Merry Christmas to all!

God wants to give you wonderful Christmas gifts through His Son, Jesus. Do you want them? Just pray this simple prayer:

"Dear God, thank You for thinking of me at Christmas. Please give me the gifts You have promised--gifts of love, joy, peace, happiness, and the best gift of all, eternal life with You and Your Son, Jesus. I open my heart and ask You to fill it with good things. Amen."

When Christmas Comes

Have you any old grudges you would like to pay,
Any wrongs laid up from a bygone day?
Gather them now and lay them away
When Christmas comes.
Hard thoughts are heavy to carry, my friend,
And life is short from beginning to end;
Be kind to yourself, leave nothing to mend
When Christmas comes.

--William Lytle in "When Christmas Comes"

YouTube: The Light of Your Love (Song Of Mary Magdalene)

Italian title: "La Luce Del Tuo Amore" (Canzone di Maria Maddalena)

An English song with Italian subtitles.

Not exactly a Christmas video, but it's well worth watching. After all, Jesus is the Reason for the Season!

YouTube: Happy Birthday Jesus!

A beautiful compilation from Anne Geddes pictures and the song from the Brooklyn Tabernacle Christmas' album.

If Christmas isn't found in your heart...

Remember, if Christmas isn't found in your heart, you won't find it under a tree.

--Charlotte Carpenter

Christmas is a necessity...

Christmas is a necessity. There has to be at least one day of the year to remind us that we're here for something else besides ourselves.

--Eric Sevareid

It is the personal thoughtfulness...

It is the personal thoughtfulness, the warm human awareness, the reaching out of the self to one's fellow man that makes giving worthy of the Christmas spirit.

--Isabel Currier.

I truly believe...

I truly believe that if we keep telling the Christmas story, singing the Christmas songs, and living the Christmas spirit, we can bring joy and happiness and peace to this world.

--Norman Vincent Peale

Christmas is a day of meaning...

Christmas is a day of meaning and traditions, a special day spent in the warm circle of family and friends.

--Margaret Thatcher

Unless we make Christmas...

Unless we make Christmas an occasion to share our blessings, all the snow in Alaska won't make it 'white'.

--Bing Crosby

Christmas isn't just a day...

Christmas isn't just a day, it's a frame of mind.

--Valentine Davies (in Miracle on 34th Street)

Christmas will always be...

Christmas will always be in the hearts of God's children everywhere as they extend a helping hand to a friend in need.

--Jane Hillsmen

Christmas is doing...

Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone.

--Charles Schulz

Christmas is a time to expand...

Christmas is a time to expand our giving encompassing the friendless and needy ... near and far. Christmas is sharing.

--Patricia Clafford

O little Lord of Christmas

By Henry Hallam Tweedy

On Christmas eve they filled the house, some fifty guests all told,
(O little Lord of Christmas, were You left out in the cold?)
And ate and sang, played cards and danced till early morning light.
(O little Lord of Christmas, did they think of You that night?)

Next morning came the presents on a glittering Christmas tree.
(O little Lord of Christmas, was there any gift for Thee?)
The dinner was a Roman feast, and how those guests did eat!
(O little Lord of Christmas, were You hungry in the street?)

Then came some teas, a movie, and at night the last revue.
(O little Lord of Christmas, what had these to do with You?)
By midnight all were tired and cross and tumbled into bed.
(O little Lord of Christmas, did they think that You were dead?)

They all woke up with headaches and no joy in work or play.
(O little Lord of Christmas, did they mark Your birth that day?)
The love, the joy were good, no doubt; the rest a pagan spree.
(O little Lord of Christmas, let us keep the day with Thee!)

Gifts of time and love...

Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.

--Peg Bracken

The Christmas Star

By Nancy Byrd Turner

High in the heavens a single star,
Of pure, imperishable light;
Out on the desert strange and far
Dim riders riding through the night:
Above a hilltop sudden song
Like silver trumpets down the sky--
And all to welcome One so young
He scarce could lift a cry!

Stars rise and set, that star shines on:
Songs fail, but still that music beats
Through all the ages come and gone,
In lane and field and city streets.
And we who catch the Christmas gleam,
Watching with children on the hill,
We know, we know it is no dream--
He stands among us still!

In the pure soul...

In the pure soul, whether it sing or pray,
The Christ is born anew from day to day.
The life that knoweth Him shall bide apart
And keep eternal Christmas in the heart.

--Elizabeth Stuart Phelps

The joy of brightening other lives...

The joy of brightening other lives, bearing each others' burdens, easing other's loads and supplanting empty hearts and lives with generous gifts becomes for us the magic of Christmas.

--W. C. Jones

Christmas gift suggestions...

Christmas gift suggestions:
To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.

--Oren Arnold

Christmas Day is a day of joy and charity...

Christmas Day is a day of joy and charity. May God make you very rich in both.

--Phillips Brooks

Living Christmas Each Day

Author unknown

Christmas is more than a day at the end of the year,
More than a season of joy and good cheer,
Christmas is really God's pattern for living
To be followed all year by unselfish giving...

For the holiday season awakens good cheer
And draws us closer to those we hold dear,
And we open our hearts and find it is good
To live among men as we always should...

But as soon as the tinsel is stripped from the tree
The spirit of Christmas fades silently
Into the background of daily routine
And is lost in the whirl of life's busy scene,

And all unawares, we miss and forego
The greatest blessing that mankind can know...
For if we lived Christmas each day, as we should,
And made it our aim to always do good,

We'd find the lost key to meaningful living
That comes not from getting, but from unselfish giving...
And we'd know the great joy of peace upon earth
Which was the real purpose of our Saviour's birth,

For in the glad tidings of the first Christmas night,
God showed us the Way and the Truth and the Light!

