Friday, December 24, 2010

The Littlest Angel


A very long time ago, long before anybody on earth today was born, there was no Christmas season -- no gaily decorated Christmas trees, no yuletide gift-giving, no carolers singing on a snowy December night. That’s because it was a time before the birth of Jesus in a lowly stable in Bethlehem.

There was such a thing as Heaven, of course, the home of glorious angels who sailed the skies on beautiful white-feathered wings. They wore long, flowing white gowns, and their golden hair fell in waves and curls down their backs.

They were tall and strong and swift -- all except the Littlest Angel, who was tiny, with short, curly blonde locks. She had just got her wings and was only now learning to fly. One day, Archangel Gabriel made an important announcement. “Tonight,” declared Gabriel in a ringing voice, “we fly to earth to honor the birth of the Prince of Peace! We will sing hymns throughout the world, giving tidings of great joy!”

The Littlest Angel jumped up and down with excitement. Tonight was the night she had heard so much about! For weeks, the big angels had been planning a splendid celebration. Would she be allowed to go along? The Littlest Angel’s singing voice was still weak, but she had a worse problem: She couldn’t fly as fast as the others. It did not look promising

“Unless I get a head start,” she thought, and this cheered her up. “If I go now, I’ll be in Bethlehem before the others get there. Won’t they be surprised to see me!”

At that moment, the Littlest Angel happened to be strolling beside Heaven’s crystal sea. On the shore grew thousands of starflowers with their golden centers and five pearl-white petals. Starflowers were valued on earth as a sign of hope and would surely make a lovely gift for the newborn infant. So the Littlest Angel gathered a bunch and stuck them inside the sash of her robe.

It was time to test her wings in a way they’d never been tested before. The Littlest Angel climbed atop the highest cloud, then jumped! Miraculously, her baby wings spread wide, and the Littlest Angel glided in the bright air. Now the wings began to beat, and she aimed for planet Earth down below.

When the Littlest Angel landed, she looked around. Where did Bethlehem lie? The sun was setting, and there was no one in sight. But then in the distance she saw a village with houses of mud brick and stone, so she headed down the dirt road toward it.

On the way, the Littlest Angel heard a pitiful sound from a nearby olive tree. A mother dove was cooing sadly from a high branch. Below, her baby, which had fallen from its nest, was struggling to fly but with no success. It was too young. The Littlest Angel picked up the birdling.



“You poor thing,” she said. Up the Littlest Angel flew and settled the little dove gently in the nest. The mother thanked her with all her heart. A starflower fell from the Littlest Angel’s sash and landed where the dove had fallen. Suddenly, a bell rang out through the winter evening.

The Littlest Angel came to a one-room hut and peered inside a window. There sat a careworn young mother watching over her little son, who slept fitfully in a cradle. The Littlest Angel could see the child’s skin was hot and damp, and tendrils of hair clung to his cheeks and forehead. The mother rocked the cradle and wept softly to herself.


The child opened his feverish eyes and smiled as the Littlest Angel tiptoed in. The angel laid a cool hand on the boy’s forehead, and the fever went away instantly. Soon the child closed its eyes and slept soundly.

As the Littlest Angel walked back through the door, a few starflowers fell from her sash, and a second bell rang out. It had grown dark, so she left the village and continued down the road. The Littlest Angel’s wings ached too much to fly. She had no idea where she was headed, and she was so tired that she almost forgot why she had visited earth in the first place.

She was lost, too. Where was Bethlehem? The Littlest Angel seemed no nearer to the end of her journey than when she began, and she now had only a single starflower left. This troubled her. “What will happen if I lose this, too?” she thought. “I’ll have nothing to give Jesus.”

As if to make matters worse, the Littlest Angel stubbed her toe on a stone in the road. She hopped around, holding her injured foot. Suddenly overhead, a host of angels flew past, singing “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will!” “Oh, no!” cried the Littlest Angel. “I’m too late!”



A short time later, the Littlest Angel heard the sound of bleating nearby. In the bushes beside the road lay a little lamb that had broken its foreleg. She took pity on the suffering creature and gathered it up in her arms. “Come with me to Bethlehem,” said the angel, “that is, if I can ever find it!” The last starflower slipped unnoticed from her sash and fell in the dirt road. A third bell rang out through the night.

