Rudolf—That Amazing Reindeer
On a December night in Chicago several years ago, a little girl climbed onto her father’s lap and asked a question. It was a simple question asked in a child’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?
Click link for rest of story: Rudolph–That Amazing Reindeer
The Twelve Days of Christmas
by Vickey Pahnke CES teacher, songwriter, producer
The story goes that from 1558 until 1829 people in England were not allowed to practice their faith openly. During this era, the song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ was written as a subtle way of celebrating Christ’s birth in public without risk of prosecution. The song’s lyrics had a hidden meaning known only to members of the church, each element of the twelve days offering code meaning for a religious reality.
1. The partridge in a pear tree stood for Jesus Christ
2. The two turtledoves stood for the Old and New Testaments
3. Three French hens stood for faith, hope, and charity.
Click link for rest of story: The Twelve Days of Christmas
The Man and the Birds
PAUL HARVEY’S CHRISTMAS STORY; “THE MAN AND THE BIRDS”
By PAUL HARVEY, ABC RADIO
Dec 24, 2004, 01:57
Unable to trace its proper parentage, I have designated this as my Christmas Story of the Man and the Birds. You know, THE Christmas Story, the God born a man in a manger and all that escapes some moderns, mostly, I think, because they seek complex answers to their questions and this one is so utterly simple. So for the cynics and the skeptics and the unconvinced I submit a modern parable.
Click link for rest of story: The Man and the Birds
Bobby was getting cold sitting out in his back yard in the snow. Bobby didn’t wear boots; he didn’t like them and anyway he didn’t own any. The thin sneakers he wore had few holes in them and they did a poor job of keeping out the cold. Bobby had been in his backyard for about an hour already. And, try as he might, he could not come up with an idea for his mother’s Christmas gift.
He shook his head as he thought, “This is useless, even if I do come up with an idea, I don’t have any money to spend.”
Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn’t because his mother didn’t care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity.
Click link for rest of story: The Dime
A String of Blue Beads
By Fulton Oursler
Peter Richards was the loneliest man in town on the day Jean Grace opened his door. You may have seen something in the newspapers about the incident at the time it happened, although neither his name nor hers was publicized, nor was the full story told as I tell it here.
Pete’s shop had come down to him from his grandfather. The little Christmas front window was strewn With a disarray of old-fashioned things; bracelets and lockets worn in days before the Civil War; gold rings and silver boxes; images of jade and ivory, porcelain figurines.
Click link for rest of story: A String Of Blue Beads
Pattern of Love
by Jack Smith
I didn’t question Timmy, age nine, or his seven year old brother Billy about the brown wrapping paper they passed back and forth between them as we visited each store.
Every year at Christmas time, our Service Club takes the children from poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour. I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work. After giving them the allotted four dollars each, be began our trip. At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no. Finally I asked, “Where would you suggest we look?”
Click link for rest of story: Pattern of Love
Emma’s Christmas Wish
by Sallyann F. Murphey
Outside, snow tumbled down, piling against gates and doorways, obliterating the road, and filling the old farmhouse with opalescent light. Inside, all was quiet—except for the whisper of voices upstairs: “Rosie, please…We must have Christmas, and how can we do that without the Christmas book?”
“But Dad told us we couldn’t this year. No Christmas, no cookies, no carols, no…anything…” The seven-year-old’s bottom lip began to quiver.
Click link for rest of story: Emma’s Christmas Wish