A Brother Like That

By Dan Clark

A friend of mine named Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it. "Is this your car, Mister?" he asked.

Paul nodded. "My brother gave it to me for Christmas."

The boy was astounded. "You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn't cost you nothing? Boy, I wish…" He hesitated.

Of course Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Paul all the way down to his heels.

"I wish," the boy went on, "that I could be a brother like that."

Paul looked at the boy in astonishment, then impulsively he added, "Would you like to take a ride in my automobile?"

"Oh yes, I'd love that!"

After a short ride, the boy turned and with his eyes aglow, said, "Mister, would you mind driving in front of my house?"

Paul smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Paul was wrong again. "Will you stop where those two steps are?" the boy asked.

He ran up the steps. Then in a little while Paul heard him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his crippled younger brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car.

"There she is, Buddy, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas and it didn't cost him a cent. And some day I'm gonna give you one just like it. … And then you can ride around and see for yourself all the things that I've been trying to tell you about."

Paul got out and lifted the lad to the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride. That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what Jesus meant when He said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

Heap on the wood...

Heap on the wood!-the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.

--Sir Walter Scott

YouTube: Jesus--Silent Night

A musical montage of Jesus' birth

YouTube: The Biblical Christmas Story

Animated version of the biblical Christmas story.

Christmas is not as much about...

Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.

--Janice Maeditere

Sharing kindness at Christmas...

Sharing kindness at Christmas is good practice for the way we should be all the rest of the year.

--Maria Fontaine

Old Gentleman Gray

Author unknown

Said Old Gentleman Gray, "On Christmas Day,
If you want to be happy, give something away."

So he sent a fat turkey to shoemaker Price,
And the Shoemaker said, "What a big bird! How nice!
And since such a good dinner is now before me,
I'll send the roast I bought to poor Widow Lee."

"This is a fine roast! " said the pleased Widow Lee.
"And the kindness that sent it--how precious to me.
I would like to make someone as happy as I.
I'll send Washwoman Biddy my big pumpkin pie."

"Oh my," Biddy said. "`Tis the queen of all pies!
Just to look at its yellow face gladdens my eyes.
Now it's my turn, I think, and a nice chocolate cake
For the motherless Finnegan children I'll bake."

Said the Finnegan children, Rose, Denny and Hugh,
"Thank you so much, ma'am. How kind of you!
It smells sweet of spice, and we'll carry a slice
To poor lame Jake who has nothing that's nice."

"I thank you and thank you," said little lame Jake,
"For sharing with me your magnificent cake!
And in my basket, I'll save all of the crumbs
And give them to each little sparrow that comes."

And the sparrows they twittered as if they would say,
"We heard the tale from Old Gentleman Gray!
He started it all, saying, `On Christmas Day,
If you want to be happy, give something away.'"

Christmas is not just a day...

Christmas is not just a day, an event to be observed and speedily forgotten. It is a spirit which should permeate every part of our lives.

--William Parks

The Spirit of Christmas

By Henry Van Dyke

I am thinking of you today because it is Christmas, and I
wish you happiness.
And tomorrow, because it will be the day after Christmas,
I shall still wish you happiness.
I may not be able to tell you about it every day, because I
may be far away or we may be very busy.
But that makes no difference--my thoughts and my wishes
will be with you just the same.
Whatever joy or success comes to you will make me glad
clear through the year.
I wish you the spirit of Christmas.

Christmas Is...

By Ian Bach

A mother's love for her baby boy
A sacrifice to bring others joy
A father's care for one not his own
A message sent from a royal throne
A seeming wrong that was turned to right
An angel's song in the dark of night
A prophet's vision at last fulfilled
A miracle because God had willed
A gift of love from a caring heart
A bringing together what was apart
A reaching out to comprehend
How another felt by a sincere friend
A seeking soul that journeyed far
To find a dream, to follow a star
A bridegroom claiming a bride as his
All these things are what Christmas is.

My Christmas Miracle

By Taylor Caldwell

For many of us, one Christmas will stand out from all the others, the one when the meaning of the day shone clearest.

Although I did not guess it, my own "truest" Christmas began six months earlier on a rainy Spring day many years ago in the bleakest year of my life. I was recently divorced, I was in my 20s, had no job, and was on my way downtown to make the rounds of the employment offices. I had no umbrella, for my old one had fallen apart, and I could not afford another one. I sat down in the streetcar, and there against the seat was a beautiful silk umbrella with a silver handle inlaid with gold and flecks of bright enamel. I had never seen anything so lovely.

I examined the handle and saw a name engraved among the golden scrolls. The usual procedure would have been to turn in the umbrella to the conductor, but on impulse I decided to take it with me and find the owner myself. I got off the streetcar in a downpour and thankfully opened the umbrella to protect myself. Then I searched a telephone book for the name on the umbrella and found it. I called, and a lady answered.

Yes, she said in surprise, that was her umbrella, which her parents, now dead, had given her for a birthday present. But, she added, it had been stolen from her locker at school (she was a teacher) more than a year before. She was so excited that I forgot I was looking for a job and went directly to her small house. She took the umbrella, and her eyes filled with tears.

The teacher wanted to give me a reward, but--though $20 was all I had in the World--her happiness at retrieving this special possession was such that to have accepted money would have spoiled it. We talked for a while, and I must have given her my address. I don't remember.

