Here is the beautiful story about the Christmas flower of the Holy Night, some say the little girl was named Pepita, some say her name was Maria, but Family Circle magazine has a beautiful version where she was named Lucinda. The little girls name is not important but the story and the name of the flower will live forever in the hearts of everyone who hears it.

A long time ago, in a small town in a place called Mexico, there lived a little girl named Lucinda.

Her family was very poor, but Lucinda lived a happy life with her mother, father and baby brother. They had food to eat, not terribly much, but enough so they weren't hungry. They had a house to live in; it was small, but the roof kept the rain out and the floor was dry.

And there were always fiestas all throughout the year the town honored the different saints by gathering in the square in front of the church, to sing and dance and eat. There was the Fiesta of Santa Maria, in honor of the mother of Jesus, and the Fiesta of San Antonio, when all the children would bring their animals for the Padre to bless. But the one Lucinda loved the most was Navidad, Christmas.

For weeks in advance, all the townspeople would prepare for Navidad. The women baked all kinds of delicious breads and cookies. The men cleaned up and painted all the houses. The Padre carefully set up the Nativity Scene with wooden camels, sheep, shepherds, kings and angels. And the children practiced songs to sing at Midnight Mass.

Every Christmas Eve, candles were lit around the square and up the pathway to the church. The figures of Mary and Joseph were placed in the manger and everyone gathered for the procession up to the church.

The Padre would lead, carrying the figure of the Holy Child. All the townspeople would follow; each with a gift to place in front of the manger for the Child.

Lucinda looked forward to Christmas every year; except this one. Her mother had recently become very ill. Her father had gone to the big city because there was no work for him in the little town. Lucinda's family was poorer than ever. There would be no gift to carry in the procession this year. No fiesta for Lucinda.

As the sun went down on Christmas Eve, Lucinda crept into the church. The Padre had already put Mary and Joseph in their places. Lucinda knelt down and gazed intently at the painted face of the Holy Mother.

"Oh, Lady," said Lucinda softly, "I can't be in the procession. I have no gift for your baby because we have no money. But I wanted to come and see you anyway. Perhaps you can tell your Holy Child why I will not be here tonight. Thank you." And Lucinda left the church.

Once outside, Lucinda remained in the shadows waiting for the procession to begin. The stars came out, the candles were lit and Lucinda watched the townspeople gather, each holding a beautiful gift. She watched as the Padre, carrying the figure of the Holy Child, took his place at the head of the line. The singing began and everyone marched up to the church.

Lucinda wept and wept. She so wanted to be a part of it all.

Suddenly she heard a voice behind her ask, "Why are you crying, little one?" Lucinda turned and saw an old lady.

"I can't be in the procession because I have no beautiful gift for the Holy Child," sobbed Lucinda.

"Ah," said the old lady, "don't you know that a gift is beautiful because it is given? Whatever you give, the Holy Child will love."

Lucinda's heart filled with joy. She looked around. A patch of tall green weeds grew in a tangle nearby. She rushed to them and picked a hugh armload. "Will these do?" Lucinda asked, but the old lady was gone.

Lucinda walked into the church. It was blazing with candlelight and all the children were singing as she walked quietly down the aisle with the bundle of green weeds in her arms.

"What is that little girl doing?" whispered a lady.

"She's carrying WEEDS!" whispered another.

Lucinda reached the creche. She placed the green weeds around the stable. Then she lowered her head, pressed her hands together and prayed.

A hush fell over the church. Then the voices began in a whisper and grew to a buzz. "Look, look," said the voices. "Look at the weeds!"

Lucinda opened her eyes and looked up.

Each brance of the weeds she had brought was tipped with a flaming red star. The manger glowed and shimmered as if lit by a hundred candles. A miracle had happened!

And outside the church, all through the town, all the clumps of tall weeds were shining with red stars, too. The old lady had been right; Lucinda's gift had indeed become beautiful!

And every Christmas, even to this day, the red stars shine on top of the green branches in Mexico. And the people call the plant Flor de la Noche Buena; flower of the Holy Night, the poinsettia.

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