"My Christmas wish for you"

"My Christmas wish for you"

By Bob Perks

First of all I wish you a spirit filled holiday season.

May those who love you and those you love be near
you. May God Bless and protect you in your travels
and bring you safely home again. May you NOT get
everything you want so that you grow in reaching
further than you thought you could to get those things
worth working hard for.

Be an observer this holiday. Participate, too. But take
30 minutes in the middle of a holiday gathering and
watch those around you. See the smiles? Hear the
forgiving voice of love? See how for the first time
in much too long a time two forever enemies bow
their heads in unity giving thanks to a single God?

Watch in the kitchen when everyone shares the
responsibilities. The end result of cooperation is
satisfaction.

Watch in the living room as generations gather
around the tree and share in each others joy while
opening presents. See the adults crawl on the
floor as they stoop down to play once more as a child.

Note the sparkle in the eye of the littlest one who has
no idea what this is all about but what ever it is it
makes me giggle.

Watch how everyone laughs for the hundredth time at
the same family stories that the old folks have told
year after year.

See the look of satisfaction on the face of grandpa and
grandma as they proudly scan the room knowing that
they did their very best to raise such a great family.

And if you look closely enough you will see the spirits
of those family members who are no longer of this world.
They live on in each of you who loved them dearly.

Stop for thirty minutes. Soak up the memories. Hold
them close to your heart for times when things seem
so desperate and lost.

These moments are the true gifts of Christmas.

They are proof that this world can be loving, kind,
forgiving, compassionate and without prejudice if we
truly will it to be.

If you should be spending this holiday by yourself for
what ever reason please know that you are never alone.
God is celebrating there with you in the quiet moments
of this day. You are His precious gift to the
world.

Know too, I swear to you, that at a single point in
my Christmas celebration I will stop what I am doing and
think of you. I will ask God to bless you in a special way.

At that very moment you will feel it and know that I kept
my promise.

You are loved.

J

Bob Perks

P.O. Box 1702

Shavertown, Pa. 18708

Contact Bob 2believe@comcast.net

"The Biggest Gift of All!"

"The Biggest Gift of All!"

By Bob Perks

"What happened to it?," the child asked.

"What happened to what?" someone replied.

"My gift for Mom and Dad. It was the smallest and it
got lost," he sadly replied.

It happens that way. It seems that when it comes to
gift giving we feel the need to out do each other. The
bigger the box, the more money we spend, the more
love expressed.

It's simply not true. It's all a lie and we know it.

"Oh, you didn't have to..."

Yes they did. The world demands it of us. You know
you would have felt rejected, ignored and overlooked
if they didn't give you something.

"I have to get a gift for Joe. He gave me something
last year."

"I'm only sending cards to people who sent them
to me."

How sad. Gift giving has become a matching game.
Or worst yet, a competition.

So it was on this Christmas morning.

"I can't believe all of the presents!" someone said.

"This is even more than last year!" the oldest child
confirmed.

"I guess Santa out did himself this year," Dad said.

"You must have been really good!" said Mom.

"Wait before you open them, let's get a picture of it all.
We can compare it to last year's gifts," said Dad.

Then the reds and greens of fancy Christmas paper flew
across the room. The bows and ribbons were crushed
among the efforts to make get to the gifts.

The youngest child was lost at times in the rush to find
his own Santa's treasures but managed to survive somehow.

"Don't forget the gifts we got for each other!" one child yelled.

The youngest child stopped what he was doing. He
wanted to watch his parents when they opened his special gift.

But it was no where to be found.

"What happened to it?," the child asked.

"What happened to what?" someone replied.

"My gift for Mom and Dad. It was the smallest and it got lost,"
he sadly replied.

The others were too busy to help him find it. They already
began clearing away the paper and he feared they had
tossed it in the garbage.

"You need to get bigger gifts. You don't lose big gifts," his
older sister said laughing.

"But it was the biggest gift of all," the child replied.

He sat down in frustration and began to cry.

"Is this it?" his brother asked as he held the little box in his
hand. "I almost stepped on it."

"That's the biggest gift of all?" the sister said mockingly.

"What a joke!"

"It is! It is!" he shouted back. "You'll see!"

Then, grabbing it from his brother's hand he straightened
out the bow and handed it to Mom.

"Daddy, come here. This is for you, too," he said while sniffling
away his tears.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to see what he had given.

Perhaps just out of curiosity, maybe just to laugh.

Carefully Mom unwrapped the gift and opened the box.

"Oh, my!" she said as she slowly sat down on the couch.

