Math Quiz

Who is your role model?

Try it without looking at the answers.

1. Pick your favorite number between 1-9.
2. Multiply by 3 then
3. Add 3, then again multiply by 3 (I'll wait while you get the calculator...)
4. You'll get a 2 or 3 digit number
5. Add the digits together

Now scroll down..................

















Now with that number see who your role model is from the list below:
1. Einstein
2. Abraham Lincoln
3. John McCain
4. Nelson Mandela
5. Bill Gates
6. Gandhi
7. Brad Pitt
8. Hitler
9. Michelle (ME!)
10. Barack Obama

I know.....I just have that effect on people.....one day you too can be like me!

PS. Stop picking different numbers. I am your idol. Just deal with it!

* Thanks to Uncle Lee, for sending this math quiz. And I had to replace my name for #9, sorry Lee!

Merry, Merry Christmas!

I had the hardest time waking up Christmas morning. I always stay up way too late Christmas Eve wrapping presents, cleaning the house, and making breakfast for Christmas morning. I probably slept a total of 4 hours on Christmas Eve.

Luckily, the kids slept in until 9:00 am. They didn't fall asleep until 12:30 and Ava didn't fall asleep until 2:00 am. She was so wired and didn't wake up until 11:00 am. We opened presents and then later, our extended family came over to see the kids and their presents and had breakfast at our house.

Ashley & Abbey were thrilled to open their American Girl dolls. They also received a magazine subscription to American Girl, an American Girl game, Littlest Pet Shop games for their Nintendo DS and Littlest Pet Shop toys.

Ashley & Abbey with their "Just Like You" American Girl dolls.

Ashley with her newest Webkinz, a hedgehog she named, Halle, to add to her collection of Webkinz.

Abbey with her newest Webkinz, a goldfish, to add to her collection of Webkinz.

Aliza anticipating opening her HUGE present-what could it be?

A Dora Magical Welcome House (and in Aliza's words, "Mom, did you know I asked Santa for this?") It's a good thing Santa came through!

Alex, poster boy for Guitar Hero, was thrilled to open Guitar Hero World Tour with 2 new guitars. He also received Mario Brothers Super Smash Brawl for the Wii, Rock Band II for the Wii and Guitar Hero: Aerosmith.

Gotta love Rock Band to fulfill my brother Jared's dream of being a rock star. Love how Rock Band brings out the rocker in all of us. Here's my brother, Jeff at the drums, Alex at the guitar and brother, Jared lead singer.

My mom getting her baby fix holding Ben & Ava.

Ava likes crawling into Ashley & Abbey's bratz chairs that Grandma gave them.

Thanks to all of our family members for spending Christmas with us! The kids love all of the presents you gave them. We loved spending time with each of you!

Christmas Eve

So, here's how we spent our Christmas Eve, full of family and full of traditions.

Before bedtime, the kids each open a present, which is always a new pair of pajamas.

We went to Jason's parents for dinner and then opened presents.

Jason's mom & Ava.

Josh, our nephew and one of my daily blog readers. I added a few more songs to my playlist, Josh. Let me know if you have any requests! One of my new favorites "Read my mind" by The Killers.

Jason's brother, Steve, our nephew, Jake and Alex.

Then, we headed to my mom's house, which is conveniently only a minute or two drive from Jason's parents house. She had a turkey dinner and then we did our annual nativity scene with the kids while we read Luke 2. We started this tradition in 1977, when my little brother, Joe was born.

Aliza was thrilled to be Mary this year. Ben as baby Jesus. Aaron as Joseph and Ashley, Ava & Abbey as angels.

The kids talked my mom into letting them each open a present.

When we came home, Aliza was so excited to sprinkle her reindeer dust (a bag of gold glitter so Santa & his reindeers could find our house) that she got at preschool last week. She's been carrying this bag of glitter with her everywhere she went and couldn't wait until Christmas Eve.

Holiday Mix

One of my favorite Holiday treats-the famous holiday mix. Thanks to Jason's parents for providing this snack on Christmas Eve.

4 cups corn chex
4 cups rice chex
2 cups coconut, shredded
2 cups slivered almonds

Sauce:
1 cup sugar
1 cup karo syrup
3/4 cup margarine

Mix all ingredients in large bowl. Make sauce in sauce pan. Boil for 2 minutes. Pour over cereal mixture and stir. ENJOY!

On the 12th Day of Christmas

On the 12th day of Christmas, we hope you will always know, How much we loved surprising you, we hope it really showed.

Attached to the note & story was a nativity scene.

IT'S CHRISTMAS NIGHT
by Max Lucado

It's Christmas night. The house is quiet. Even the crackle is gone from the fireplace. Warm coals issue a lighthouse glow in the darkened den. Stockings hang empty on the mantle. The tree stands naked in the corner. Christmas cards, tinsel, and memories remind Christmas night of Christmas day. It's Christmas night. What a day it has been! Spiced tea. Santa Claus. Cranberry sauce. "Thank you, so much." "You shouldn't have!" "Grandma is on the phone." Knee-deep wrapping paper. "It just fits." Flashing cameras. It's Christmas night. The girls are in bed. Jenna dreams of her talking Big Bird and clutches her new purse. Andrea sleeps in her new Santa pajamas. It's Christmas night. The tree that only yesterday grew from soil made of gifts, again grows from the Christmas tree stand. Presents are now possessions. Wrapping paper is bagged and in the dumpsite. The dishes are washed and leftover turkey awaits next week's sandwiches. It's Christmas night. The last of the carolers appeared on the ten o'clock news. The last of the apple pie was eaten by my brother-in-law. And the last of the Christmas albums have been stored away having dutifully performed their annual rendition of chestnuts, white Christmases, and red-nosed reindeer. It's Christmas night.

The midnight hour has chimed and I should be asleep, but I'm awake. I'm kept awake by one stunning thought. The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed. The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stop watches and weapons. We stepped off our racetracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.
It's the season to be jolly because, more than at any other time, we think of him. More than in any other season, his name is on our lips. And the result? For a few precious hours our heavenly yearnings intermesh and we become a chorus. A ragtag chorus of longshoremen, Boston lawyers, illegal immigrants, housewives, and a thousand other peculiar persons who are banking that Bethlehem's mystery is in reality, a reality. "Come and behold him" we sing, stirring even the sleepiest of shepherds and pointing them toward the Christ-child.