The Littlest Angel carried her pitiful burden down the road, and it seemed to get heavier and heavier. Her arms and legs were sore with fatigue. At the moment that she thought she might have to stop and rest, the Littlest Angel glimpsed light shining from far off. The closer it got, the more it seemed to be coming from a stable. “Well stop there,” whispered the Littlest Angel, for the lamb had fallen asleep in her arms.

When the angel and her little lamb got within a short distance of the stable, they were greeted by the most amazing sights and sounds. On the ground, several people had gathered. They were mostly poor and humble, but three men bearing costly gifts rode camels and were dressed in rich robes.



The people were oddly quiet, but every now and then the Littlest Angel heard hushed words being spoken in strange languages. Overhead in the velvet darkness flew scores of angels in a fiery blaze of light. Some were singing hymns, while others played shiny brass horns.

High above shone a single star, brighter and steadier than any the Littlest Angel had ever seen The Littlest Angel walked through the stable’s bright doorway and was so astonished by what she saw that she nearly dropped the lamb.

There, in the straw, sat a pale but beautiful young woman holding a newborn infant in her arms. A bearded man wearing robes dusty from travel looked on. The Littlest Angel knew at once that she was in the presence of Jesus and his parents, Mary and Joseph. She laid the lamb in the straw and reached for her last starflower, but it wasn’t there!



Mary smiled lovingly on the Littlest Angel. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said sweetly, “but you have brought a far greater gift -- a creature in need.” The baby Jesus reached out and, with his dimpled hand, touched the lamb’s broken leg. Instantly the animal leaped up and frisked about.

“Not only that,” added Mary, “but your good deeds have caused the Chime of Love to ring out three times tonight. Because of this, I ask that you visit every year and bring this music to people of good will.”

The Littlest Angel was overjoyed. Such an important responsibility for one so little! She flew back to Heaven in a burst of speed. And every Christmas, you’ll hear this magical bell ring out - that is, if you’ve been kind and good throughout the year!


Credits: Publications International, Ltd

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Snowflakes Of Love




On this day, snowy day
Let me thank you for the joy you're giving me...
I'm so happy...
I have snowflakes of love smiling down on me
winter bliss when we kiss
Every wish my lips could see
I'm so happy...
I have snowflakes of love smiling down on me

Snowy day
Would you please take me away
Away with you...
Hold me so closely
Like the moonlight lights the sky...

In my dreams of soft winter breeze
Eases my mind, but when I wake
there's nothing but leaves
Still, I'm happy...
I have snowflakes of love smiling down on me

Oh, how I imagine the day we met
And those tingles from those little butterflies...
Reminiscing, I get so happy
I just break down and cry

Candlelight burning bright
Underneath a cool, starry night
You and me, endlessly, it's the greatest gift
that love could give to me

On this day, snowy day
Let me thank you for the joy you've given to me...
I'm so happy...
To have snowflakes of love smiling down on me.

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Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Miss You Most At Christmas Time




The fire is burning
The room's all aglow
Outside the December wind blows
Away in the distance the carolers sing in the snow
Everybody's laughing
The world is celebrating
And everyone's so happy
Except for me tonight

Because I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right
But then I miss you, most at Christmas time

I gaze out the window
This cold winter's night
At all of the twinkling lights
Alone in the darkness
Remembering when you were mine
Everybody's smiling
The whole world is rejoicing
And everyone's embracing
Except for you and I

Baby I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right
But then I miss you, most at Christmas time

In the springtime those memories start to fade
With the April rain
Through the summer days
Till autumn's leaves are gone
I get by without you
Till the snow begins to fall

And then I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right...
But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.

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Christmas on an Island

The Little Drummer Boy (song)




Come they told me
Pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see
Pa rum pum pum pum

Our finest gifts we bring
Pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the kIng
Pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum

So to honor Him
Pa rum pum pum pum
When we come

Little baby
Pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too
Pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring
Pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give our King
Pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum

Shall I play for you
Pa rum pum pum pum
On my drum

Mary nodded
Pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him
Pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum

The He smiled at me
Pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum
.

The Little Drummer Boy

David grew up in the kitchen of the inn. His father was the innkeeper. His mother cooked the food. David's older sisters cleaned the rooms, and his older brother swept the stable. David loved to sing. He would sing to his mother as she cooked the food. David made up songs and banged on pots and bowls as he sang to her. David's mother smiled at him. "Someday you will sing in the temple, my son," his mother said. David grinned at his mother. "Tem-ple," David said very carefully.