"What? What is it?" someone said.

Then Dad sat down next to her to share the special moment.

"Oh, I see." he said. Looking at his wife he humbly said, "It is
indeed the biggest gift."

Then Mom reached in, pulled out the gift and placed it on her hand.

It was the Christ Child in the cradle.

Dad glanced over to look at their manger now buried beneath
the all too many gifts.

"Clear away those things," he asked of his oldest child.

The dimly lit star attached to the manger shown down on the
spot where the Christ Child would normally be.

"But he took it from..." his sister began to say until Mom
interrupted her.

"He took it from the story of Christmas. The real reason we should be celebrating," she said.

The small child was standing next to the tree. The white lights
sparkled off the warm streams of tears that ran down his face.

Quietly he explained..."Every year we think about how to give the
biggest gift. I thought that this year I would give the best gift anyone
could ever give. The pastor at Bible school asked us to think about
the greatest gift of all. Then I thought about Jesus and knew that I
could not ever out give God. So my gift to you and Dad was the
Biggest gift of all...ever!"

Suddenly it was silent. Mom glanced around the room and humbly
said, "I am ashamed. We had forgotten the meaning of it all."

Then motioning to her son she said, "Come here. You were right.
The Littlest One was indeed the Biggest Gift of all!"

"I wish you enough!"

J

Bob Perks

I encourage you to share my stories but
I do ask that you keep my name and contact
information with my work.

P.O. Box 1702

Shavertown, Pa. 18708

Contact Bob 2believe@comcast.net

"I Wish You enough!"
2001 Bob Perks

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear
much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye."

Traditions Hold Families Together

Traditions Hold Families Together

A thousand times, I've unpacked our Christmas decorations, lights and holiday baubles. Everything in the boxes reminds me of an event, a stage of life, or a small boy's best work.

As each adornment comes to rest in its proper place, something wonderful happens. I start to relive the years through memories of past holiday seasons. There's something about chubby faces framed by Mason jar lids and macaroni angels that loosen the tears and wash the soul.

I'm immersed in the wonder that I've been given another year to know my boys and husband. I recall with amazing acuity the seasons through which we've lived. With 20/20 vision, I see how situations we questioned happened for a reason, trials brought triumphs and little boys became good men.

I force myself to pause momentarily and remember the failures and mistakes. They have a way of keeping things in perspective.

Once the house is properly dressed, it's time for our family traditions to begin. Sweets, treats and delicious delicacies magically appear. Eggnog and hot chocolate flow freely, games and puzzles are called into service, parties planned, calendars coordinated and visits with relatives booked. We've always done it this way. These traditions are what bring a sense of security to our hectic lives.

Our holiday traditions have carried us through difficult times. When there was little money to buy gifts, our unchanging traditions diverted our attention from what we didn't have to what we did.

It never ceases to amaze me that hardly any of us can recall the gifts we received as recently as last year, but we remember exactly what we did, who came to visit and everything that contributed to the warmth and wonder of the season.

If you are anxious to start some holiday traditions in your home, look for guidance in the stories of Christmas or Hanukkah, or the festivities celebrated in your family's country of origin. Interview your parents or grandparents to learn about their childhood family traditions. Resurrect them. Emulate the activities of the happiest people you know. Watch what they do during the holidays and start doing that yourself. If you do something once and plan to do it again, it qualifies as a tradition.

I've never dreaded the close of the holidays or considered repacking our decorations a depressing chore. As I put everything away, I think about how quickly time passes, and how soon I'll be unpacking again. I daydream about what might happen in the next twelve months, wonder what possible challenges or dramatic changes we'll face in the coming year. Our lives could be altered drastically by the time I open these boxes again.

With the joy of the season past still lingering and the promise of the year to come beckoning, I cram the last box into its spot. I slide the door closed, hoping everything won't melt during the summer, haul out the vacuum and replace the furniture exactly as it was before because that, too, is a tradition.

SOURCE: Mary Hunt - Everyday Cheapskate NL

The Real Gift

"The Real Gift"
By Bob Perks

Over the next few days you will...
laugh a little more,
smile at strangers,
welcome family,
employ a little courtesy to others,
be thankful for what you get,
get more out of what you give,
believe more than you might otherwise,
hope more than usual,
try harder to do the right thing,
pray, although you might not always,
find peace in a moment,
and joy in a day.

It wasn't just that on this day a baby was born.
It isn't just that in believing in Him we are
promised life eternal.

By His coming we have learned to live the way
God planned. Not just this one day. This is
the way we should live every day of our lives.