For a few precious hours, he is beheld. Christ the Lord. Those who pass the year without seeing him, suddenly see him. People who have been accustomed to using his name in vain, pause to use it in praise. Eyes, now free of the blinders of self, marvel at his majesty. All of a sudden he's everywhere. In the grin of the policeman as he drives his paddy wagon full of presents to the orphanage. In the twinkle in the eyes of the Taiwanese waiter as he tells of his upcoming Christmas trip to see his children. In the emotion of the father who is too thankful to finish the dinner table prayer. He's in the tears of the mother as she welcomes home her son from overseas. He's in the heart of the man who spent Christmas morning on skid row giving away cold baloney sandwiches and warm wishes. And he's in the solemn silence of the crowd of shopping mall shoppers as the elementary school chorus sings "Away in a Manger." Emmanuel. He is with us. God came near. It's Christmas night. In a few hours the cleanup will begin -- lights will come down, trees will be thrown out. Size 36 will be exchanged for size 40, eggnog will be on sale for half-price. Soon life will be normal again. December's generosity will become January's payments and the magic will begin to fade. But for the moment, the magic is still in the air. Maybe that's why I'm still awake. I want to savor the spirit just a bit more. I want to pray that those who beheld him today will look for him next August. And I can't help but linger on one fanciful thought: if he can do so much with such timid prayers lamely offered in December, how much more could he do if we thought of him every day?

Santa Tracker

Our kids have fun on Christmas Eve tracking Santa and finding out where he is currently delivering presents. Click here to see where Santa is now. Also, on this website you can click on the Kid's Countdown section, where they can play Christmas computer games, which I'm finding is a very useful tool to keep them busy to help me tackle my Christmas to-do list.

Christmas Brunch Delight

One of my favorite Christmas traditions on Christmas morning after the kids open all of their presents is to enjoy a yummy Christmas breakfast together. This is one of my favorites to make on Christmas morning. We also make cinnamon rolls, bacon, and rushti (my Great-Grandma's recipe-delicious hashbrowns). We'll usually serve this all morning since both mine & Jason's families come over Christmas morning to see the kids and their presents. ENJOY!

CHRISTMAS BRUNCH DELIGHT

8 slices bread with crusts removed
2 cups cheddar cheese, grated
1 1/2 cups ham chopped or sausage cooked
8 eggs beaten
1 1/2 cups milk
1/2 tsp salt
**************
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup milk

Butter, grease or "pam" a 9 x 13 pan. Line with bread. Sprinkle cheese on top. Sprinkle with the chopped ham or the cooked sausage. Beat eggs with milk and mustard. Pour on top of the bread, cheese and meat. Refrigerate overnight or can bake right then (Best if done overnight) When ready to bake, mix soup with milk and pour on top of mixture. Cook 1 1/4 - 1 1/2 hours at 300 degrees. Serves 12.

On the 11th Day of Christmas

On the 11th day of Christmas, we hope you take some time, To hear a little music that is heavenly and divine!

Attached to the note & story was a christmas music CD.

John was almost five years old that Christmas. Wasn't it only natural that he was filled with awe and curiosity on that special night? He did not have an important part in the school Christmas pageant, but was just one of the many kindergarten class. As the children gathered at school for the program, the teachers were busy with preparations and costumes of those chosen to be Mary and Joseph and the angels, shepherds, and wise men. No one noticed a little boy go out the door into hall. But he had heard the baby! There was to be a baby-he knew that.

Down the dark hall was the way he had to go. He wondered why God didn't send the star, and then he remembered. The star wasn't for him. It was really for the shepherds and the wise men, and he wasn't anybody important like that. He'd have to be very brave and go alone to find the baby. He turned the corner cautiously. At the far end of the hall, he saw a light coming from a doorway. Then he heard the baby's cry more clearly. He knew then where to go. Mary Meadowcroft knelt beside the brown beanbag chair her husband, Joe, had brought to school for his sixth-grade reading corner as she put young Jeffrey down to rest. He was normally a contented baby. Had she know he would cry like this, she would have stayed at home with him instead of coming to school with Joe to see the pageant.

The sudden presence of so many eager children must have frightened Jeffrey for he began crying almost immediately and would not be stilled. At least the program would not be long. Mary decided to wait here in Joe's classroom with the baby, so his crying would not disturb anyone. Suddenly, she was startled to hear a little voice questioning, "Are you Mary?" "Why, yes, I am. she answered with amazement. "Do I know you?" "I came to see your baby," said John. "I didn't know He ever cried like that," he added softly. "Jeffrey is just frightened to be in a strange place." "Hi," John said softly as he knelt down beside the baby. "I'm John. I'm not a wise man or anything, but they couldn't come." The baby stopped crying to turn and look at John. Mary remained perfectly still, her mouth drawn into an astonished, "Oh!"

"I forgot to bring you something, little Jeffrey Jesus." The baby was smiling now. John put out a tentative finger to touch him and said in whispered adoration, "I really do love you, Jeffrey Jesus." Suddenly John smiled. "I know what I can give you! I'll sing you a song that we've been practicing. I know all the words!"

By now John's parents had come searching for him. They were stopped in the doorway by the sight of Mary and the baby listening to John's gift of song.

Bless all the dear children in your tender care.
And take us to Heaven to live with your there.

The baby beamed at the singing child while three adults, their hearts full of wonder, saw a glimpse of an angel that night.

On the 10th Day of Christmas

On the 10th day of Christmas, we give you a special treat, A story full of love, and gifts with some chocolate to eat.

Attached to the note and story was chocolates.

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI
by O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Savior of the World

Last Thursday, we went to see Savior of the World, a musical drama presented by our church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) which was about the Savior's birth and resurrection and held at the conference center in Salt Lake City.

The play was for persons of age of eight years and older (technically Abbey is only 7, but I thought close enough, she's can sit still) so we took "Team A" (Alex, Ashley & Abbey, our oldest 3 kids, it's easier to call our 3 oldest, who are in school all day "Team A" & and the youngest 2, who are at home all day "Team B". Yes, probably a sign I have a large family when it's easier to label them into a group instead of saying their individual names! We laughed when we heard our friends, David & Mindy call their kids "Team A & Team B" and then realized their pure genius!).