The next six months were difficult. I was able to obtain only temporary employment here and there, for a small salary. But I put aside 25 or 50 cents when I could afford it for my little girl's Christmas presents. (It took me six months to save $8.) My last job ended the day before Christmas, my $30 rent was soon due, and I had $15 to my name--which Peggy and I would need for food. She was home from her convent boarding school and was excitedly looking forward to her gifts the next day, which I had already purchased. I had bought her a small tree, and we were going to decorate it that night.

The stormy air was full of the sound of Christmas merriment as I walked home to my small apartment. Bells rang, children shouted in the dusk of the evening, windows were lighted, and people were running and laughing. But as I struggled through the snowdrifts, I just about reached the lowest point of my life. Unless a miracle happened we would be homeless in January, foodless, jobless. I had prayed steadily for weeks, and there had been no answer but this coldness and darkness, this harsh air, this seeming abandonment. Had God and Man completely forgotten me? I felt old as death, and as lonely. What was to become of us?

I looked in my mailbox. There were only bills in it, and two white envelopes which I was sure contained more bills. Entering my home, I stood in the hallway and cried, shivering in my thin coat. But I made myself smile so I could greet my little daughter. She threw herself in my arms, screaming joyously and suggesting that we decorate the tree immediately.

Peggy was not yet six years old. She had proudly set our kitchen table for our evening meal, put pans out and the three cans of food which would be our dinner. For some reason, when I looked at those pans and cans, I felt brokenhearted. We would have only hamburgers for our Christmas dinner tomorrow, and gelatin. I stood in the cold little kitchen, and misery overwhelmed me. For the first time in my life, I doubted the existence of God and His mercy, and the coldness in my heart was colder than ice.

The doorbell rang. It was a delivery man, and his arms were full of big parcels, and he was laughing at my child's frenzied joy as she stood beside me at the door. "This is a mistake," I said, but he read my name on the parcels, and they were for me. When he had gone I could only stare at the boxes. Peggy and I sat on the floor and opened them. A huge doll, three times the size of the one I had bought for her. Gloves. Candy. A beautiful leather purse. Incredible! I looked for the name of the sender. It was the teacher, the address simply "California," where she had moved.

Our dinner that night was the most delicious I had ever eaten. I could only pray, "Thank You, Father." I forgot I had no money for the rent and only $15 in my purse and no job. My child and I ate and laughed together in happiness. Then we decorated the little tree and marvelled at it. I put Peggy to bed and set up her gifts around the tree, and a sweet peace flooded me like a benediction [3]. I had hope again. I could even examine the bills without cringing. Then I opened the two white envelopes. One contained a cheque for $30 from a company I had worked for briefly in the Summer. It was, said a note, my "Christmas bonus." My rent!

The other envelope was an offer of a permanent position with the government--to begin two days after Christmas. I sat with the letter in my hand and the cheque on the table before me, and I think that was the most joyful moment of my life up to that time.

The church bells began to ring. I hurriedly looked at my child, who was sleeping blissfully, and went to the door and gazed out onto the street. People smiled at me and I smiled back. The storm had stopped, the sky was pure and glittering with stars.

"The Lord is born," sang the bells to the crystal night and the laughing darkness. Someone began to sing, "Come, all ye faithful!" I joined in, and standing on the doorstep, sang with the strangers all about me.

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all.

And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Even when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the World seemingly most indifferent, He never forgets us.

The Christmas spirit--love...

The Christmas spirit--love--changes hearts and lives.

--Pat Boone

I have always thought of Christmas time...

I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.

--Charles Dickens

Christmas is the one day of the year...

Christmas is the one day of the year that carries real hope and promise for all mankind. It carries the torch of brotherhood. It is the one day in the year when most of us grow big of heart and broad of mind.

--Edgar Guest

The happiness and love...

The happiness and love on this one day
Bring thoughts which warm and cheer.
May we keep Christmas in our hearts
Through every day of all the year.

--Gertrude B. Holman

From Home to home...

From Home to home, and heart to heart, from one place to another. The warmth and joy of Christmas, brings us closer to each other.

--Emily Matthews

It is not even the beginning...

It is not even the beginning of Christmas unless it is Christmas in the heart.

--Richard Roberts

The simple shepherds heard...

The simple shepherds heard the voice of an angel and found their Lamb; the wise men saw the light of a star and found their Wisdom.

--Fulton J. Sheen

Angels, Once in a While

By Barb Irwin

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone.

The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave 15 dollars a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand-new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old '51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store, and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called "The Big Wheel." An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job.

And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money--fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added another strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand-new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry, too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys' pants, and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the &&&Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up. When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn't wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.)

It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car--or was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car, I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was full--full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.

I quickly opened the driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

Only in souls...

Only in souls the Christ is brought to birth,
And there He lives and dies.

--Alfred Noyes

We should try to hold on...

We should try to hold on to the Christmas spirit, not just one day a year, but all 365.

--Mary Martin

Mankind is a great, an immense family...

Mankind is a great, an immense family... This is proved by what we feel in our hearts at Christmas.

--Pope John XXIII

CHRISTMAS is...

CHRISTMAS is C-hrist's H-istoric, R-emarkable I-ncarnation S-tory, T-elling M-essiah's A-waited S-alvation.

--Jose B. Cabajar

Make this Christmas count...

Make this Christmas count in the hearts and lives of others--it's not just a special time, but a special opportunity!

--Maria Fontaine

Dear Admiral McDonald

Author unknown

Dear Admiral McDonald:

This letter is a year late. Nevertheless, it is important that you receive it. Eighteen people have asked me to be sure to write to you.

Last year at Christmas time, my wife, three boys and I were in France, on our way from Paris to Nice. For five wretched days everything had gone wrong. Our hotels were tourist traps, our rented car broke down, we were irritable and restless.