Go back now and read the first 12 lines.

That is the real message. This is "The Real Gift."
"I wish you enough!"
J
Bob Perks

I encourage you to share my stories but
I do ask that you keep my name and contact
information with my work.

"I Wish You enough!"
© 2001 Bob Perks
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear
much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye."

I encourage you to share my stories but
I do ask that you keep my name and contact
information with my work.

P.O. Box 1702
Shavertown, Pa. 18708
Contact Bob 2believe@comcast.n

If you would like to receive Bob's Inspirational
stories, please visit http://www.IWishYouEnough.com
and submit your email address.

A Humble Loaf of Bread

A HUMBLE LOAF OF BREAD
by Bobbi Hahn

It seemed like the perfect gift for my father.

You know how hard it is for adult children to select gifts for their parents. After all, what do they want and/or need, really? Flannel shirts and ties had been given in abundance over the years, and since he'd retired, shopping became even more difficult.

He was passionate about photography, but I wouldn't have had the slightest idea of what sort of equipment he might like.

He was a marvelous gardener, but the tiny garden at their row house in Philadelphia (before they were known as town homes) had no need of plants or seeds in December!

I had discovered a wonderful cookbook called Visions of Sugarplums, by Mimi Sheraton, and decided to make something for him from it because it contained recipes from all the countries that celebrate Christmas. He was of Czech descent, and the recipe for a sweet, braided bread containing almonds sounded perfect because he loved anything I made, and he also had a sweet tooth.

We purchased all of the ingredients, and my husband numbered the braids in the illustration so we'd be able to keep them straight. It smelled divine as it baked, and I was thrilled with its crusty golden color when I removed it from the oven.

We were living in Ohio by that time, so I packed it carefully with their other Christmas gifts and sent it off to Philadelphia.

I was not prepared for its reception. My father called with lavish praise for the bread, saying he couldn't believe his eyes when he opened the aluminum foil. With great emotion, he told me that when he and his brothers were very young boys, it was traditional for the bread -- called vanocka -- to be prepared every Christmas Eve.

I had given him back a beloved childhood memory, all without thinking! Legend said that every living being in the house had to partake of the bread before midnight of Christmas Eve, for luck. So all the dogs and cats, the occasional mouse, and whatever other creatures lived under their roof had to have a morsel.

That year, my husband and I began a tradition for our sons by preparing a vanocka for our home, as well. Cats and dogs were treated to a bite, much to the delight of our young sons.
I made the bread each Christmas until my father died. That year, I just couldn't bring myself to make it because it brought back memories of how happy I'd made him with such a simple gift, and it broke my heart that he would no longer enjoy it. I haven't made it in the several years since.
But this year, I'm going to have flour dust all over my kitchen again, and the scent of baking bread and roasted almonds will fill the air.

Our youngest son and his wife will be sharing Christmas with us, and it's time to remember the joy a humble loaf of bread unwittingly brought to my daddy.

-- Bobbi Hahn aol.com>

__________________________________________________
Bobbi is a freelance writer, poet and calligrapher who lives with her husband and two cats beside a lagoon on a barrier island off the coast of South Carolina. She says, "The book is still available, so if you're looking for some marvelous, traditional Christmas recipes, find a copy! It's amazing how similar some of the recipes are from one country to another, differing only by a few ingredients. One country might use almonds, another walnuts. I love these traditions!"

You can find a copy of the Visions of Sugarplums book Bobbi refers to here:
<http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0060140364/heart>

Creative Tips For the Holidays

These are some fun ideas: I like the turkey tip and the gift game.

MAP WRAP. Many public libraries sell old books, magazines and periodicals. I buy old maps for 10 cents each and use them as wrapping paper for gifts. I buy plain ribbon from the $1 bin at my local craft store. While some people spend $20 for gift wrapping for the holidays, I spend $2. If only books and magazines are available, buy old copies of National Geographic with maps inside and use those. Melissa C., California

TURKEY TIP. Grocery stores often run good sales on whole turkeys prior to and after the holidays. I remove the legs and wings, and pack them separately in freezer bags. One turkey can make quite a few meals and it's easier to fit in the freezer once cut apart. Jill M., e-mail

GIFT GAME. My daughter started a game with the presents at Christmastime. We wrap gifts without name tags. Each person chooses a gift and, after opening it, tries to determine who it is for. We also wrap "junk" in fancy packages and watch faces as each gift is opened. Then, we hand out the real gifts after the laughter dies down. The important thing is to know your family and what would work with them to make it fun. Veronica B., e-mail