My brother, Jeff & wife, Missy also came with us, which we tried to get pictures with them, but Missy claimed she was having a "bad hair day" Nice try, Missy! Your bad hair day is a great hair day for me! But it was nice to have them with us, plus we didn't have to ask strangers to take our pictures.

At the conference center after the play. This was the first time any of us had seen Savior of the World. I was so glad we took the time this crazy, hectic and busy Christmas season to reflect on the life of Christ. I love the printed message on the inside of the program written by the First Presidency of the Church:

"We solemnly testify that His life, which is central to all human history, neither began in Bethlehem nor concluded on Calvary. He was the Firstborn of the Father, the Only Begotten Son in the flesh, the Redeemer of the world."

We talked to the kids on the way home about the play. I want them to have as many experiences as possible to feel of the Spirit. We talked about specific times during the play when they felt a warm feeling, felt like crying or felt at peace. Poor Alex had a hard time concentrating because Alex ended up sitting by Jeff (not the distraction!) and on the other side of him was three teenage girls who were talking the entire time about people's hair and clothes. Alex said they kept saying "Oh, I lost my phone" and then realized their phone was sitting on her lap. Ok, as I'm typing this, it probably doesn't sound too funny, but Alex imitating the teenage girls was pretty hilarious.

My neighbor, Sarah, played Mary Magdalene and nailed the part. She has an amazing voice, but normally has blond, shoulder length hair that made it hard to recognize her in this braided wig.

Thanks, Mom for watching Aliza & Ava! It was a great night and nice to spend quality time with our older kids.

Aliza's Christmas Dance Party

Aliza had a Christmas dance party last week. Her dance class performed a mini "nutcracker" for the parents to watch. She has absolutely loved dance this year plus as an extra bonus she has five little friends from her neighborhood that we carpool with. Aliza and her friends did such a great job dancing.

Here's a few random shots I took:

The beginning of the performance. Started out with capes which turned to....

dresses as they turned into "sugar plum fairies."

The props continued with crowns & wands to....

sashes of ribbon.

After they danced for the parents, they had a little gift exchange and they each shared their favorite treat with each other in the class.

Aliza's dance class with teacher Miss Lynell. That's me behind the bright flash!

Hayden, Ashley & Aliza.

On the 9th Day of Christmas

On the 9th day of Christmas, we look to the sky at night, To remember the "brightest of them all" that shone so bright.

Attached to the note & story was shapes to make pancakes with.

Special Mission

All the stars had gathered, for this was the moment they had been waiting for. The Father of the Heavens had called them together to give them names and assignments. Each was excited, and they chattered nervously among themselves. Finally the moment came, and the heavenly messengers began to line up the stars in a quiet and orderly fashion. One by one the stars approached the Father of the Heaven's podium. He looked down upon them, and gave them a name, and explained the new name's meaning. Then he would assign t hem to constellations, clusters, and moon the universe over. This was a long, slow process, and the waiting stars became anxious.

A few of them crept forward and crowded in line. Others point-bowed (much like elbowed) each other out of line. A clear, shiny, little star stood her ground in line, but she was not very pleased with some of the bigger stars. The she noticed another little star, not quite as bright, standing off to the side crying. "What's wrong, little friend?" asked the little star. "I was in the front of the line, and the big stars pushed and shoved me out of line. Now I will never have a name or an assignment," said the other star. "Well, come get in line with me," said the little star. "Now just a minute!" roared the medium star behind the little star. "No crowding in front of me!" Tears formed in the eyes of the little star's new friend. "It's okay," the little star said. "You take my place, and I'll move to the back of the line." Before her new friend could argue, the little star moved to the very back of the line. As the little star's new friend reached the podium, the little star listened carefully to the assignment that might have been hers. "Your name shall be Gordon, and you are assigned to the great constellation Cassiopeia," announced the Father of the Heavens. "Oh, that could have been me!" exclaimed the little star, but still she patiently awaited her turn at the end of the line.

Finally, the little star's turn came. "You shall be named Crystal-only I will spell that K-r-y-s-t-l-e," said the Father of the Heavens. "You are crystal clear and bright. I have chosen a different spelling of this name, however, because kindness begins with a "k," and I saw the kind deed you performed towards Gordon." The little star-now known as Crystal-glowed with warmth. Further, I know you want to be the brightest star in the Heavens, so I grant you that wish because of your kindness. Unfortunately, however, I have no more constellations to form, and no room in which to place you permanently in the night skies at this time. You will serve a grand mission in the future, but you will have to continue to be patient and wait." Krystle was very disappointed, but she loved her new name and the fact that she was the brightest little star in the Heavens. She knew that someday she would shine over her own country, or maybe even the world, and that she would be splendid. Centuries passed, and one by one the other stars were called upon to fill their missions. The stars who had not yet taken up their permanent residences spent their days playing games such as "shooting stars or asteroid catch." No one like to play shooting stars with Krystle, her brightness blinded them, and they could never catch asteroids, so Krystle always won. Eventually they began sneaking away without her, or not asking her to play at all. Gordon never forgot Krystle's kindness thought, and he stayed and played with her, no matter what. One day while Krystle and Gordon were playing by themselves, a messenger from the Father of the Heavens came and told Gordon it was his time to join the constellation Cassiopeia. Krystle was happy for her friend and glowed brightly for him, but after Gordon left, Krystle was lonely.

Eventually, one by one, all the stars were called to join their new homes, and Krystle was all alone. One day the Father of the Heavens himself came to Krystle and told her it was her time to appear in the night skies above earth, and that it was time for her to glow her very brightest. Her mission was not to shine on a country, but only to shine on a small town, in fact, on the outskirts of one small town. Krystle no longer felt patient or kind. she was angry and did not want to be so bright; she wanted to belong to her own constellation.

As she looked down on the lowly stable, she saw a glow. As she looked closer, the glow became brighter and brighter, and she noticed that it was coming from a small, newborn baby. She then realized what her special mission was, and she glowed with all her might. Even as she glowed, she knew her light was not match for the light the child would give the world. She was so happy. Her mission was to shine light on the Savior of the world, who in turn would shine light on mankind. As she made her own light brighter, she was seen in other countries, on other continents, and she led the wise men and shepherds to see the stable where the baby lay. Soon the baby and his parents had to leave the stable, and Krystle was feeling very lonely again.

