The "W" in Christmas

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I
had cut back on nonessential obligations -- extensive card writing, endless
baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found myself exhausted,
unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning
of Christmas.


My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season
for a six-year-old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter
Pageant."


I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the
production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher. She assured
me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation. All parents
unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then. Fortunately, Nicholas
seemed happy with the compromise.


So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found
a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw several
other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were
led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on
the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.


Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday
as Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial
entertainment - songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold
title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens,
red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads. Those in the front
row-center stage -- held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the
song. As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the
letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his
portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."


The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small,
quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down -- totally
unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W."

The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's
mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly
holding her "W." Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the
laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it
together. A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we
understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:

"C H R I S T W A S L O V E"

And, I believe, He still is.



Amazed in His presence...



Humbled by His love.




May each of you have a Merry Christmas as you reflect on His Amazing Love



for us...




Have a blessed day!

A letter from Mom.....

Dear Santa,


I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my daughter's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.

I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my daughter saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think she wants her crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.

Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always, MOM...!

P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.