"There is no Santa Claus?"

 

Tremendous message borrowed from a friend:

 

I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit Grandma on the day my brother dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," he jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns.  I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted, "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kirby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.  That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kirby's.

I was only eight years old.  I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker.  He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

 

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

 

May you always have LOVE to share,

 

HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...

 

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

 

 

Thank you, Nancy Monroe, for sharing this wonderful story.

 

 

Santa's Prayer

My dear precious Jesus, I did not mean to take your place,

I only bring toys and things and you bring love and grace.

People give me lists of wishes and hope that they came true;

But you hear prayers of the heart and promise your will to do.

Children try to be good and not to cry when I am coming to town;

But you love them unconditionally and that love will abound.

I leave only a bag of toys and temporary joy for a season;

But you leave a heart of love, full of purpose and reasons.

I have a lot of believers and what one might call fame;

But I never healed the blind or tried to help the lame.

I have rosy cheeks and a voice full of laughter;

But no nail—scarred hands or a promise of the hereafter.

You may find several of me in town or at a mall;

But there is only one omnipotent you, to answer a sinner’s call.

And so, my dear precious Jesus, I kneel here to pray;

To worship and adore you on this, your holy birthday.

Read to your Child Day – and Every Day

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By Diane Forrest

When my son was born, the first piece of advice she gave me was to read to him every day.  Well I took her advice, and not only did he excel in school, but 25 years later he still reads!  I read somewhere that you should read to your child 20 minutes every day...well I never put a time limit on reading.  I wanted him to enjoy books, and I would read to him for as long as he wanted, and he would usually want to read.  I would take him to the library and check out at least 25 books at a time, sometimes he got the same books over and over again.    And as he got older, he started reading the books to me.

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I continued the reading tradition with my stepson's children.  They always got their kids toys for birthdays and Christmas, and were always complaining about running out of room, so I would send books to them, starting out with a children's Bible, and continuing with the classics.  In today's world, people are so busy with extracurricular activities, technology such as computers, video games, and television, that sometimes, just snuggling up on a couch, or tucking a child in bed at night, books are sometimes overlooked.  Reading with your child will not only form a special bond with them but will also expand their knowledge and vocabulary, and learning skills.

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So today, if you have a child, take some time and read to them, if you aren't around any children, send some books to them and encourage their parents to read to them.  One of my stepson's favorite gifts from my husband is the recordable book my husband made before he passed away.  He read the night before Christmas for his grandson, and he listened to it nightly.

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Read to your child today, and start the roadwork for a brighter future.

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Boxing Day

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By Diane Forrest

When I first heard the term Boxing Day, I pictured two guys in a ring taking swings at each other.  Then I heard somewhere that it was a day to pack up all your Christmas things in boxes.  So I decided to do a little investigation about this day.

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Boxing Day was started in England and has been mentioned as far back as 1663.  The tradition started when on the day after Christmas metal boxes were placed outside churches and used to collect special offerings tied to the Feast of Saint Stephen.  Then it became a day when servants and tradesmen would receive gifts from their superiors or employers, known as a "Christmas box".   They would be filled with food and gifts.

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Today it is largely known as a banking holiday in the United Kingdom.  It is a day off with pay, and follows the day after Christmas, or if Christmas falls on a weekend, it is the next business day.  It is also a huge shopping day where you can find all types of sales.

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Today is Boxing Day, so spend the day shopping for sales, boxing up your Christmas decor, or making a gift box for someone you work with, or someone you forgot at Christmas time.

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