The Father of the Heavens came to her and said, "Krystle, you have filled your great mission. Your light has been seen by many and will continue to be seen in the hearts of those who reflect on this night for generations. You will no longer be as visible to hem, shining your light on this table, but you will always be with them. "I have arranged for you to be in a cluster in the center of Cassiopeia. No one can see thee, but with your crystal-clear beauty they will see the whole cluster. Further, I have arranged for you to be dimmer, so your companions will enjoy your beauty. But best of all, you'll be right next to Gordon."

Krystle glowed with happiness. To this day, on a clear night in the northern hemisphere, you can see a small cluster a crystal-clear star glowing in the warmth of Cassiopeia's arms.

On the 8th Day of Christmas

On the 8th day of Christmas, a noel candle we bring, To cheer your heart and light the way, just like our king.

Attached to the note & present was a candle.

The Noel Candle
by Clement C. Moore

It was Christmas Eve in Rheims, France, nearly five hundred years ago. The spires of the great cathedral towered high in the sky over a throng of people who had gathered in a square before the church, celebrating the joyous Noel. Laughing children darted through the crowd as groups of youths and maidens sang carols and danced to the music of a lute and tambourine. Everywhere faces shone with such happiness, it did not seem possible there could be, in all of Rheims, one sad and lonely heart.

Yet there were four. Three of them lived in a squalid old shed by the river. Though its outward appearance was dismal, the inside was neat and clean. Its one room served as living room, dining room, bedroom and kitchen for three people, but the rough stone floor was carefully swept, and the patched covers on the straw mattresses in the corner were spotlessly clean. A rough table, broken chair, stool and rickety bench were the only furniture in the room. In a far corner stood a small charcoal brazier whose weak flame served not only to cook the meals but to warm the hut.

The one touch of beauty in the little room was supplied by a tiny shrine, built on a shelf at the rear wall. A few field flowers in a bowl stood in front of it, and from the shelf hung a heavily embroidered scarlet sash which had once held a knights' shield.

A young woman was bending over a small spinning wheel, a boy of seven was setting the table with their few cracked dishes, and a girl a year or so older was stirring a kettle over the brazier. The lady, whose beauty shone through in spite of her ragged clothing, was Madame la Contesse Marie de Malincourt, and the boy and girl, her son and daughter, Louis and Jeanne.

As she worked, the lady was thinking sadly of Christmas only a year before, when everything had been so different. Then she had lived in a great castle, and as on every Christmas Eve, she and her husband and children had gone down to the castle gate to greet the crowd assembled. The old, the ailing, and the poor would gather there, and the Malincourts would go into the crowd giving to each villager gifts of warm clothing, healing herbs and food. Even Louis and Jeanne would give something from their own toys to the village children.

Then war had swept over their happy valley; the castle had been attacked and robbed. Lady Marie's husband had been led away in chains while she and the children had fled down a secret passageway out in the night and away to the village. She found it deserted, the villagers frightened away by the attackers.

During the months that followed, the three had wandered along the highway trading away their belongings bit by bit in return for food and lodging. Even Lady Mari's coat had gone to the wife of a rich merchant, and the pretty clothing of Louis and Jeanne had been replaced by coarse peasant wear. Only one thing remained of their belongings - the cover of her husband's shield, which little Louis had brought from the castle that dreadful night. "Father gave it to me to keep until he comes back," he said and through all the terrors of their flight he had clung to it. It was dear to all of them, for it was their only reminder of their father and the life they had shared together.

"Mother," said Jeanne suddenly, interrupting her mother's thoughts, "it is Christmas tonight."

"Yes, sighed Lady Maire, "but there will be no toys or sweets for you and little Louis the Noel."

"We don't need them," the children answered. "We have you, Mother, and we can keep Christmas in our heart.

Their mother looked up at them and smiled. "Yes, though life is hard," she said, "we still have each other, and even though we miss your father, I'm sure there are others in Rheims tonight that miss their lived ones also. I just wish we had something to give the poor as we once did..." A thoughtful silence filled the room.

"Mother," Jeanne said excitedly, "I know something we can give." As she talked she picked up the small tallow candle from the table and hurried to one window of the hut.

"See," she went on, "I will put it on the sill and perhaps someone who passes, someone like ourselves, will be happier because of this little gift of light. There - see how it shines out on the snow," and she stood back to survey her work.

"You are a good child, Jeanne," said Lady Marie, then smiling gently, she resumed her work.

Down in the great square, among all the lights and gaiety, was another sad heart. It beat in the breast of a little lad of nine, a boy in ragged clothes whose bare feet were thrust into clumsy wooden clogs. He was utterly alone in the world, without money or friends, cold hungry and miserable. When he tried to tell his story to some of the milling people around him, no one took any interest in him, other than to frown at him or elbow him out of the way.

At last, in utter despair, he began to tramp the streets, stopping now and then to gaze at the splendid houses and to seek help. But there was no welcome in any of them for the poor lonely child.

It was dark in the streets of Rheims now, and the air was growing colder, but the little child trampled on, trying desperately to find shelter before the night closed in. At last, far off down by the river, he saw a tiny gleam of light appear suddenly at a window and he hurried toward it. As he neared it, the boy saw it was only a small tallow candle at the window of a hovel, the poorest hut in all Rheims, but the steady light brought a sudden glow to his heart and he ran forward and knocked at the door.

It was quickly opened by a little girl, and at once two other people had risen to greet him. In another moment he found himself seated on a stool beside the charcoal brazier. The little girl was warming one of his cold hands in her palms, while her brother was holding the other, and a beautiful woman, kneeling at his feet, drew off the wooden shoes and rubbed his icy feet. When he was thoroughly warmed, the little girl dished up into three bowls and a cracked cup the stew which had been simmering on the fire. There was only a little of it, but she passed the fullest bowl to the stranger.

After a word of blessing, they ate their stew, and never had the thick soup tasted so rich and so satisfying. As they finished, a sudden flowing light filled the room, greater than the brightness of a thousand candles. There was a sound of angel voices, and the stranger had grown so radiant they could hardly bear to look at him.

"Thou, with thy little candle, have lighted the Christ child on his way to Heaven," said their guest, his hand on the door latch. "This night your dearest prayer shall be answered," and in another instant he was gone.

