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Christmas Stories
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| posted by The Crone 637 days ago |
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As I've been sent a coupla of these, thought it appropriate to share them 
Double Angels
By David Scott, sixteen
Waking up to the sound of my alarm, I smiled at the joy of only having to
wait one more day. I got out of bed and threw some clothes on. Digging around
the kitchen for some breakfast, I settled on a bowl of Cheerios and some
leftover pizza from the night before. After watching cartoons, playing some
video games and chatting on-line with some friends, it suddenly hit me that I
hadn't bought a present for my mom. It was Christmas Eve, and the stores were
going to be closing pretty soon. So I threw some shoes on, grabbed my
skateboard and set off to the mall.
I swung open the heavy glass door into the mall only to see an incredible
sight. People were running and panicking everywhere, trying to find the perfect
gift for their loved ones. It was total madness. I decided to begin trying to
make my way through the crowds when a guy in a black coat came up to me and told
me with desperation in his voice that he had lost his brown leather wallet.
Before I could say a word, he shoved his gray business card into my hand.
"Please call me at the number on the card if you happen to find it," he
said. I looked at him, shrugged my shoulders and replied, "Yeah, no problem.
I'll do that."
He turned to stop another person, and I continued to make my way through
the unending stream of shoppers to look for a gift for my mom. I searched
everywhere, up and down the mall in every store, with no luck. Finally, toward
the very end of the mall, I spotted a small antique and glass-art store. It
looked like it might have some interesting stuff - not the same as I'd seen in
every other store. I figured I had nothing to lose so I went in.
Papers and boxes had been thrown everywhere from all the greedy Christmas
shoppers digging around for the perfect gifts. It was pretty bad. It looked
like a dirty bedroom with smelly clothes scattered around in it. As I tried to
make my way through the pile of stuff, I tripped over a box in the aisle and
fell flat on my face. I was so frustrated and worn out from shopping that I
stood up, screamed and kicked the box. It flew through the air and hit a big,
high-priced clay statue, almost knocking it over. My anger had gotten the best
of me, but luckily no harm was done.
As I picked up the box to put it back on the shelf, I noticed a flat, green
box hidden under some wrapping paper. I opened it up to find an amazing glass
plate with a Nativity scene on it. There it was, the perfect gift, just lying
in some trash waiting for me to find it. It felt like one of those moments when
you hear angels singing hallelujah and beams of light stream down right over the
place where you're standing. I smiled broadly, gathered it up and headed for
the cash register. As the cashier was ringing up my purchase, I reached into my
pocket to get my money. But my pocket was empty! I began to scramble around
searching every pocket when I realized I had left my wallet at home. This was
my last chance to get my mom a gift since the mall would be closing in ten
minutes and it was Christmas Eve. It would take me twenty minutes to skate home
and back. That's when I started to panic. Now what do I do? I silently asked
myself.
So I did the only thing I could think of at that moment: I ran outside the
store and started to beg people for money. Some looked at me like I was crazy;
others just ignored me. Finally, giving up, I slumped down on a cold bench
feeling totally defeated. I really had no idea what to do next. With my head
hanging down, I noticed that one of my shoes was untied. Great, I thought. All
I'd need now is to trip over my shoelace and break my neck. That'd be the
perfect ending to this useless trip.
I reached down to tie my shoe when I spotted a brown wallet lying next to
the front leg of the bench. I wondered if it could be the wallet that the man
in the black coat had lost. I opened it and read the name on the driver's
license inside. Yep. It was his. Then my mouth dropped in awe when I
discovered three hundred dollars inside.
I never even questioned what I should do. I knew that I had to do the
right thing, so I found a nearby pay phone and made a collect call to the number
on the gray business card. The man answered and said that he was still in the
mall. He sounded really happy and relieved. He asked me if I would meet him at
the shoe store, which happened to be right next to the antique and glass store.
When I got there, the man was so excited that he thanked me over and over while
he checked to see if his money and credit cards were still there.
I turned to drag myself out of the mall and back home when I felt the man
grab my shoulder. Turning to face him, I let him know that I hadn't taken
anything. "I can see that," he replied. "I don't think I've ever met a kid
like you who would return all that money when he could have taken it without
anybody knowing." Then he opened up the wallet and handed me four twenty-dollar
bills, thanking me again.