On Christmas Eve, when we checked into a hotel in Nice, there was no Christmas spirit in our hearts. It was cold and raining when we went out to eat. We found a drab little cafe, shoddily decorated for the holiday.

Only five tables in the restaurant were occupied. There were two German couples, two French families and an American sailor by himself. In the corner a piano player listlessly played. I was too stubborn, too tired, and too miserable to leave.

I looked around and noticed that the other customers were eating in stony silence. The only person who seemed happy was the American sailor. He was writing a letter, smiling to himself.

My wife ordered our meal in French. The waiter brought us the wrong thing. I scolded my wife, she began to cry, and the boys defended her. Then on my left, at the table of one French family, the father slapped one of his children for some minor fault; the boy cried. On our right, the German wife berated her husband.

All of us were suddenly interrupted by an unpleasant blast of cold air. Through the door came an old French flower woman. She wore a dripping, tattered overcoat, and shuffled in on wet, rundown shoes. Carrying her basket of roses she went from table to table. “Flowers?”

No one bought any, and wearily she sat at a table between the sailor and us.

To the waiter she said: “Bowl of soup. I haven't sold a flower the whole afternoon.” To the piano player she said hoarsely: “Can you imagine, Joseph, ordering only a bowl of soup on Christmas Eve?”

Joseph pointed to his empty tipping plate. The young sailor finished his meal, and got up to leave. Putting on his coat, he walked over to the flower woman's table.

“Happy Christmas,” he said smiling, and picking out two roses, he said, “How much are these?”

“Two francs, Monsieur.”

Pressing one of the flowers into the letter he had written, he handed the woman a 20-franc note.

“I'll have to get some change, Monsieur,” she said.

“No ma'am,” said the sailor, kissing the ancient cheek. “This is my Christmas present to you.”

Straightening up, he came to our table, holding the other rose in front of him. “Sir,” he said to me, “may I present this to your beautiful daughter?”

In one quick motion he gave the rose to my wife, wished us a Merry Christmas and departed.

Everyone had stopped eating. Everyone had been watching the sailor. Everyone was sitting in thoughtful silence.

A few seconds later, Christmas exploded through the restaurant like a bomb. The old flower woman jumped up waving her 20-franc note. Hobbling out into the middle of the room she did a jig, shouting to the piano player: “Joseph, my Christmas present! You shall have a feast too!”

With sudden enthusiasm the piano player began to play “Good King Wenceslas,” beating the keys with magic hands, nodding his head to the rhythm. My wife waved her rose in time to the music. She was radiant, looking twenty years younger. The tears had left her eyes. She began to sing and our three sons joined in, bellowing loudly.

The Germans jumped on the chairs and began singing. The waiter embraced the flower woman. Waving their arms, they sang in French. The French man who had slapped the boy beat a rhythm with his fork against a bottle and the lad climbed on his lap. Then the owner of the restaurant started singing “The First Noel,” and we all joined in, half of us crying as we sang.

People crowded in from the street until many were standing. The walls shook, as hands and feet kept time to the rousing Yuletide carols. A few hours before eighteen people had been spending a miserable evening in a shoddy restaurant. It ended up being our happiest Christmas Eve ever.

This, Admiral McDonald, is what I'm writing you about. As top man in the Navy you should know about the very special gift that the U.S. Navy gave to my family, to me, and to the other people in that French restaurant. Because your young sailor had Christmas spirit in his soul, he released the love and joy that had been smothered within us. He gave us Christmas.

Thank you, sir, very much.

My idea of Christmas...

My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?

--Bob Hope

Christmas is for love

Author unknown

Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly decorated packages. But mostly, Christmas is for love.

I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with wide-eyed innocence and soft rosy cheeks gave me a wondrous gift one Christmas. Mark was an 11-year-old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle-aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister's son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn't been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant homeless waif. Still, with all this scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the classroom. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman, who always spent much time with him.

As Christmas drew nearer, however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming and when, as the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large gray eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, "Did you really miss me?" I explained how he had been my best helper.

"I was making you a surprise," he whispered confidentially. "It's for Christmas." With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room. He didn't stay after school anymore after that.

Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back. "l have your present," he said timidly when I looked up. "I hope you like it." He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.

"It's beautiful, Mark. Is there something in it?" I asked, opening the top to look inside.

"Oh, you can't see what's in it," he replied, "and you can't touch it or taste it or feel it. But Mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights, and safe when you're all alone."

I gazed into the empty box. "What is it, Mark," I asked gently, "that will make me feel so good?"

"It's love," he whispered softly, "and Mother always said it's best when you give it away." And he turned quietly and left the room.

So now I keep a small box made of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them that there is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth, and song--for good and wondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.

A little smile...

A little smile, a word of cheer,
A bit of love from someone near,
A little gift from one held dear,
Best wishes for the coming year--
These make a Merry Christmas!

--John Greenleaf Whittier

The joy of brightening other lives...

The joy of brightening other lives, bearing each others' burdens, easing other's loads and supplanting empty hearts and lives with generous gifts becomes for us the magic of Christmas.

--W.C. Jones

He who has not Christmas...

He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.

--Roy L. Smith

Peace on earth will come to stay...

Peace on earth will come to stay,
When we live Christmas every day.

--Helen Steiner Rice

A Perfect Mistake

Author unknown

Mother's father worked as a carpenter. On this particular day, he was building some crates for the clothes his church was sending to some orphanage in China for Christmas. On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find his glasses, but they were gone. When he mentally replayed his earlier actions, he realized what must have happened: The glasses had slipped out of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one of the crates, which he had nailed shut. His brand-new glasses were heading for China!