The countess and her children fell to their knees and prayed, and there they still were many minutes later when a knight in armor gently pushed open the door and entered the hut.

"Mari! Jeanne! Louis!" he cried in a voice of love. "Don't you know me after all these weary months of prison and barrel? How I have searched for you!"

Immediately his family clustered around him with embraces and kisses.

"But, Father, how did you find us here?" cried little Louis at last.

"A ragged lad I met on the highway told me where you live," answered the knight.

"The Christ child," said Marie reverently, and told him the story.

And so, forever after, they and all their descendants, have burned a candle in the window on the eve of Noel, to light the solitary Christ child on his way.

On the 7th Day of Christmas

On the 7th Day of Christmas, the legends still rings true, The candy cane was made with love just for me and you.

Attached to the note & story was a box of candy canes.

Many years ago, a candy maker wanted to make a candy at Christmas time that would serve as a witness to his Christian faith. He wanted to incorporate several symbols for the birth, ministry and death of Jesus. He began with a stick of pure white hard candy; white to symbolize the Virgin Birth and the sinless nature of Jesus; hard to symbolize the solid rock, the foundation of the Church; firmness to represent the promise of God.

The candy maker made the candy in the form of a "J" to represent the name of Jesus, who came to earth as our Savior. He thought it could also represent the staff of the Good Shepherd, with which he reached down into the ditches of the world to lift out the fallen lambs who, like all sheep, have gone astray.

Thinking that the candy was somewhat plain, the candy maker stained it with red stripes. He used three small stripes to show the stripes of the scourging Jesus received, by which we are healed. The large red stripe was for the blood shed by Christ on the cross so that we could have the promise of eternal life.

Unfortunately, the candy became known as a candy cane - a meaningless decoration seen at Christmas time. But the true meaning is still there for those who have "eyes to see and ears to hear."

On the 6th Day of Christmas

On the 6th Day of Christmas, Rudolph led the way, He found out being different was okay.

Attached to the note & story was a 2-liter of Sprite & a rudolph door hanger.

This is the true story of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer:

On a December night in Chicago, a little girl climbed onto her father's lap and asked a question. It was a simple question, asked in children's curiosity, yet it had a heart-rending effect on Robert May. "Daddy," four-year old Barbara asked, "Why isn't my Mommy just like everybody else's mommy?"

Bob May stole a glance across his shabby two room apartment. On a couch lay his young wife, Evelyn, racked with cancer. For two years she had been bedridden; for two years, all Bob's income and smaller savings had gone to pay for treatments and medicines. The terrible ordeal already had shattered two adult lives. Now Bob suddenly realized the happiness of his growing daughter was also in jeopardy. As he ran his fingers through Barbara's hair, he prayed for some satisfactory answer to her question.

Bob May knew only too well what it meant to be "different." As a child he had been weak and delicate. With the innocent cruelty of children, his playmates had continually goaded the stunted, skinny lad to tears. Later at Dartmouth, from which he was graduated in 1926, Bob May was so small that he was always being mistaken for someone's little brother. Nor was his adult life much happier. Unlike many of his classmates who floated from college into plush jobs, Bob became a lowly copy writer for Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. Now at 33, Bob was deep in debt, depressed and sad. Although Bob did not know it at the time, the answer he gave the tousled haired child on his lap was to bring him to fame and fortune. It was also to bring joy to countless thousands of children like his own Barbara. On that December night in the shabby Chicago apartment, Bob cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began to tell a story.

"Once upon a time there was a reindeer named Rudolph, the only reindeer in the world that had a big red nose. Naturally people called him Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." As Bob went on to tell about Rudolph, he tried desperately to communicate to Barbara the knowledge that, even though some creatures of God are strange and different, they often enjoy the miraculous power to make others happy.Rudolph, Bob explained, was terribly embarrassed by his unique nose. Other reindeer laughed at him; his mother and father and sister were mortified too.Even Rudolph wallowed in self pity. "Well," continued Bob, "one Christmas Eve, Santa Claus got his team of husky reindeer -Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen ready for their yearly trip around the world. The entire reindeer community assembled to cheer these great heroes on their way. But a terrible fog engulfed the earth that evening, and Santa knew that the mist was so thick he wouldn't be able to find any chimney. Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever. Santa sensed at once that here was the answer to his perplexing problem. He led Rudolph to the front of the sleigh, fastened the harness and climbed in. They were off! Rudolph guided Santa safely to every chimney that night. Rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph, for his bright nose penetrated the mist like a beacon. And so it was that Rudolph became the most famous and beloved of all the reindeer. The huge red nose he once hid in shame was now the envy of every buck and doe in the reindeer world. Santa Claus told everyone that Rudolph had saved the day and from that Christmas, Rudolph has been living serenely and happy."

Little Barbara laughed with glee when her father finished. Every night she begged him to repeat the tale until finally Bob could rattle it off in his sleep. Then, at Christmas time he decided to make the story into a poem like "The Night Before Christmas" and prepare it in bookish form illustrated with pictures, for Barbara's personal gift. Night after night, Bob worked on the verses after Barbara had gone to bed for he was determined his daughter should have a worthwhile gift, even though he could not afford to buy one...

Then as Bob was about to put the finishing touches on Rudolph, tragedy struck. Evelyn May died. Bob, his hopes crushed, turned to Barbara as chief comfort. Yet, despite his grief, he sat at his desk in the quiet, now lonely apartment, and worked on "Rudolph" with tears in his eyes.

Shortly after Barbara had cried with joy over his handmade gift on Christmas morning, Bob was asked to an employee's holiday party at Montgomery Wards. He didn't want to go, but his office associates insisted. When Bob finally agreed, he took with him the poem and read it to the crowd. First the noisy throng listened in laughter and gaiety. Then they became silent, and at the end, broke into spontaneous applause. That was in 1938.

By Christmas of 1947, some 6 million copies of the booklet had been given away or sold, making Rudolph one of the most widely distributed books in the world. The demand for Rudolph sponsored products, increased so much in variety and number that educators and historians predicted Rudolph would come to occupy a permanent place in the Christmas legend.

On the 5th Day of Christmas

On the 5th day of Christmas, just sit back and relax, Teach yourself and others the truth the holiday brings and FAST!

Attached to the note & story was bubble bath.