David's father came into the kitchen. "How is my big boy?" David's father asked as he swung David onto his shoulders. "Pum Pum Pum! Tem-ple come!" David sang as he drummed on his father's head with a wooden spoon. David's father smiled as his son kept on drumming. "We must find this boy a drum or my poor head will not survive!" said David's father, with a laugh.

A few years later David got a small drum for his birthday. Soon he was beating rhythms on his drum wherever he went. Pat-a-rum, pat-a-rum, pat-a-rum, David drummed to copy the donkeys on the road. Swish-click-click-tum, swish-click-click-tum, went David's drumming to copy his brother sweeping straw in the stable.

One day David's father said to his family, "We are going to be very busy. Caesar Augustus has ordered a count of all the families in all the towns." "Pum Pum. Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum. I counted six of us!" David sang. "Why does this make us busy?" "Because people will come to Bethlehem to be counted with their families," said David's father. "They will need a place to stay. They will stay with us, and we will be very busy."

David's mother cooked more food. David's sisters cleaned the rooms. David's brother swept out the stable and put new hay and pots of water in the stalls. David's father greeted the people as they came into town. Soon the inn was very full. David played his drum and sang his songs for the people.

Late one night there was a knock at the door. David peeked around his father at the young man and his wife, who was on a donkey. They had no room for these people! What could they do? David's father was a kind man. "You can stay in the stable," he said. "It is warm and dry there. I can send food out to you." The young man thanked David's father and walked the donkey to the stable.

David helped his mother carry bread and cheese out to the young couple. His mother told him the woman was going to have a baby soon. The next day there was a lot of excitement. "The young woman who stayed in the stable last night had her baby," David's mother told him. "The baby is the King of Kings, they say!" said David's father.

David could not see the baby because of the crowd around the stable. David stood at the back of the crowd and began to make up a song for the baby: "Come, they told me, our newborn king to see. Our finest gifts we bring to lay before the king. So to honor him when we come."

The crowd began to part when they heard David's beautiful singing: "Baby Jesus, I am a poor boy, too. I have no gift to bring that's fit to give a king. Shall I play for you on my drum?"

David stepped closer to Mary, Joseph, and their son. Baby Jesus smiled at David, reached out, and patted his drum.

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Santa's Letter

Christmas was coming. Jamie and Ted had already begun to write long letters to Santa Claus. But one thing was rather queer: both boys asked him for the same things.

Each little letter ended with – “Just like Brother’s.”

They agreed to ask for only one sled. They would rather ride together. Now was not this very sweet and loving?

One night, after they had gone to bed, Jamie said, “Ted, if Santa Claus brings us skates, Jim can teach us how to use them.”

“Oh, yes; and if we get fur mittens it will be such fun to make a fort.”

“And a snowman,” Jamie answered.

Ted went oh: “I’ll always ride the sled down a hill, and you can ride it up.”

“I guess you won’t,” Jamie said, speaking loudly.

“Why not?” Ted asked.

“Because it’ll be as much my sled as yours.”

“Yes, of course,” Ted replied; “but I chose it first.”

“You are a selfish boy!” said Jamie.

“Well, then, so are you!”

“I don’t care. I won’t sleep with you. I’ll ask mamma if I can’t have the first pick; I’m the biggest,” roared Jamie, bounding out of bed.

“You’re a big, cross cry baby,” Ted shouted, jumping out after his brother.

Away ran Jamie to mamma, with Ted at his heels. Both were angry. Both talked at once.

Mamma was grieved. Her dear little boys had never been so unkind to each other before. She kissed their hot faces and stroked their pretty hair. She told them how their naughty words hurt her. She showed them how displeased God was to see two little brothers quarrel.

That night they went to sleep in each other’s arms, full of love and forgiveness.

Christmas morning came at last. Very early the boys crept out of bed, just to “feel” their stockings.

Papa heard them, and, remembering that he was once a boy lighted the gas.

Each little red stocking was full from toe to top. Boxes and paper parcels were piled around them. Such shouting! Such a good time! It seemed as if all their letters had been answered.

Suddenly Jamie cried, “O Ted, here’s a letter!”