The Great Depression of the 1930s was at its height in the U.S. and Grandpa had six children. He had spent $20 for those glasses that very morning. He was upset by the thought of having to buy another pair. “It's not fair,” he told God as he drove home in frustration. “I've been very faithful in giving of my time and money to Your work, and now this.”

Several months later, the director of the orphanage was on furlough in the United States. He wanted to visit all the churches that supported him in China, so he came to speak one Sunday at my grandfather's small church in Chicago. The missionary began by thanking the people for their faithfulness in supporting the orphanage.

“But most of all,” he said, “I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year. You see, the Communists had just swept through the orphanage, destroying everything, including my glasses. I was desperate. Even if I had the money, there was simply no way of replacing those glasses. Along with not being able to see well, I experienced headaches every day, so my coworkers and I were much in prayer about this. Then your Christmas crates arrived. When my staff removed the covers, they found a pair of glasses lying on top.”

The missionary paused long enough to let his words sink in. Then, still gripped with the wonder of it all, he continued: “Folks, when I tried on the glasses, it was as though they had been custom-made just for me! I want to thank you for being a part of that.”

The people listened, happy for the miraculous glasses. However, they thought the missionary surely must have confused their church with another. There were no glasses on their list of items to be sent overseas.

But sitting quietly in the back, with tears streaming down his face, an ordinary carpenter realized the Master Carpenter had used him in an extraordinary way.

It is good to be children...

It is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child Himself.

--Charles Dickens

Our hearts grow tender...

Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.

--Laura Ingalls Wilder

The giving of gifts...

The giving of gifts is not something man invented. God started the giving spree when he gave a gift beyond words, the unspeakable gift of His Son.

--Robert Flatt

Christmas is love in action...

Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it's Christmas.

--Dale Evans

A heart full of love...

A heart full of love is a heart full of Christmas daily.

--Maria Fontaine

Christmas means a spirit of love...

Best of all, Christmas means a spirit of love, a time when the love of God and the love of our fellow men should prevail over all hatred and bitterness, a time when our thoughts and deeds and the spirit of our lives manifest the presence of God.

--George F. McDougall

Are you willing to believe...

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world--stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death--and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas.

--Henry Van Dyke

Love came down at Christmas

By Christina Rosetti

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine;
Love was born at Christmas;
Star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine;
Worship we our Jesus,
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

Somehow, not only for Christmas

By John Greenleaf Whittier

Somehow, not only for Christmas,
But all the long year through,
The joy that you give to others,
Is the joy that comes back to you.
And the more you spend in blessing,
The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart's possessing,
Returns to you glad.

Christmas--that magic blanket...

Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.

--Augusta E. Rundel

God grant you the light...

God grant you the light in Christmas, which is faith;
the warmth of Christmas, which is love;
the radiance of Christmas, which is purity;
the righteousness of Christmas, which is justice;
the belief in Christmas, which is truth;
the all of Christmas, which is Christ.

--Wilda English

The earth has grown old...

The earth has grown old with its burden of care,
But at Christmas it always is young.

--Phillips Brooks

Christmas is a state of mind...

Christmas is a state of mind. It's happiness, gratitude, love, rejoicing, giving, playing, thanking, sacrificing, and remembering. Do those things and you'll never have a hard time "feeling like Christmas."

--Maria Fontaine

Christmas is the season...

Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.

--Washington Irving

I wish we could put up...

I wish we could put up some of the Christmas spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month.

--Harlan Miller

Christmas is the gentlest...

Christmas is the gentlest, loveliest festival of the revolving year--and yet, for all that, when it speaks, its voice has strong authority.

--W.J. Cameron

Blessed is the season...

Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!

--Hamilton Wright Mabie

A Christmas Prayer

By Robert Louis Stevenson

Loving Father,
Help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.

Close the door of hate
and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift
and good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing
which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.

May the Christmas morning
make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds
with grateful thoughts,
forgiving and forgiven,
for Jesus' sake.
Amen.

At Christmas

By Edgar Guest

A man is at his finest
towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be
when the Christmas season is here;
Then he's thinking more of others
than he's thought the months before,
And the laughter of his children
is a joy worth toiling for.
He is less a selfish creature than
at any other time;
When the Christmas spirit rules him
he comes close to the sublime.

When it's Christmas man is bigger
and is better in his part;
He is keener for the service
that is prompted by the heart.
All the petty thoughts and narrow
seem to vanish for awhile
And the true reward he's seeking
is the glory of a smile.
Then for others he is toiling and
somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas he is almost
what God wanted him to be.

If I had to paint a picture of a man
I think I'd wait
Till he'd fought his selfish battles
and had put aside his hate.
I'd not catch him at his labors
when his thoughts are all of pelf,
On the long days and the dreary
when he's striving for himself.
I'd not take him when he's sneering,
when he's scornful or depressed,
But I'd look for him at Christmas
when he's shining at his best.

Man is ever in a struggle
and he's oft misunderstood;
There are days the worst that's in him
is the master of the good,
But at Christmas kindness rules him
and he puts himself aside
And his petty hates are vanquished
and his heart is opened wide.
Oh, I don't know how to say it,
but somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas man is almost
what God sent him here to be.

A Christmas Orange

Author unknown

Jake lived in a run-down orphanage with nine other boys. At Christmas, the building always seemed a little warmer; and the food a little more plentiful. But more than this, Christmas meant an orange. Every year, each boy received as a Christmas gift, an orange. It was the only time such a rare treat was provided and it was coveted by each boy like no other thing they ever possessed.