TEACH THE CHILDREN

Last Monday night I had a strange visitor. This is how it happened... I had just finished the household chores for the night and was preparing to go to bed when I heard a noise in the front of the house. I opened the door of the front room, and to my surprise, a special visitor stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. He placed his fingers over his lips so I would not cry out. "What are you doing?" I started to ask, but the words choked up in my throat as I saw that he had tears in his eyes. He then answered me with the simple statement of "Teach the children." I was puzzled. What did he mean? He anticipated my question and with one quick movement, brought a miniature toy bag from behind the tree. As I stood there in my night shirt bewildered, the visitor said again, "Teach the children."

My perplexed expression still showed in the near darkness. "Teach them the old meaning of Christmas --- the meaning that Christmas nowadays has forgotten." I started to say, "How can I?" when the visitor reached into the toy bag and pulled out a brilliant shiny star. "Teach the children the star was the heavenly sign of promise long ago. God promised a Savior for the world and a sign of the fulfillment of his promise. The countless shining stars at night --- one for each man --- now show the burning hope of all mankind." The visitor gently laid the star upon the fireplace mantle and drew forth from the bag a glittering red Christmas ornament. "Teach the children red is the first color of Christmas. It was first used by the faithful people to remind them of the blood which was shed for all people by the Savior. Christ gave his life and shed his blood that every man might have God's gift to all-eternal life. Red is deep, intense, vivid --- it is the greatest color of all. It is the symbol of the gift of God."

As the visitor was twisting and pulling another object out of his bag, I heard the kitchen clock begin to strike twelve. I wanted to say something but he went right on. "Teach the children," he said, as the twisting and pulling suddenly dislodged a small Christmas tree from the depths of the toy bag. He placed it before the mantel and gently hung the red ornament. Here was the second color of Christmas. "The pure color of the stately fir tree remains green all year round," he said. "This depicts the everlasting hope of mankind. Green is the youthful, hopeful, abundant color of nature. All the needles point heavenward --- symbolic of man's returning thoughts toward heaven. The great, green tree has been man's best friend. It has sheltered him, warmed him, made beauty for him, formed his furniture." The visitor's eyes were beginning to twinkle now as he stood there.

Suddenly I heard a soft tinkling sound. As it grew louder, it seemed like the sound of long ago. "Teach the children, that as the lost sheep are found by the sound of the bell, so should it ring for man to return to the fold --- it means guidance and return. It further signifies that all are precious in the eyes of the Lord. Who is there among you if his son asks for bread would give him a stone?" As the soft sharp sound of the bell faded into the night, the visitor drew forth a candle. He placed it on the mantle and the soft glow from its tiny flame cast an eerie glow about the darkened room. Odd shapes in the room slowly danced and weaved upon the walls. "Teach the children," whispered the visitor, "that the candle shows man's thanks for the star of long ago; it's small light is the mirror of the star light." "At first candles were placed on the Christmas tree --- they were like many glowing stars shining against the dark green. Safety now has removed the candles from the tree and the colored lights have taken over in that remembrance." The visitor now had turned the small Christmas tree lights on and picked up a gift from under the tree.

He pointed to the large bow ribbon and said, "A bow is placed on a present to remind us of the spirit of the brotherhood of man. We should remember that the bow is tied as man should be tied --- all of us together, with the bonds of good will toward each other. Good will forever is the message of the bow." Now my mind began to wonder what else the visitor might have in his bag. Instead of reaching in his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and began to reach up on the Christmas tree. I thought he was hungry as he reached for a candy cane purposely placed high on the tree. He unfastened it and reached out toward me with it. "Teach the children that the candy cane represents the shepherd's crook. The crook on the staff helps bring back the strayed sheep of the fold. The candy cane is the symbol that we are our brother's keepers." The visitor then paused. He seemed to realize that he should be on his way. As he looked about the room a feeling of satisfaction shined on his face. He read wonderment in my eyes and I am sure he sensed my admiration for this night. He was his old self as he approached the front door. The twinkle in his eyes gave the visitor away. I knew he wasn't through yet.

He reached into his bag and brought forth a large holly wreath. He placed it at the door and said, "Please teach the children the wreath symbolizes the eternal nature of love; it never ceases, stops, or ends. It is one continuous round of affection." "The wreath does double duty. It is made of many things and in many colors. It should remind us of many things of Christmas." "Please teach the children." I pondered and wondered and thrilled with delight as I sat and viewed all those symbols that night. And my thoughts were of the visitor and all he made right. To give and to help, to love and to serve, are the best things of life, all men can deserve. Jesus the Christ Child as small as an elf, is the very best symbol of Christmas itself. He's the sign of the gift of love and of life, the ending of evil, the ceasing of strife. The message to me on this pre-Christmas night has opened a treasure of deepest insight. The one thing on earth we all ought to do, is the teaching of children the right and the true. "Please teach the children."

On the 4th Day of Christmas

On the 4th day of Christmas, some chocolate coins you see, With a story to remind you of the giving way to be.

Attached to the note & gift were some chocolate coins.

THE CHRISTMAS WE GAVE AWAY
by Margaret Ellsworth Swinyard

The Christmas I remember best began with tragedy. It happened at 6 am on one of those crisp Idaho Falls mornings the day before Christmas. Our neighbors, the Jesse Smith family, slept peacefully in their two-story home. The baby, barely six months old, was in a crib next to her parents' room, and the three older children were upstairs.

Suddenly something jarred Jesse from his sleep. He though he smelled smoke. Could a spark from the torch he'd defrosted the frozen water pipes with the day before have started a fire in the basement? Still half asleep, he stumbled to the bedroom door and flung it open. Clouds of black smoke poured into the room. "Lorraine!" he yelled. "Get the baby!" He ran toward the stairs and his sleeping children. The smoke was thicker as he gasped for breath. "Rick! Tom! Wake up!" The boys scrambled out of their beds. "Run, boys!" Tom grabbed his younger brother's hand, and they raced down the smoke-filled stairway to safety. His daughter's room was next. As Jesse groped through the heavy shroud of gray, he called, "Cindy! Cindy! Where are you?"

"Here, Daddy, here!" He followed the frightened cries, scooped up his daughter in his arms, and with his hand over her face, felt his way out the room and down through a narrow path of searing flames. They coughed, choked, gasped for breath, until they at last stumbled out the door where a relieved wife and three children stood shivering in the snow.

