On A Cold Christmas Eve (2)

On A Cold Christmas Eve (2)

The officer laughed and winced at the same time. The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. “Give me all your cash! Do it now!” the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before. “That’s the guy that shot me!” exclaimed the officer. “Son, why are you doing this?” asked George. “You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt.” The young man was confused. “Shut up old man, or I’ll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!” The cop was reaching for his gun. “Put that thing away,” George said to the cop. “We got one too many in here now.” He turned his attention to the young man. “Son, it’s Christmas Eve. If you need the money, well then, here. It ain’t much but it’s all I got. Now put that pee shooter away.” George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. “I’m not very good at this, am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife

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On A Cold Christmas Eve

On A Cold Christmas Eve

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn’t been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. He had no decorations, no tree, no lights. It was just another day to him. He didn’t hate Christmas, just couldn’t find a reason to celebrate. There were no children in his life. His wife had gone. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the space heater and warm up. “Thank you, but I don’t mean to intrude,” said the stranger. “I see you’re busy. I’ll just go.” “Not without something hot in your belly,” George turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. “It ain’t much, but it’s hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you’re done there’s coffee and it’s fresh.” Just at that moment, he heard the “ding” of the driveway bell. “Excuse me, be right back,” George said. There in the driveway was an old 53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The

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The Voice of Christmas

The Voice of Christmas

By Bob Perks He had been a long time member of the church but refused to show up for services let alone join. He was an integral part of the Christmas Choir, but would not attend rehearsals. Still, everyone looked forward to seeing him once a year. So much, in fact, they would hold a seat for him at the candlelight service every Christmas Eve. Many of the congregation would arrive early to get a good seat nearby the gentleman. Was it his personality? No, he really kept to himself rarely sharing a word with anyone. It was his voice. “Oh Holy Night” was his song. Throughout his life, he often wished for the chance to perform it at a local church. Although the spirit of Christmas had left his heart years ago with the passing of his wife, this one song, those special lyrics, belonged to him. It was said that it was her favorite song and although poor, the richness of his voice was his gift to her. This church, that night, was always theirs. As the service progressed anticipation would build. Everyone joined in singing “Silent Night,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and others. Then the big moment would arrive. The choir would stand, the church organ would begin to play. “O holy night, the stars are

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Every Day is Christmas

Every Day is Christmas

Every day is Christmas when you have the kind of mind, That stores up all the goodness and the sweetness it can find. When you don’t need an occasion, to spread a bit of cheer, But just keep on a-giving, of yourself throughout the year. Every day is Christmas, with a gaily wrapped surprise, When you’ve learned to see the friendship, in someone else’s eyes. When you try a little harder, and complain a little less, Holding fast to all the fervor of the faith that you possess. Every day is Christmas when you’ve found that you can be More concerned with words like “you” and less with “I” and “me.” When it’s fun to do a favor, and to lend a helping hand, When being understood means less, than when you understand. Every day is Christmas, with a beauty deeply cast, When you find it doesn’t matter, if you’re first or if you’re last. When you can face your conscience, and be glad of what you are, Then every day is Christmas, with a stable and a star. — Author Unknown Meditation: One thing I have desired of the Lord, That will I seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord All the days of my life, To behold the beauty of the Lord, And to

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The Christmas 10 Commandments

The Christmas 10 Commandments

Below are some 10 commandments of Christmas coined by a concerned citizen: 1. Thou shalt give thy heart to Christ. Let Him be at the top of thy Christmas list 2. Thou shalt prepare thy soul for Christmas. Spend not so much on gifts that thy soul is forgotten. 3. Thou shalt not let Santa Claus replace Christ, thus robbing the day of its spiritual reality. 4. Thou shalt not burden the shop girl, the mailman, and the merchant with complaints and demands. 5. Thou shalt give thyself with thy gift. This will increase its value a hundred fold, and he who receiveth it shall treasure it forever. 6. Thou shalt not value gifts received by their cost. Even the least expensive may signify love, and that is more priceless than silver and gold. 7. Thou shalt not neglect the needy. Share thy blessings with many who will go hungry and cold unless thou are generous. 8. Thou shalt not neglect thy church. Its services highlight the true meaning of the season. 9. Thou shalt be as a little child. Not until thou has become in spirit as a little one art thou ready to enter into the kingdom of Heaven. 10. Thou shall not forget to share your joy, peace and faith with those around you. — Author Unknown

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For the Man Who Hated Christmas

For the Man Who Hated Christmas

by Nancy W. Gavin It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas–oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it – overspending… the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma—the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else. Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a

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