Each boy would save his orange for several days, admiring it, feeling it, loving it, and contemplating the moment he would eat it. Some would even save it until New Year's Day to stretch the memory of Christmas.

This particular Christmas day, Jake had broken the orphanage rules by starting a fight. As punishment for breaking the rules, Jake's orange was taken away. Jake spent Christmas day feeling empty and alone. Night time came and Jake could not sleep. Silently, he sobbed because of the loss of his precious gift.

In the night, without warning, a soft hand placed on Jake's shoulder startled him. An object was quickly placed in his hand. The child then disappeared into the dark to leave Jake alone to discover an orange. Not an ordinary orange, but a special orange, made from the segments of nine other oranges. Nine highly prized oranges that had to be eaten that Christmas night, instead of saved, admired, and cherished until a later date. This Christmas would be cherished forever.

Christmas Eve was...

Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more than your body. It warmed your heart... filled it, too, with a melody that would last forever.

--Bess Streeter Aldrich

Keep your Christmas-heart...

Keep your Christmas-heart open all the year round.

--Jessica Archmint

Remember this December...

Remember
This December,
That love weighs more than gold!

--Josephine Dodge Daskam Bacon

Keeping Christmas is...

Keeping Christmas is good, but sharing it is better.

--Arnold Glasow

A Christmas candle...

A Christmas candle is a lovely thing;
It makes no noise at all,
But softly gives itself away;
While quite unselfish, it grows small.

--Eva Logue

Christmas is not a time...

Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.

--Calvin Coolidge

It is Christmas every time...

It is Christmas every time you let God love others through you...yes, it is Christmas every time you smile at your brother and offer him your hand.

--Mother Teresa

The only blind person...

The only blind person at Christmastime is he who has not Christmas in his heart.

--Helen Keller

In the bleak mid-winter (What can I give Him?)

By Christina Rossetti

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Throng’d the air,
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

When we were children...

When we were children we were grateful to those who filled our stockings at Christmas time. Why are we not grateful to God for filling our stockings with legs?

--G.K. Chesterton

I will honor Christmas...

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

--Charles Dickens

Somehow, not only for Christmas

By John Greenleaf Whittier

Somehow, not only for Christmas,
But all the long year through,
The joy that you give to others,
Is the joy that comes back to you.
And the more you spend in blessing,
The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart's possessing,
Returns to you glad.

Oh! lovely voices of the sky

By Felicia Hemans

Oh! lovely voices of the sky
Which hymned the Saviour's birth,
Are ye not singing still on high,
Ye that sang, "Peace on earth"?

It is Christmas in the heart...

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.

--W.T. Ellis

St. Francis and the First Manger Scene

By Dorothy Prescott

It is not generally known that St. Francis of Assisi was responsible for that popular feature of the Christmas season--the manger scene. It came about because of his longing to make the great truths of the Spirit real to the ordinary person.

Francis loved people, from the great Pope in his palace--and he knew two of them--to the beggars in the streets, the robbers in the mountains, and especially outcasts like the lepers.

Francis loved all creatures too. He loved the birds; most people know the story of how he preached to them as they perched near him, flying away when he dismissed them. He loved the beasts too, even the fierce wolf who terrified the people of Gubbio, Italy, and whom he is said to have tamed. He once begged the Emperor to pass a law that all birds and beasts be given extra food at Christmas, so that they too might have "joy in the Lord."

As a young man he loved material things as well, especially the beautiful clothes, costly velvets and satins from the shop of his wealthy father, Pietro Bernardone. People tended to wear their wealth on their backs in those days, and Bernardone was happy to see his son, the best-dressed young man in town, leading all the other young people in music and dancing and general carousing--it was all good for business, which he hoped Francis would join him in one day.

But Francis began to find that things as such did not satisfy him. He felt that there must be something more real in the world, and he tried all sorts of ways to find it. He even went to war, but it only brought him imprisonment, and he came home very weak after a serious illness.

But at last he learned that real satisfaction was to be found in loving God and doing what God wanted him to do. He was such an example of this new way of living and demonstrated it so well that people began to follow him. He longed to make God's truths understandable to them, and one Christmas he had the idea of showing people just what the birth of Jesus must have actually been like, in all its poverty and discomfort.

He found exactly the right place for it--a great pile of rocks on a bleak mountain near the village of Greccio. In a cleft of the mountainside there was a cave, and there he decided to rebuild the Nativity scene. He brought up an ox and an ass, and had the figure of Baby Jesus carved and laid in a manger between them. News of what he was doing spread all over the countryside.

Towards the cave on the desolate mountain a steady stream of men, women, and children came by night carrying torches and candles to light their way. At last they were all massed around the entrance to the cave, looking in.

"It seemed like midday," wrote someone who was there, "during that midnight filled with gladness for man and beast, and the crowds drawing near, so happy to be present for the renewal of the eternal mystery." Francis himself sang the Gospel story in a voice which was "strong, sweet and clear," says the observer. "Then he preached to the people, most lovingly, about the birth of the poor King in little Bethlehem."

So when we see a manger scene at Christmas time, we can remember St. Francis, the "poor little man," as he used to call himself, who was able to make great truths as real to other people as they were to him.

The Story of the Christmas Guest

Adapted by Helen Steiner Rice from an old German Legend

It happened one day at the year's white end;
Two neighbors called on an old-time friend.
They found his shop, so meager and mean,
Made bright with a thousand boughs of green.

And Conrad was sitting with face a-shine,
When he suddenly stopped as he stitched a twine,
And said, "Old friends, at dawn today,
When the cock was crowing the night away,

"The Lord appeared in a dream to me,
And said, `I'm coming your guest to be.'
So I've been busy with feet astir,
Strewing my shop with branches of fir.