Now the family looked to the smoke and flames pouring out the roof of their home, the home that the night before had held all their earthly treasures. It had also held a promise of Christmas, mulled cider, homemade candy, and stockings waiting to be filled. They stood huddled in their nightclothes, barefoot in the biting cold, and watched their Christmas burn up along with their house.

The spell was broken by the sound of sirens piercing the icy air. Firemen leaped from the huge red trucks and turned their powerful hoses on the blaze. Seconds later, the bishop of the Smiths' ware drove up, bundled the family into his car, and took them to a home the ward elder's quorum had just completed as a fund-raising project. They were not to witness the fire men's hopeless battle with the flames. For when the trucks finally pulled away, this time in silence, nothing stood of their house but its charred skeleton outlined against the sky.

And tomorrow was Christmas. At our house, we were putting the last secret wrappings on the presents, making the last batch of popcorn for popcorn balls to go in our Christmas stockings. We three children were attempting dubious harmony with our favorite carols and breaking into giggles at the results.

Then Dad came in with the news. We sat with serious faces listening to him tell of the fire, the narrow escape, the house where the Smiths were spending Christmas Eve.

"Why?," Mother said. "Why did this happen, just at Christmas? It isn't fair. They had children, just the sames ages as ours," she said. Jesse and Dad were the closes friends; they even joke that they were so close they wore the same size shirt. The same size shirt! "Bill," Mother began hesitantly, "Would you mind terribly if we gave Jesse one of the shirts I bought you for Christmas? You wear the same size..." A hush fell on us all, We all seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. "I've got it!" my ten-year-old brother shouted. "We'll give the Smiths a Christmas! A Christmas for Christmas!" "Where could we get one?" my inquisitive little sister asked. "We'll give them outs," the others chorused in.

"Of course! We'll give them ours!" The house rang with excited voices, until Dad's stern command silenced us. "Hold it! Let's make sure we all want to do this. Let's take a vote. All in favor say aye."

"AYE!" chorused back at him. "All opposed?" was met with silence.

The hours that followed are ones we will never forget. First we sat around the tree and handed out presents. Instead of opening them, the giver would divulge their contents so the label could be changed to the appropriate Smith family member. My heart fell when Dad handed Kevin a box wrapped in gold foil and green ribbon. "It's a baseball glove, son," Dad told him, and a flash of disappointment crossed Kevin's face. I knew how he'd longed for that glove, and Dad wanted to say, "You keep it, son," but Kevin smiled as if he'd read our thoughts. "Thanks, Dad. It's just what Stan wanted, too," he replied.

"Look, here's the recipe holder I made for you, that is, for Sister Smith." We signed all the tags "from Santa" and the activity that followed would have put his workshop elves to shame.

They had presents but what about a Christmas dinner? The turkey was cooked, pies baked, the carrots and celery prepared, and then all packed in a box. The Christmas stockings must be stuffed. Dad got a length of clotheslines and some clothespins to hand the stocks with, but what about a tree? We looked at ours. Could we really part with it? "I know," Dad volunteered. "Let's decorate it with things they'll need." And so more things were added to the tree: a tube of toothpaste tied with red ribbon, a razor, comb bars of soap nestled in the branches. Finally it was all ready.

It was a strange procession that silently paraded through the dark streets of Idaho Falls that night. Father led the way carrying a fully decorated tree. Mother followed with a complete Christmas dinner, down to the last dish of cranberry sauce. The tree of us children pulled wagons and a sled piled with boxes of gifts. We waited until the last light was out in the Smiths' borrowed home and then Mom and Dad stealthily carried each item in the door. When the last stocking had been hung, we turned again toward home.

All the way home I worried about what waited for my family at our home. What if the others were disappointed? All that was left were a few pine needles and paper scraps. I couldn't have been more wrong. The minute we were back inside we were more excited than ever. Every pine needle and paper scrap was a reminder of the magic of the evening, and we hadn't taken that to the Smiths. It was in our home as real as if you could see it. A happier family never went to be on a Christmas Eve, and the next morning the magic was still there. For our celebration we wrote a promise to each person on a card and presented it around a spruce branch tied in a red ribbon.

"One shoe shine. To Father. Love Kevin." "This is good for two turns doing the evening dishes. Love your husband Bill." And so it went.

Our Christmas dinner consisted of scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and sliced oranges. Somehow, I don't remember a better one. And I know we sang our carols that night with the same unconventional harmony, but it sounded sweeter than angels to me.

"Oh, Mommy," said my small sister as she snuggled up for her bedtime Christmas story, "I like to give Christmases away." Tears blurred the book in my mother's hands, because she knew that none of us would ever forget this Christmas, the one when we gave our best gift. And as she read the story of the Baby born in a manger, it seemed our gift was but a small tribute to Him who gave his best gift, His son to us.

On the 3rd Day of Christmas

On the 3rd day of Christmas, some hot cocoa mix we bring to you, With a story of 3 trees, you see, with dreams that eventually came true.

Attached to the gift & story was a mug with candies with hot chocolate.

THREE TREES

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."

Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull." Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."

After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest. At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship. When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down."

When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams. Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.

Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat. Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.

The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

On the 2nd Day of Christmas

On the 2nd day of Christmas, this story will warm your soul, The pair of gloves should do the same wherever you should go.

The gift attached to the note & story was 2 pairs of gloves.

CHRISTMAS SHOES

It was only five days before Christmas. The spirit of the season hadn't yet caught up with me, even though cars packed the parking lot of our Houston area Target Shopping Center. Inside the store, it was worse. Shopping carts and last minute shoppers jammed the aisles. Why did I come today? I wondered. My feet ached almost as much as my head. My list contained names of several people who claimed they wanted nothing but I knew their feelings would be hurt if I didn't buy them anything. Buying for someone who had everything and deploring the high cost of items, I considered gift buying anything but fun. Hurriedly, I filled my shopping cart with last minute items and proceeded to the long checkout lines. I picked the shortest but it looked as if it would mean at least a 20 minute wait.