In great excitement, I leaped into the air and shouted, "Yes!" I thanked
him this time and told him I had to hurry and go get my mom a present before the
mall closed. I made it to the store just as they were getting ready to lock
up. The lady was really nice about it and let me in.
I bought the glass plate and started skating home, grateful that everything
had worked out. I found myself whistling Christmas carols as I replayed the
evening over in my head. Suddenly, it hit me. I realized that I had been sort
of a Christmas angel for the man who had lost his wallet, and that he had been
the same for me when I'd forgotten mine. Double angels! I thought. It was
another one of those moments when choirs of angels begin to sing and beams of
light shine down on you. I knew that I'd never forget this Christmas Eve for as
long as I lived.
The next morning, my mom opened my "miracle present." The look on her face
assured me that she really loved it. Then I told her all about what happened
when I was trying to get her gift. The story made the plate even more special
to her.
Still, to this day, she keeps that green glass plate on our main shelf as a
centerpiece. It reminds her of me, of course, but it continues to remind me
that amazing things can happen when you least expect them. Especially during
that magical time called Christmas.
I dream again
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| posted by The Crone 637 days ago |
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An Old Christmas Story
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she 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 Kerby'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 Kerby'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, and 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 second grade 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; what he didn't have was 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 in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible.) 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. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus.
so...
Expect a Miracle!
www.MaryRobinsonReynolds.com
I dream again
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| posted by The Crone 622 days ago |
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A Christmas Story -- A True Story of a Christmas
Miracle
A John Harricharan Article
Long, long ago, in a country far, far away, a little
boy lived with his parents in a two room house in a
small, tropical village. He could not have been more
than four or five years old and his entire experience
of life was limited to the fishing and farming village,
his neighbors and friends.
It wasn't that the little boy was unhappy. Given his
situation, he was a rather cheerful, optimistic lad,
but times were hard for his parents. The village was
recovering from the recent floods that had wiped out
his parents livelihood. And the Christmas holidays were
just around the corner.
Now in this little village of long ago, people of
various religions lived and worked together in harmony.
Everyone enjoyed each other's religious holidays and
everyone looked forward to the celebrations where
Christians, Hindus, Muslims and others would gather.
The parents would provide gifts for the children and
little boys and little girls would squeal with delight
as they played with their simple toys.
But this Christmas would be a little different because
of the floods. There would be celebrations, but nothing
like the ones of the past year. It was all the parents
of the little boy could do to keep their large family
fed and clothed. Even so, he wanted a special gift.
It wasn't an expensive gift by today's standards, but
in that village of long ago, as Christmas approached,
any gift would be considered expensive. Yes, you and I
would probably smile when we realize that all the
little boy wanted was a balloon -- just a simple little
blue balloon.
You see, the little boy had seen pictures of brightly
colored balloons and had even seen balloons that
belonged to children of more affluent families. But he
had never had his own balloon and so he longed for one.
In the village, balloons were only sold in one shop and
that shop was far from the little boy's home.
And the cost of a balloon? Just one penny! You would
think that a penny was hardly anything, but in those
days, literally every penny had to be used very
carefully. When the little boy's parents had to choose
between food and a balloon, the choice was naturally
food.
The little boy was very sad. For weeks he had been
thinking of the lovely, blue balloon he would get for
Christmas. After another day or so, his mother, like
all good mothers, determined to find her little boy a
penny to get his blue balloon. Again, like most
mothers, she sacrificed her own needs to get her son
his wish.
Imagine how happy the little boy was! Clutching the
penny tightly in his small hand, he set off for the
store. He did not care that he would have to walk for
almost a mile in the blazing hot sun to get his
balloon. He moved as fast as his little legs would
carry him -- sometimes half-running and then walking
quickly. Now he would have his blue balloon.
But fate played a trick on the little boy. There was no
blue balloon at the store -- only one balloon was left.
And it was a drab green one, a color he didn't really
like. He probably thought that a green balloon was
better than no balloon at all, so he bought and paid
for it. But things were to get much worse very quickly
As he was returning home, he decided to inflate the
balloon by blowing air into it. Suddenly, there was a
loud sound and the balloon burst into pieces. At first,
the boy couldn't believe it. He just stopped and stared
at the rubbery shards in his hand. After all the
trouble to get this one balloon and then, just like in
life, in a split second it was gone.
