lot of trouble for him. Suppose we were to do it instead. Just you and I. We do it. Why not? Now, you hold the star. There. All right. Oh, what color do you call this? Of the star, gold, Joan. It's pure gold color. Pure gold. Now, I'm going to lift you up till you're standing on my shoulders. Ready now? Up we go. Wee! Can you reach the top? Yes, I just can. I'm putting it on. Just a moment. There. Now you can let me down, please. Very well. Down it is. Oh, I say that's a fine piece of work, Joan. Just look at it up there. Yes, you're quite the most beautiful star I've ever seen. I'm not sure that it's not the most beautiful I've ever seen. But now, back to bed. I'll carry you this time. Up you go. One last look. All right. Give those eyes of yours a great big drink. All ready. Don't forget the lights. Oh, I forgot to look to see my stocking. You'd best wait till morning for that. Now, off with slippers and robe and back into bed. Under the covers. You're going now, aren't you? Joan, when you wake up and it seems dark, remember the lights shining on the tree. And you have my word for it that someday you'll see them. Really see them again. You see, Joan, you won't be sure about me when you wake up again. You may not even believe that I was here at all, but you must make yourself believe. You must make yourself have faith in my promise. Remember, Joan, I've promised you. If you believe and pray, you'll see the lights again. Why? You may wonder. You may question why I've let you see and then wait, perhaps through a long darkness, before you see again. Then remember that I also told you this, Joan. It is not enough that I should come to you, but you must find the way to me, along the road of suffering and faith and prayer. I know that you will find that road and finding it, you will help make it clear to both the blind and the unseeing. You shall see the lights again. Goodbye, Joan. And Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. I tell you, the man simply disappeared. I thought I was talking to him and just started to go after you when he dropped out as sight pretty as ever was. Oh, I see. That's a bit signal, officer. He must have gone into an house or turned a corner. He didn't have time to do neither. Well, I can't be here talking about your hallucinations. I've worked to do. Let's see now, do for the Dunham's. Mighty strange, I call it. Well, if you want to know what I call it, I call it Umbug. Who is that so? And what is your friend, the milkman, called Umbug? You, out of nowhere again. Where have you been? Been, simply about my business. That is mine and my father's. Business? Now, what business could you be having at this hour? I hardly think you'd understand. Why wouldn't? Here, I've seen you before. I know it. Your eyes. I don't understand. Goodbye, officer. And Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas? Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Don't forget. Tune, darling. Darling, wake up. You certainly have the Christmas spirit from your gritting mother in your sleep. A merry Christmas, dear. Come now. Wake up. And we'll go into the tree. Mother, tell me. Is it daylight? Or is the room still dark? It's daylight, dear. Come on. Put on your robe and slippers. It's daylight. It's... Yes. Yes, Mother. I'm ready. Yes. Now we'll see what Father Christmas has put in your stockings. Robin didn't wake up, either. Your father's getting him. Oh, here you are, Mother and Jones. Merry Christmas, Mother. Merry Christmas, Jones. I see the cricket bat and skates I wanted. And, Jones, there are the doll and carriage you wanted, too. And the stockings. And how full they are. Here's mine. Don't you want yours, too, Jones? Jones. Mother, the tree. Is it as pretty as it was last night? Why, of course, dear. Just as pretty as ever, Jones. I say, what on earth? What is it? Well, it does appear different somehow. I'd swear that it looks as if those lights had been changed. That blue light. Oh, but then I may have... Martha. Yes, dear. Did you put the star on the top of the tree last night? Well, of course not. Why, it's up there. But how... Robin, did you? No, Father. How in the world? Father, tell me, is the star still bright gold color? Why? Why, yes. You know, it's quite the most beautiful star I've ever seen. That was a beautiful Christmas story, Margaret O'Brien. I think so, too, Mr. Baker. Jones was such a brave girl. Yes, she was. And do you remember what Christ said to Jones? Something she should never forget. Oh, yes, he said, it is not enough that I should come to you. But you must find the way to me. Along the road of faith and prayer. Yes. Well, I... I can't think of a better thought on which to close, Margaret. Nor have a nicer person than you to wish all our listeners a merry Christmas. Will you? A very merry Christmas to all of you from all the stars of the family theater. Merry Christmas, Mr. Baker. Thank you and merry Christmas, Margaret O'Brien. Our thanks to Margaret O'Brien and Kenny Baker for their appearance and to True Boardman for writing our play. Next week, our family theater stars will be John Charles Thomas and John Nesbitt and Mr. Nesbitt's narrative, Our Lady's Juggler. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.