WARM THE SOUL. We fix a large coffee percolator pot of cranberry cider at the office every Friday during the holiday season. Cinnamon sticks and cloves go in the basket, and all clients and visitors who stop by are offered hot cider and donuts or cookies. Everyone loves it! Jane W., e-mail

SOURCE: Everyday Cheapskate newsletter

Gingergread on Parade 2009

Hello friends,

Today included a trek to the Mormon Trail Center to take in Gingerbread on Parade. It is amazing to see the creativity involved! Take a virtual trip with me:

Irish Christmas Blessing

The light of the Christmas star to you
The warmth of home and hearth to you
The cheer and good will of friends to you
The hope of a childlike heart to you
The joy of a thousand angels to you
The love of the Son and God's peace to you.
-- an Irish Christmas Blessing

A Cowboy's Christmas

My grandmother used to have a Christmas album with Pat Boone reciting this poem. I cried every single time I heard it.

A COWBOY'S CHRISTMAS PRAYER
By S. Omar Barker (1894-1985)

I ain't much good at prayin', and You may not know me, Lord-
I ain't much seen in churches where they preach Thy Holy Word,
But you may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
A-lookin' after cattle, feelin' thankful when it rains,
Admirin' Thy great handiwork, the miracle of grass,
Aware of Thy kind spirit in the way it comes to pass
That hired men on horseback and the livestock we tend
Can look up at the stars at night and know we've got a friend.

So here's ol' Christmas comin' on, remindin' us again
Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
A cowboy ain't no preacher, Lord, but if You'll hear my prayer,
I'll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere.
Don't let no hearts be bitter, Lord.
Don't let no child be cold.
Make easy beds for them that's sick and them that's weak and old.
Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we're after,
And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.

I've seen ol' cows a-starvin, and it ain't no happy sight:
Please don't leave no one hungry, Lord, on thy good Christmas night-
No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet-
I'll aim to do my best to help You find 'em chuck to eat.

I'm just a sinful cowpoke, Lord-ain't got no business prayin'-
But still I hope You'll ketch a word or two of what I'm sayin':
We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord-I reckon you'll agree
There ain't no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain't free.
So one thing more I'll ask You, Lord: Just help us what you can
To save some seeds of freedom for the future sons of man.

Little Bell

Little Bell

Hidden in the back of the tree, deep in the branches, Little Bell hung out of sight.
Her brass surface tarnished and scratched after four generations of Christmas. The
pretty glass ornaments hung on the outer branches for all to see, but Little Bell was out of
sight.

Little Bell looked through the branches. She saw the other ornaments and was
sad. She saw the ceramic Santa, with the package in his hands. The package was torn by a
little boy, who thought there was a present inside. Santa's head had chips from years of
being hung and put away. The Santa ornament was damaged, but still placed near the
front of the tree for all to see. Little Bell was way in the back - hidden. All the ornaments Bell hung with through the years, were at the front of the tree, but Bell was alone.

Little Bell remembered when she hung at the front of the tree. Christmas came.
Boxes were carried to the living room and opened. The tree was placed in the center the
large room. Hands reached into the boxes. Bell, her brass surface shining brightly, would
be lifted from a box. The hand would shake her, and she would ring with joy. Her sound
brought smiles to those who held her. She'd be placed in the front and center of the tree,
for all to admire.

One year, smaller hands held her. They helped the big hands. The little hands
hung Bell in the right place, but they could not leave little bell alone. They'd touch Bell
to make her ring, but the big hands told them, "No! You might knock the tree down."
Bell was hung higher, away from the little hands.

Over the years, the little hands grew larger, and the big hands allowed them to
touch her. They placed her on the tree and allowed the smaller hands to move her.

A game began. Bell was moved around the tree. The one who found her, got to
hang her in a new place. Bell was hidden in the deepest and darkest places of the tree.
She waited patiently, until the smaller hands found her, made her ring, and then moved
her to a new spot.

Little Bell was the favorite ornament on the tree. She was proud.

After many years, the little hands got bigger. They hid her on the tree, and Little
Bell hung hidden from view - forgotten. The game was over. Bell was sad. She hung
alone at the back of the tree.

Years later, one of the big hands handed Little Bell to one of the small hands that
had grown. "This is yours. Take Little Bell with you."

The next Christmas, Bell was placed in the front of the tree. Her brass was
tarnished, but her ring was pure. She made the hand thing smile. She was happy.