They put their little heads together, and with papa’s help spelled this out:

“My dear Boys,—No sled this year. It quarrelled so I was afraid to bring it. I dropped it off the load about a week ago. Get ready for it next year. Merry Christmas! ” SANTA CLAUS

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Be My Christmas Gift

If you sat beneath the Christmas tree,
You’d sure add to the d├ęcor,
But even if you were gift wrapped, dear,
I couldn't love you more.

You have to know that if I had you,
I’d have the gift I’d most adore,
Better than any expensive gift
I could purchase in a store.

If you hug me tight, you wonderful thing,
And be my Christmas gift,
You’ll brighten my days forevermore
And give my heart a lift.

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Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Christmas Love

At Christmastime I think of all the gifts
That bring me great delight and sweet surprise,
But nothing in this world can bring such joy
As you do, when you look into my eyes.

And when I contemplate what Christmas means,
The caring and the giving-I confess,
You've given me the things I want the most:
Your love, your touch, your kiss, your warm caress.

The Christmas tree reminds me, with its lights
That just the thought of you sets me aglow;
You light me up from deep within my heart,
Because I cherish you, and love you so.

With you it's Christmas all the time, sweetheart.
I treasure every hour and every minute.
Your love is all I'll ever want because,
My life is so fulfilling with you in it.

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A Warm Wool Blanket

Story written by Cathy Richards

At the age of 82, my mother went to heaven on May 22 of this year. For all my 47 years, I spent Christmas with Mom back in our hometown in upstate New York, even the last nine while I’ve been a California resident. This first Christmas without her will be a sad one, but one made more tender by a loving act of kindness.

Yesterday I got a slip in my mailbox to pick up a package at the post office. From the zip code listed, I thought the parcel was from a particular friend who lives near my hometown. Was I surprised to find that it was actually from the manager of the senior citizens’ apartment complex where my mother had lived. He had been very kind to us during my mother’s illness, and here was an unexpected present from him and his wife, whom I had met only once.

Of all the thoughtful gestures extended to me immediately following my mother’s death, theirs had really touched me. When I opened by mother’s apartment and invited her neighbors in to see if there was anything they wanted, the manager’s wife came. It is the only time I’ve ever seen her. She picked up a few things that day and told me to stop by for dinner if I was ever back in the area.

A couple days later, when I was leaving Mom’s apartment for the last time, the manager came out to my car to hug me, and he told me that one of the things his wife picked up was an angel ornament my mother had. Instead of using the ornament at their home, they decided that each year they would put the angel on the Christmas tree in the rec room of the apartment complex to remember my mother. The thought was so sweet that I burst into tears on the sidewalk.

Well… I opened their package this morning and first read the card. It says Mom’s angel ornament has a special place near the top of the rec room’s tree. That was enough to start the tears. But then they explained that the present was a stuffed gingerbread man that the wife made by hand and that the material used to make the gingerbread man’s scarf and sack came from my mother’s blanket — another item selected by the wife after Mom’s passing. My eyes were flooded with tears as I opened this precious gift and saw the familiar green and white striped blanket.

It was an incredibly durable wool blanket that we had since I was a kid. It is the one and only blanket I specifically remember because of the stripes. And… when my ill mother was going through repeated, alternating periods of high fevers and chills in April and May of this year, she asked me to dig that blanket out of the closet. Even though she was piled high with sheets, blankets, and comforters, she was convinced that ultra-warm wool blanket would stop the extreme and intense chills.

Without knowing the significance of that particular wool blanket, how totally lovely and appropriate that a “stranger” picked that material to make me something so special for this first Christmas. I can’t wait to tell her how much warmth has been provided by her thoughtfulness and those familiar green and white stripes.

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Christmas is here again

As welcoming lights pierce the night
Up and down the streets of our town,
Bringing on the Christmas season
A serene vision of that holy night of long ago
Covers the land.

Alluring streetlamps
Are welcome mats
That pave walkways in the glow of
White falling from the sky.

It glistens
And glimmers.
Snowflakes, in the future,
Enjoyed by children at play.

And visitors cozy-up
To homes of families and friends
As the holidays began;
To celebrate this Holy Day;
The Birth of Our Savior.

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Monday, December 20, 2010

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas




It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev'rywhere you go;
Take a look in the five-and-ten, glistening once again
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas,
Toys in ev'ry store,
But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
On your own front door.