"The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And over the rafters, the holly is twined.
And now I will wait for my Lord to appear,
And listen closely so I will hear
His step as He nears my humble place,
And I open the door and look in His face."

So his friends went home and left Conrad alone,
For this was the happiest day he had known.
For long since, his family had passed away,
And Conrad had spent a sad Christmas Day.

But he knew with his Lord as his Christmas Guest,
This Christmas would be the dearest and best.
He listened with only joy in his heart,
And with every sound, he would rise with a start.

And look for the Lord to be standing there,
In answer to his earnest prayer.
So he ran to the window after hearing a sound,
But all that he saw on the snow-covered ground…

Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn,
And all of his clothes were ragged and worn.
So Conrad was touched and went to the door,
And he said , "Your feet must be frozen and sore.
I have some shoes in my shop for you,
And a coat that will keep you warmer, too."

So with grateful heart, the man went away,
But as Conrad noticed the time of day,
He wondered what made his dear Lord so late,
And how much longer he'd have to wait.
When he heard a knock, he ran to the door,
But it was only a stranger once more;
A bent old crone with a shawl of black,
A bundle of branches piled on her back.

She asked for only a place to rest,
But that was reserved for Conrad's Great Guest.
But her voice seemed to plead, "Don't send me away,
Let me rest for a while on Christmas Day."

So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup,
And told her to sit at the table and sup.
But after she left, he was filled with dismay,
For he saw that the hours were passing away.

The Lord had not come, as He said He would,
And Conrad felt sure he had misunderstood.
Out of the stillness, he heard a cry,
"Please help me and tell me where am I?"
He stood disappointed, as twice before,
But shook off his sadness and went to the door.

It was only a child who had wandered away,
And was lost from her family on Christmas Day.
Again Conrad's heart was heavy and sad
But he knew he should make this little girl glad.

So he called her in and wiped her tears,
And quieted all her childish fears.
Then he led her back to her home once more.
But as he entered his darkened door,

He knew that the Lord was not coming today
For the hours of Christmas had passed away.
So he went to his room and knelt down to pray,
And he said, "Dear Lord, why did You delay?

"What kept You from coming to call on me?
For I wanted so much Your face to see."
When soft in the silence, a voice he heard:
"Lift up your head, for I kept My Word.

"Three times My shadow crossed your floor,
Three times I came to your lonely door.
For I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet.
I was the woman you gave to eat.
And I was the child on the homeless street."

Keeping Christmas

By Henry Van Dyke

There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas Day,
and that is keeping Christmas.

Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people
and to remember what other people have done for you?

To ignore what the world owes you,
and to think what you owe the world?

To admit that the only good reason for your existence is
not what you are going to get out of life,
but what you are going to give to life?

Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs
and desires of little children?

To remember the weakness and loneliness
of people who are growing old?

To stop asking how much your friends like you,
and ask yourself whether you love them enough?

To try to understand what those who live
in the same house with you really want,
without waiting for them to tell you?

To make a grave for your ugly thoughts
and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open?

Are you willing to do these things even for a day?
Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to believe that love
is the strongest thing in the world--
stronger than hate, stronger than death--
and that the blessed Life which began in
Bethlehem many years ago is the image
and brightness of eternal love?

Then you can keep Christmas.

Coping with Christmas

By Jeanette Doyle Parr

Old Ebenezer Scrooge, during his pre-dream days, would have been proud of me that Christmas season. I'd started sprinkling "bah, humbugs" around just two short weeks after Thanksgiving.

Weakened by a recent bout of flu, I was physically and mentally exhausted. For the first time in my life, the Christmas season wasn't proving to be a time of spiritual uplift.

Oh, I'd seen the looks my children had exchanged each time I snapped about Christmas-cookie messes, or tried to hurry clumsy little hands as they wrapped presents. My husband began retreating each time I lamented the high cost of gifts and how commercial Christmas had become, and it wasn't long until even the dog was avoiding my sharp tongue.

And each morning, determined that this day would be better, I'd vow to be more patient. But by late evening, I was usually complaining about, or to, someone.

Now, on December 22nd, I had another problem. Try as I might, I couldn't get the angel wings straightened on my little girl's costume.

"Put it on again, Kris. Let Mama see what she needs to do."

Happily Kris put on her costume and slipped her halo over her shining blonde hair. The left wing tilted toward the floor.

"Can I practice my song while you fix me, Mama?"

"I suppose so," I sighed. "Just don't wiggle."

Her back to me, she began singing in her thin, childish voice,

Oh, come all ye hateful,

Joy, Phil and their trumpet,

Oh come ye, oh come ye to Bethlehem...

My hands stilled. Unexpected tears spilled from my eyes, ran down my face, and splashed on the glittering wings.

Oh come all ye hateful. ... That was me all right. No wonder Christmas hadn't been the same. I hadn't gone to Bethlehem.

Not once during the entire holiday season had I paused to reflect on the miracle in the manger. My early-morning quiet times, usually devoted to Scripture reading and prayer, had been filled with extra baking, wrapping, and sewing.

Kris wiggled around to face me. "Are you crying because I sang too bootiful?"

"Yes, baby, because it was so beautiful, just like you ... and like Christmas.”

I gave her a big hug and silently vowed that the rest of Christmas would be beautiful, because I would take my hateful spirit to Bethlehem.

I smiled again. Joy, Phil and their trumpet--we'd all go to receive the eternal gift.