In front of me were two small children - a boy of about 10 and a younger girl about 5. The boy wore a ragged coat. Enormously large, tattered tennis shoes jutted far out in front of his much too short jeans. He clutched several crumpled dollar bills in his grimy hands. The girl's clothing resembled her brother's. Her head was a matted mass of curly hair. Reminders of an evening meal showed on her small face. She carried a beautiful pair of shiny, gold house slippers. As the Christmas music sounded in the store's stereo system, the girl hummed along off-key but happily. When we finally approached the checkout register, the girl carefully placed the shoes on the counter. She treated them as though they were a treasure. The clerk ran up the bill. "That will be $6.09," she said. The boy laid his crumpled dollars atop the stand while he searched his pockets. He finally came up with $3.12. "I guess we will have to put them back," he bravely said. "We will come back some other time, maybe tomorrow." With that statement, a soft sob broke from the little girl. "But Jesus would have loved these shoes," she cried. "Well, we'll go home and work some more. Don't cry . We'll come back," he said.

Quickly, I handed $3.00 to the cashier. These children had waited in line for a long time. And, after all, it was Christmas. Suddenly a pair of arms came around me and a small voice said, "Thank you Sir." "What did you mean when you said Jesus would like the shoes?" I asked. The small boy answered, "Our mommy is sick and going to heaven. Daddy said she might go before Christmas to be with Jesus." The girl spoke, "My Sunday school teacher said the streets in heaven are shiny gold, just like these shoes. Won't mommy be beautiful walking on those streets to match these shoes?" My eyes flooded as I looked into her tear-streaked face. "Yes" I answered, "I am sure she will." Silently I thanked God for using these children to remind me of the true spirit of giving. Christmas is not about the amount of money paid, nor the amount of gifts purchased, nor trying to impress friends and relatives. Christmas is about the love in your heart to share with those as Jesus Christ has shared with each of us. Christmas is about the birth of Jesus whom God sent to show the world how much he really loves us.

* Author unknown

On the 1st Day of Christmas

On the 1st day of Christmas, a gift, a piece of fruit. We hope you enjoy the message and find it rather cute! The present attached to this was a chocolate orange (& milk chocolate-my personal favorite!)

The Christmas Orange

Sometimes it is easy to forget the true meaning of Christmas. The busy traditions of the season and the appealing advertisements for material goods can leave the pure and simple truths far, far behind. Jake was nine years old with tousled brown hair with blue eyes as bright as a heavenly angel. For as long as Jake could remember he had lived within the walls of a poor orphanage. He was just one of ten children supported by what meager contributions the orphan home could obtain in a continuous struggle seeking donations from townsfolk.

There was very little to eat, but at Christmas time there always seemed to be a little more than usual to eat, the orphanage seemed a little warmer, and it was time for a little holiday enjoyment. But more than this, there was the Christmas orange!

Christmas was the only time of year that such a rare treat was provided and it was treasured by each child like no other food admiring it, feeling it, prizing it and slowly enjoying each juicy section. Truly, it was the light of each orphan's Christmas and their best gift of the season. How joyful would be the moment when Jake received his orange!

Unknown to him, Jake had somehow managed to track a small amount of mud on his shoes through the front door of the orphanage, muddying the new carpet. He hadn't even noticed. Now it was too late and there was nothing he could do to avoid punishment. The punishment was swift and unrelenting. Jake would not be allowed his Christmas orange! It was the only gift he would receive from the harsh world he lived in, yet after a year of waiting for his Christmas orange, is was to be denied him.

Tearfully, Jake pleaded that he be forgiven and promised never to track mud into the orphanage again, but to no avail. He felt hopeless and totally rejected. Jake cried into his pillow all that night and spent Christmas Day feeling empty and alone. He felt that the other children didn't want to be with a boy who had been punished with such a cruel punishment. Perhaps they feared he would ruin their only day of happiness. Maybe, he reasoned, the gulf between him and his friends existed because they feared he would ask for a little of their oranges. Jake spent the day upstairs, alone, in the unheated dormitory. Huddled under his only blanket, he read about a family marooned on an island. Jake wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life on an isolated island, if he could only have a real family that cared about him.

Bedtime came, and worst of all, Jake couldn't sleep. How could he say his prayers? How could there be a God in Heaven that would allow a little soul such as his, to suffer so much all by himself? Silently, he sobbed for the future of mankind that God might end the suffering in the world, both for himself and all others like him.

As he climbed back into bed from the cold, hard floor, a soft hand touched Jake's shoulder, startling him momentarily and an object was silently placed in his hands. The giver disappeared into the darkness, leaving Jake with what, he did not immediately know!

Looking closely at it in the dim light, he saw that it looked like an orange! Not a regular orange, smooth and shiny, but a special orange, very special. Inside a patched together peal were the segments of nine other oranges, making one whole orange for Jake! The nine other children in the orphanage had each donated one segment of their own precious oranges to make a whole orange as a gift for Jake.

Sharing what we truly value is the true spirit of Christmas. Our Heavenly Father gave us His beloved Son. May we, like the children in the orphanage, find ways to share His love with others less blessed.

Sweet Acts of Service

We recently were the recipients of two sweet acts of service. The first was this homemade gingerbread house made by my next door neighbor, Jessie. Every year she makes homemade gingerbread houses and donates them to the Festival of the Trees. She made a few extra this year and gave one to us. So thoughtful & kind of you Jessie!

The second is the 12 days of Christmas. Someone anonymously left a huge gift bag full of wrapped presents and stories for each of the 12 days of Christmas with this note on it:

This is your 12 Days of Christmas Gift Bag

We wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, too. We hope this will bring fun and laughter all the season through.

Each day you read a new story attached to a gift, We hope you enjoy the spirit and the treat is sure to give you a lift.

For 12 days you will do your part, during this holiday season, We've been thoughtful in preparing and hope you know the reason.

The truth of this delivery is letting you know we care, We love and cherish you...our friends and hope you know we will always be there.

Of all the blessing great and small we want you to remember. The one given that Holy night we celebrate in December.

The kids were SO excited to receive this and we have thoroughly enjoyed each thoughtful gift and heartfelt Christmas story. If this was given to us by someone who reads my blog, THANK YOU! THANK YOU! We have loved reading each Christmas story and the Christmas spirit that has been in our house this holiday season. I thought this would be a fun idea to "pass forward" to my few readers in the blogosphere. I will post each one of the 12 stories for you to share with your families. We've been reading each Christmas story before the kids go to bed. It's been fun to look forward to!