Mandino Og - The Gift of Acabar

THE GIFT OF ACABAR
The touching story of a boy who does indeed capture a starand learns from that star that heavenly secrets are to be found right here on earth.

What a beautiful story Og and Buddy have written. It reminds us again of the things that are hidden deep in our hearts that we occasionally see but keep forgetting.

Jesse Lair,
author of I Aint Much Baby
But Im All Ive Got

A life must change from within, and this book is the prescription for such change.

N. Eldon Tanner
President, The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-Day Saints

Bantam Books by Og Mandino

A BETTER WAY TO LIVE
THE CHOICE
THE CHRIST COMMISSION
THE GIFT OF ACABAR (with Buddy Kaye)
THE GREATEST MIRACLE IN THE WORLD
THE GREATEST SALESMAN IN THE WORLD
THE GREATEST SALESMAN IN THE WORLD
PART II: The End of the Story
THE GREATEST SECRET IN THE WORLD
THE GREATEST SUCCESS IN THE WORLD
MISSION: SUCCESS!
OG MANDINOS UNIVERSITY OF SUCCESS
THE RETURN OF THE RAGPICKER

This edition contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition.
NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED .

A GIFT OF ACABAR
A Bantam Nonfiction Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY
Lippincott edition published September 1978
A selection of the Christian Herald Family Bookshelf, December 1978.
A condensation appeared in Success Unlimited Magazine, June 1979.
Bantam edition / August 1979

All rights reserved.
Copyright 1978 by Og Mandino and Buddy Kaye.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Bantam Books.

eISBN: 978-0-307-78087-4

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words Bantam Books and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

v3.1

FOR THOSE WHO
STILL BELIEVE IN MIRACLES

Everyones life is a fairy tale,
written by Gods fingers.

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

T hey were wandering and hunting across more than one hundred thousand square miles of primeval wilderness, now called Lapland, long before Romulus and Remus founded Rome and Homer wrote the Iliad, long before the Hebrews entered Canaan and Stonehenge was erected in Britain, long before the Tassili rock paintings were scratched on the caves of Algeria and the great pyramid for Khufu was completed, long before Nebuchadnezzar built his hanging gardens and Gautama Buddha preached in India. The world knows them as Lapps but they call themselves Same, and there are no more than thirty-five thousand scattered in isolated villages and cabins throughout the northernmost regions of Norway, Sweden, Finland, and even Russia.

They have suffered the most vicious of climates with courage and patience. They have tended to their families with love and compassion and trained their young, by example, in the art of living and self-reliance and they have endured. They have never had a country or even a state they could call their own, nor have they ever accepted aid from any government.

They are small in stature yet big of heart. No stranger is ever turned away from their doors nor are their homes ever locked. Crime and divorce are virtually unknown except for what they read in their few newspapers or hear on their radios.

The Lapp people have been a credit to the race of man for more than eight thousand years, yet less is known about them than about any other people on the face of this planet. Certainly, in the mysterious cycles of eternity, their moment in the spotlight of history was long overdue.

And so it came to pass that once upon a time but not very long ago, mind you in a small and desolate Lapland village far north of the Arctic Circlea miracle occurred.

If only the world had known.

T he plaintive cry of a solitary wolf echoed in the outside blackness, the dreaded sound penetrating the walls of every home and cabin in Kalvala as it swept through the desolate village on the first angry winds of winter.

Tulo Mattis dropped his pencil and pushed aside the green leather-covered ledger. He held his breath and listened. The wolf howled again until a single rifle shot crackled across the frozen tundra.

With a sigh of relief Tulo rose from the table and limped painfully toward his sisters small bedroom. He paused to stroke Nikkus thick gray fur as he passed the slumbering spitz.

Dog, you are getting old and lazy. I can remember when a howling wolf would have had you tearing holes in the door.

As he approached Jaanas bed her frightened voice came from beneath many blankets. Tulo, did you hear that wolf?

Yes. Uncle Varno must have shot him. No harm will ever come to our reindeer while he stands guard. And no harm will come to you either, so go to sleep, little girl.

The green ledger was still open when he returned to the kitchen table. Tulo pulled it toward him until it was directly under the unshaded light bulb and read the words he had written to mark his fourteenth birthday:

December 12

The dark time is now upon us.

It is two months to sunrise.

But even if the summers midnight sun were shining and the heather and goldenrod still covered our meadow this would be the saddest birthday of my life. What my sister and I have lost in the past twelve months can never be recovered.

I have read that one can always find a seed of happiness in every adversity if one looks for it. I have searched in vain, and all I have for my effort is a pain in my heart that will not go away.

I must not lose hope. I must remain strong for Jaanas sake.

Tulo slowly closed the ledger. He brushed the moisture from his large brown eyes, turned toward the small oval gold-framed photograph which was always on the table, and cupped his mothers image in both hands. In the sounds of the wind he was certain he could hear her warm voice once again.

My son, God must have special plans for you. How else can one explain your gift with words? Someday your name will be honored by all our people, and the words you write will be bound in leather so that their truth and beauty can endure and light the entire world like a star of hope.

Sobs shook Tulos small body. He raised the photograph to his lips and kissed the glass, again and again. Mama Mama I miss you I miss you I miss you.

Nikkus impatient scratching against the door interrupted Tulos self-pity. Out of habit he pulled on his woolen cloak and the four-pointed cap that Jaana had knit and followed the dog on his nightly trek to the meadow.