Alone at Christmas

By Vivian Patterson

I'd been trying not to think about Christmas, dreading the day, hoping against hope that some angel would come into my life and make everything okay. I even tried pretending that it was just a normal day, nothing special, in hopes that would make the loneliness go away. But I couldn't avoid it.--Christmas was all around me, and I was alone. No one to talk to, no one to laugh with, and no one to wish me a happy Christmas. With each minute that passed I was getting more depressed--and that's what I had dreaded the most.

To cheer myself up, I searched for happy memories to occupy my mind. One that popped up was about my Sunday school teacher. He was an easygoing, friendly man who'd spent a lot of time with us kids, and had a knack for making things fun and happy. He had said that Jesus was the joy of his life. His words ran through my mind, "Just take Jesus with you."

Would that work? I thought about it. I was alone--no one would know the difference. So I decided then and there to make Jesus my Friend for the day.

We did everything together--drank hot chocolate by the fire, walked the streets together, talked about how pretty the world was, laughed, and waved at passers-by. I could almost feel His arm around me everywhere I went and hear His voice talking to me. In whispers beyond the realm of audible sound He told me He loved me--just me--and that He would always be My Friend. Somehow I knew I would never be alone again.

As I lay down to sleep that Christmas night I felt so happy, so peaceful, so content. It seemed odd, but then again it didn't. I'd spent the day with Jesus, and I just hoped that others had as happy a Christmas Day as I had.

Christmas waves a magic wand...

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.

--Norman Vincent Peale

"Lord, Forgive!"

Author unknown

The day before Christmas had been full of incidents, some of them unpleasant. Father seemed to be burdened with worries as well as bundles. Mother's anxiety had reached the breaking point on many occasions throughout the day. Wherever the little girl went, she seemed to be in the way. Finally she was hustled off to bed. The feverish excitement of the Christmas planning had completely unnerved her. As she knelt by her bed to pray the Lord's Prayer, she got all mixed up and prayed, "Forgive us our Christmases, as we forgive those who Christmas against us."

As we watch the tense, nervous shoppers this season, we might feel like praying as the little girl did, "Forgive us our Christmases."

Where Jesus Was Born

By Charles W.H. Bancroft

There's a beautiful legend that's never been told,
It may have been known to the wise men of old,
How three little children came early at dawn,
With hearts that were sad, to where Jesus was born.

One could not see, one was too lame to play,
While the other, a mute, not a word could he say.
Yet led by His star, they came there to peep
At the little Lord Jesus, with eyes closed in sleep.

But how could the Christ Child, so lovely and fair,
Not waken and smile when He heard the glad prayer
Of hope at His coming, of faith at His birth,
Of praise at His bringing God's peace to the earth?

And then as the light softly came through the door,
The lad that was lame stood upright once more;
The boy that was mute started sweetly to sing,
While the child that was blind looked with joy on the King!

A Prayer for Christmas Morning

By Henry Van Dyke
(from A Treasury of Christmas Stories)

The day of joy returns, Father in Heaven, and crowns another year with peace and good will.

Help us rightly to remember the birth of Jesus, that we may share in the song of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and the worship of the wise men.

Close the doors of hate and open the doors of love all over the world.

Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting.

Deliver us from evil, by the blessing that Christ brings, and teach us to be merry with clean hearts.

May the Christmas morning make us happy to be Thy children, and the Christmas evening bring us to our bed with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus' sake. Amen.

Finding the joy

By Natalie Vela

Christmas can be a sad and difficult time of year if you're alone, lonely, or have been through a recent heartbreak.

Here are some tried and proven tips to help you make it through the season of joy without feeling like an outsider:

- Give to those less fortunate than you. Volunteer to serve meals at a soup kitchen or orphanage on Christmas Day. Make an effort to converse with and listen to those you're serving. Taking time to appreciate them and the struggles they've been through will not only give them a lift, but will help you realize how blessed you really are.

- Don't wait for someone to invite you for Christmas dinner.--Find someone who really needs to be invited, and invite them. Make it your goal to make Christmas special and memorable for them, and happiness will find you.

- Share with someone the real meaning of Christmas. Whether it's someone who's unfamiliar with the story, or someone who's heard it many times before, reviewing the story together of how God gave the gift, His Son, will help put things back into perspective. God was separated from His loved one at Christmas too, and He did it so that we could be together with Him forever.

- Give of your love to those you are around, and watch the joy come flooding in on you!

At Christmas

By Edgar A. Guest

A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season's here;
Then he's thinking more of others than he's thought the months before,
And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for.
He is less a selfish creature than at any other time;
When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.

When it's Christmas man is bigger and is better in his part;
He is keener for the service that is prompted by the heart.
All the petty thoughts and narrow seem to vanish for a while,
And the true reward he's seeking is the glory of a smile.
Then for others he is toiling and somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas he is almost what God wanted him to be.

If I had to paint a picture of a man I think I'd wait
Till he'd fought his selfish battles and had put aside his hate.
I'd not catch him at his labors when his thoughts are all of wealth,
On the long days and the dreary when he's striving for himself.
I'd not take him when he's sneering, when he's scornful or depressed,
But I'd look for him at Christmas when he's shining at his best.

Man is ever in a struggle and he's oft misunderstood;
There are days the worst that's in him is the master of the good.
But at Christmas kindness rules him and he puts himself aside,
And his petty hates are vanquished and his heart is opened wide.
Oh, I don't know how to say it, but somehow it seems to me
That at Christmas man is almost what God sent him here to be.

Our hearts grow tender...

Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.

--Laura Ingalls Wilder

The heart of Christmas...

The heart of Christmas is not in the presents you give, but the love that you share.

--Amanda White

What is Christmas...

What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace.

--Agnes M. Pharo