He continued walking home and although he was a brave
little chap, tears streamed down his cheeks. After all,
he was just four or five years old. His parents would
not be able to spare another penny to buy a replacement
balloon. And even if they were able to, there were no
balloons left in the store. By now, his tiny feet were
tired from all the walking so he sat down on a little
rock at the side of the road.
That's when he saw the stranger. He wasn't quite sure
why he hadn't seen the man sooner. He must have been
too absorbed in his own problems to notice anything.
Rarely were there strangers who came through the
village. The man smiled a kindly smile and inquired of
the little boy why he had tears in his eyes.
The little boy explained his plight. With a knowing
wink, the man reached into a bag he was carrying on his
shoulder and pulled out a small box. "I have a gift for
you," he said as he handed the box to the little boy.
"Go ahead. Open it," he continued. Imagine the surprise
of the little boy as he peered into the box and saw
three, uninflated, beautiful blue balloons, each one
with a picture of a star on it. He turned to say "thank
you" to the stranger, but there was nobody there. The
man was gone.
Perhaps it was an angel, thought the little boy. Or
maybe the stranger just disappeared into thin air. But
that would be magic, reasoned the little fellow. You
see, there is magic in the heart and soul of every
little boy and every little girl on Earth. They know
it, but they forget the magic as they grow older.
Years have come and years have gone, but that was one
of the happiest Christmas I ever spent. Every once in a
while, or perhaps, even more often than once in a
while, if I choose to sit quietly and revisit that
scene of yesteryear, I could still see the kindness in
the stranger's eyes and the beautiful stars on the blue
balloons.
It was a great lesson that I learned that day.
Sometimes when life takes something away from you, it
is only because it wants to bring you something much
better. Life took my little balloon because it wanted
me to have three beautiful, bigger and better balloons.
We may not understand why things happen the way they
do, but this I know: If we trust the process and we
keep on keeping on, the dark valleys of life will
eventually lead into beautiful fields of light and
splendor. You are cared for and protected by a Force
that transcends time and space -- a Force that has
existed forever and that loves you unconditionally.
Last, but not least, I must tell you this before I go!
If you want to help a little boy or a little girl get a
toy this holiday season, I will give you a link where
you can make a contribution to "Toys for Tots". Each
year, my dear friend, Rick Beneteau, runs a campaign to
raise funds to provide some needy children with a few
precious gifts.
Rick has been doing this year after year, and in some
ways, he reminds me of the stranger who walked through
the little village and brought me the three beautiful,
blue balloons. A contribution of any amount would be
welcomed. It could be as small as a dollar or as large
as you want to make it.
And it's easy to contribute through Paypal (I just made
my contribution). No matter how bad things may be with
us, we can always decide to help someone by giving even
a small amount. For it is in giving that we are able to
receive blessings beyond our fondest dreams. Here is
the link for "Toys for Tots":
http://clicks.aweber.com/z/ct/?5Bvs8r8FV65D7eq39x2rag
(InternetToyDrive.org)
I wish all of you a wonderful holiday season. It
doesn't matter which holiday you celebrate or not
celebrate, we are all in one great celebration, the
celebration of life.
May this season and the coming new year be filled with
peace, joy, prosperity and all good things for you.
Always,
John
I dream again
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| posted by The Crone 622 days ago |
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Tissue Alert...)
Always believe in MIRACLES!! Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.
"Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your friend? Your sister?"
"Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!"
the child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.
Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.
When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.
"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but .." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors. "The girl in the photograph... my granddaughter well, you see ... she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa . any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do."
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital.
"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day. "C'mon.... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.
Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall.
Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed. The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah. Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"
"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IVtubes in tact. Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender age of his own son -- 9 years old -- gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.
As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering "thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year. As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.
"Oh, yes, Santa... I do!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you, "he said.
Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night.... all is calm, all is bright." The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.
"Now, Sarah, "he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!" He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or toys -- but the gift of HOPE.
"Yes, Santa! "Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed. Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quicklyand rushed to Santa's side to thank him.
"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly.
"This is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged him.
One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa! Remember me?!"
"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her.
After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.
"You came to see me in the hospital last year!" Santa's jaw dropped.
Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her,for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy -- much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus. He had witnessed
--and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about -- this miracle of hope.
This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, God. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!
I dream again
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