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots
Is the wish of Barney and Ben;
Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk
Is the hope of Janice and Jen;
And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Ev'rywhere you go;
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well,
The sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;
Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.

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The night before Christmas - Technical Version

You will appreciate (and understand) this only if you are a technical person. If you have learned few high frequency words during your SAT preparations, you may be able to digest some of it.  For others, it will fly over your head.  Anyway, give it a try.

‘Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself – thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen – “Now Dasher, now Dancer…” et al. – guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved – with utmost celerity and via a downward leap – entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion’s floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: “Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn.”

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The Overeating elf


Once there was an elf named Frez that would get so nervous during Christmas time that he would eat two lunches at the elf cafeteria. He tried to be just too perfect in toymaking and never thought they were good enough for the children. The dolls’ eyes never sparkled enough, thought Frez, and the wagons were not as shinny as last year. Nothing seemed to be going right and the time for delivery of the presents was getting closer.

It was beyond anybody’s understanding why Frez was getting so particular and asking for an elf suit larger than his size. Then, one day Santa found out what the problem was and decided to solve it. It seemed that Frez was not a young elf, but elves never looked their age by the virtue of being ever cheerful and happy. Frez needed to feel he was special, so Santa assigned him his own project called “special toys.” These were the toys that were broken and needed to be repaired with love. Frez was so glad to be in charge of such a project that he had only one lunch that day because he had to hurry back to his tasks.

There is a lesson to be learnt from what Santa did for the elf. Sometimes we have off days when we just don’t feel positive. Someone’s smile or invitation to join some friends can make our whole day worthwhile.

Frez is now content with assembling the broken toys and transform them into something new, and he has stopped being a voracious eater that he once used to be because he is happy. He even wears his old suit now, and his new suit is taken in for his smaller waist.

Its wise for us to try and do something worthwhile everyday so that a “Frez Attack” will never get us. We all have special talents and potentials and we can definitely help someone out if he is feeling a bit low. It takes only a few seconds to be able to know why someone is not feeling happy. Take out that time from your usual day and listen. Most importantly, we are here to help each other and all of us have that hidden talent to do it. Start to make use of that talent today.

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Sunday, December 19, 2010

Grown Up Christmas List




Do you remember me
I sat upon your knee
I wrote to you
With childhood fantasies

Well, I'm all grown up now
And still need help somehow
I'm not a child
But my heart still can dream

So here's my lifelong wish
My grown up Christmas list
Not for myself
But for a world in need

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown up Christmas list

As children we believed
The grandest sight to see
Was something lovely
Wrapped beneath our tree

Well heaven only knows
That packages and bows
Can never heal
A hurting human soul

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown up Christmas list

What is this illusion called the innocence of youth
Maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth
(there'd be)

No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
And everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end, oh
This is my grown up Christmas list

This is my grown up Christmas list.

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Now I understand


The old story is told about a man who looked upon Christmas as a lot of humbug. He wasn’t a Scrooge. He was a very kind and decent person, generous to his family, upright in all his dealings with other men. But he didn’t believe all that stuff about God becoming man, which churches proclaim at Christmas. Why would God want to do anything like that?

So when his family left to attend midnight services on Christmas Eve, he stayed home. Shortly after the family drove away, snow began to fall. He went to the window and watched the flurries getting heavier and heavier. Sometime later, as he was reading his newspaper by the fire, he was startled by a thudding sound that was quickly followed by another. Then another.

When he went to investigate, he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They had been caught in the storm, and in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through the window.

“I can’t let these poor creatures lie there and freeze,” he thought. “But how can I help them?”

Then he remembered the barn. It would provide a warm shelter. He quickly put on his coat and boots and tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on a light.

But the birds didn’t come in.

“Food will bring them in,” he thought. So he hurried back to the house for bread crumbs, which he sprinkled on the snow to make a trail into the barn.

To his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs and continued to flop around helplessly in the snow. He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around and waving his arms. They scattered in every direction – except into the warm, lighted barn.

“They find me a strange and terrifying creature,” he said to himself, “and I can’t seem to think of any way to let them know they can trust me. If only I could be a bird myself for a few minutes, perhaps I could lead them to safety.”

Just at that moment, the church bells began to ring. He stood silently for awhile, listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. Then he sank to his knees in the snow. “Now I understand,” he whispered. “Now I see why You had to do it.”

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