A few Christmas' later, new small hands were putting "Little Bell" on the tree.
They played the game bell loved. Bell waited for the little hands to find her. They moved
her around the tree. Little Bell loved the game. She was the center of attention again. The
other ornaments hung brightly on the tree, but Little Bell, who was hidden, was the one
the hands reached for.

Those new little hands grew bigger, and Little Bell was once again placed on the
tree, her surface dull and tarnished from years of use. She was placed deep in the tree,
hidden from view. The big hands still playing the game, but there were no little hands to
look for her.

Little Bell was sad.

One day, a big hand reached out to her, "This is a pretty ornament! Where did it
come from?"

The other 'Big Hand' said, "That is the Little Bell. I played with it when I was a
kid. My brothers and I hid it on the tree and took turns trying to find it. Mom knew I
loved it and gave it to me, so her grandkids could play the game I did.

The new "Big Hand" took Little Bell, polished her brass, and hung her at the front
of the tree. Little Bell's brass reflected the lights and glowed with pride. The "Hand"
removed ornaments around Little Bell, so she would have her own special spot on the
tree. After years of hiding, Bell now hangs in a special spot at the front of the tree, but
prays for the day little hands will once again hide her.

Michael T. Smith

Kipp Family Christmas Tree 2009

May the spirit of Christmas bring you peace,
The gladness of Christmas give you hope,
The warmth of Christmas grant you love.

We finally got our tree up yesterday and the house now looks ready for Christmas. I might not be, but the house is! I think next year I would like to try my hand at making a tree skirt; one that combines Hanukkah symbols and Christmas symbols. I also want to make David a Christmas stocking that is green and has a rack of billiard balls toward the toe. Alas, lots of ideas and little time.

Today is baking day: orange-cranberry-nut cookies, gingerbread cookies, and white chocolate apricot oatmeal cookies. I have a cookie exchange at work Tuesday so it will be nice to have most of the baking done. The only other thing I'll be making it is my grandmother's poppy cake.

The Christmas Pageant

THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT



My husband and I had been happily married (most of the time) for five years but hadn't been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious praying and promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a perfect mother, love it with all my heart and raise it with His word as my guide.

God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us with another son.

The following year, He blessed us with yet another son.

The year after that we were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd been blessed right into poverty. We now had four children, and the oldest was only four years old.

I learned never to ask God for anything unless I meant it As a minister once told me, "If you pray for rain, make sure you carry an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start. God had entrusted me with four children and I didn't want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding...when they started a hotel for homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours to catch all twenty-three frogs .

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a blanket to see how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand diapers, never eating a hot meal and never sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time, I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn’t keep my promise to be a perfect mother - I didn't even come close... I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were going to church to worship God , and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to "wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us everlasting life, and my son thought it was generous of God to give us his "last wife."

My proudest moment came during the children's Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds and my youngest son was a wise man. This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We found the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes."

But he was nervous and said, "The baby was wrapped in wrinkled clothes."

My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes."

A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing.

I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying, "Mama-mama."

Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt at the manger and announced, "We are the three wise men, and we are bringing gifts of gold, common sense and fur."

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got a standing ovation.

"I've never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one," laughed the pastor, wiping tears from his eyes

"For the rest of my life, I'll never hear the Christmas story without thinking of gold, common sense and fur."

"My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest blessing," I said as I dug through my purse for an aspirin.

Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.

Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher .

Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.

Had no army, yet kings feared Him.

He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.

He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.


He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.

Feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us

Messiah

Hello everyone, I hope all of you are enjoying your holiday preparations and time with friends and family. We are slowly pulling things together for Hanukkah and Christmas. I'll get the tree up at some point this weekend but I need to replace lights first. Holiday baking will begin this weekend as well since I have a cookie exchange and Secret Santa at work next Tuesday. I sang in the Messiah yesterday with the Voices of Omaha and it was an incredible experience that I will be enjoying for years to come.

It was gorgeous and the sound in the hall was wonderful. I had never physically seen a harpsichord, much less heard one, before the concert so it was all very neat.

It is definitely a moving piece to sing and challenging to learn. We dedicated the Hallelujah chorus to our loved ones who are no longer with us.

Here are some pictures. I am the 3rd from the left in the picture with just the back row onstage.

Memory Tree

I pull the boxes of ornaments from the closet and prepare myself for a trip into
the past. No photo album can bring back as many memories as my box of ornaments.
Like a picture, each ornament contains a memory.

There's the box of wooden ones, handmade and painted with care. Within the assortment is a small man on skis, a mouse on a swing, even Santa in his sleigh. I
remember when my Georgia I bought them. It was our first Christmas as a married
couple. We hung them on the tree and dreamed how our future children would love them.

I pick up a ceramic Santa. My aunt gave it to me when I was four. He holds a
tiny box in his hands. There's a tear in it's wrapper, a tear caused by a boy who couldn't
contain his curiosity.

A tiny brass bell is next. My brothers and I had fun with this bell. We took
turns hiding it in the tree. The others had to find it. We played "Find the Bell," until mom
yelled at us for shaking the tree to make the bell ring and reveal its hiding spot.

Mom knew how much the bell meant to me. The year I had my own family, she
gave me the bell. I played the same game with my own children.

I pick up a pretty red ball. My daughter touched it when she was two. We'd put
Venessa down for her nap and decorated while she slept. We wanted to surprise her.

We finished I sat back with a glass of eggnog and waited for her to wake.

I see her face again. She ran from her room, fully charged and ready to take on
the world. She was five feet from the tree before she looked up and stopped. Her eyes
opened wide. Her jaw dropped open, as she emitted a small cry of delight. She walked
forward, raised her hand, and touched a red ball - the ball now held in my hand.



She turned to me. Her eyes reflected the colored lights. "Daddy, what is
it?"

"It's Christmas, Sweetie." My voice quivered with emotion, "It's Christ's
birthday. We're going to celebrate it."

Her sparkling eyes, hanging jaw, and soft skin made me hold my arms out. She
ran into them and gave me a hug that would have melted even Scrooge's hard heart.

I pick up a cracked green ball, a veteran of the first time I allowed my kids to
decorate the tree. They hung all the balls on one branch. When they turned for another, I
quickly moved the one before it to a better spot. I laughed when they told Grandma they
decorated all by themselves.

Near the bottom of the box, I find a brass plaque. It brings back a special
memory. It has my son's name and birth date on it. Justin was supposed to be a New
Year's Eve baby, but he decided he wasn't going to miss Christmas.

Justin was three weeks old, when we took him to the Christmas Eve service at
our church. That night, our minister explained to us the real meaning of Christmas. As
she spoke, she wandered down the aisle and stopped beside us. She reached down and
asked, "May I?" I nodded and handed him to her. She lifted him into her arms.

She was quiet as she walked back to face the congregation. Turning, she held
my son high and said, "This is the real meaning of Christmas: The birth of a new life!"

She cradled my son as she spoke. A single tear trickled down my cheek. She
walked around the sanctuary, displaying my son to those gathered for the Christmas
service. The room seemed empty of everyone but her and my family. Overtaken with
emotion, I reached out, hugged Georgia and Vanessa to my side, and thought, "This
will be a Christmas to remember."



In 2003 I pulled the ornaments out again. Justin and I were not going to be
home for Christmas that year. We were going to spend Christmas with friends in Ohio,
but I wanted Christmas to be the way it always was. I wanted Christmas to be the way
Justin remembered.

Georgia had died two months earlier. Justin and I were alone in New Jersey.
Vanessa was in Ohio. It had to be the way it was before - the tree perfect. The
ornaments - the memories - had new meaning that Christmas. The memories of
happiness were raw, but the tree over came them. A tear trickled from my eye. Good
things may pass, but their memories hang on.

A year later, I hung a new ornament on our tree. It was one I got for Ginny, my new wife. It's a penguin. Ginny loves penguin. This year, I have one she gave me to hang. It's an
Ohio State Football ornament - new pages added to my album.

I hang my personal album for all to see, sit back and relax. For several weeks,
I search my magical tree until I find my special spot. It could be anywhere on the tree,
but I know it's there - a spot where light shines perfectly on one or two balls and reflects
off a length of tinsel. It's perfect in every way.

I lock my eyes on it and enjoy its beauty. I relive my life. It's there for all
to enjoy. I invite you to share it with me. Look at the ornaments. Flip the pages. Share
my life. It's my magical tree

Michael T. Smith

Note: This year we are living with Ginny's daughter's family. They don't have room for my
big tree. My ornaments will stay packed away for another year. Next year they will be even
more special.

Festival of Trees - A Taste of Christmas

Hello friends,

It's been a while since I've written but I have a moment to take a breather so I thought I'd share some pictures with you. Yesterday David and I went to the Festival of Trees at the local casino. There were over 100 decorated trees, which are then auctioned off and the funds are used to pay for arts programs throughout the year.

Here is a glimpse of what we saw: