This is one of my favorite Christmas Stories.
I remember it was the same year my father had lost his job. He had lacked work for a time long enough to leave me with memories of using candles, because they had cut off our electricity. Even my only sweater bore holes, and my socks resembled swiss cheese.
We had never really been poor, but the hurdles of the past year had left us quite bad off. The neighbors offered help but Dad was proud. He refused charity.
I couldn't understand the whole situation, and it seemed to me that my smaller brother, Jerry, who had mowed lawns all summer long owned 80 percent of the family's wealth. The money sat in a big piggy bank on top of his dresser drawers. Every once in a while I'd sneak in and grab a little, whenever I had a worthy cause; I mean, he couldn't exactly be saving for college. Not in his condition he wasn't.
You see. Jerry who was a year younger than I was--twelve, was different from other people. He entered this world a mongaloid. He looked different in a funny kind of way and had the mentality of a six year old. He also had a speech problem. His syllables were pronounced wrong a lot and his voice was real low and gruff.
The difference had separated us, like weeds separate flowers. Yet, we used to be so close, when we were very young, like baby cubs climbing the tree of life. We laughed together, we cried together, we even stumbled together. I had learned to understand Jerry and couldn't detect any difference because we had stuck so closely together, and had been under our mother's wing.
But as the years came along with other friends and children, so came the realization, his difference. It was becoming noticeable. Reality had whispered louder and louder that Jerry was different. His difference was an illness, a disease that took him from me, that changed him continuously until he was no longer my brother. Instead, he was a simple animal, an inhuman thing that caused me enough embarrassment to make me hate him. Often I became cruel towards him.
I remember one time I'd gone to play some ball, and as usual he'd shadowed right behind me. They wouldn't let me play because in order to keep the two teams equal, they'd only let two boys join in at a time. Nobody wanted Jerry, and that kept me from playing too. It had happened many times before. Each time, my resentment mounted. Each time I hated him. There wasn't a moment that went by without him getting in the way.
This time the mountain of hate exploded and I turned on him. "Look, you stupid lookin' creep, why ya gotta follow me around; leave me alone and go home." Then I slapped him again and again 'cause I wished he was dead. I couldn't go anywhere without being embarrassed. everyone always referred to me as "the one with the M.R. for a brother."
He finally went home crying. I didn't care. I was too worried about the chewing out I'd be getting when I got home. Later on I really felt sorry for what I'd done. I felt even worse when I got home and discovered he hadn't told on me. Instead he came up to me and apologized to me for making me mad.
I also remember one time that summer we'd gone to the beach. Naturally I had to look out for Jerry, but all the kids started looking at us when they noticed Jerry was different I couldn't take i, and I knew that if I ignored him long enough, he'd get lost.
Only he got lost for a long time. They began to think he'd drowned. Pitifully enough. I couldn't care less. Hours later, an old man brought him back on top of his shoulders and said he'd found him about two miles down the beach, behind an old outhouse sitting in the sand and crying. You know, it seemed Jerry did an awful lot of crying.
Well, as time passed, leaves fell and snow came, everyone looked towards Christmas. I was looking at a dream. There was this beautiful watch in the jeweler's window a watch with a gold band. It really wasn't too expensive, but too expensive for us. I know it was impossible, but I liked to imagine that Christmas morning would find me wearing it. Every time I passed the store I'd stare at it forever.
I woke up Christmas morning rushing to open the one gift that was for me by the fireplace. It was a great looking sweater, and I really needed one too. "Thanks a lot , Dad." I shouted but noticed how tired he looked so I asked him. "Dad did you stay up all night with Jerry again?"
"Yes," he replied, "he's getting worse."
You see, about a week before, Jerry and I had gone tubing. Jerry ended up at the bottom of the hill, head down in a snowdrift. He lay there, kicking and yelling for help, but again, memories of past embarrassing situations brought out my cruelty., and I watched him actually dying before I was satisfied. When I finally dug him out, instead of realizing what I had done, the poor dumb idiot, between his gasps of air and his tears, tried to thank me for saving his life. Anyway, he'd caught pneumonia and my parents had spent the last two nights with him.
"Lets go join your Mother and Jerry." Dad said. Jerry's room smelled of medicine and Jerry really looked horrible but his eyes were all lit up. He was kinda smilin' softly and said., "Jerry's got a surprise for you Jim"
I figured he was gonna hit me with another one of his homemade, butcher paper, water-colored type. Christmas cards he'd made. He tried to jump out of bed but soon found he was so weary he could barley move. HE wobbled over to his closet and pulled it out; another card, a flat sheet about a square foot big and written in red water color "TO MY BIG BROTHER: WHOM I LOVE THE MOST"
While I was reading it, I noticed the broken pieces of his piggy bank in the corner. Then he slowly reached under his bed and pulled out a small box. He wiped his nose with his P.J. sleeve then stood there with his arm stretched out, his eyes lit up and with all the love he could muster up in the low gruff voice he said,, "Warwy Kwishmas, Shimmy!"
I opened the box--and there it was, the gleaming, reflecting watch with the gold band, the one I thought I'd never see again. I couldn't even stop looking at it. Then he gave me a bear hug and asked, "Shimmy, where my pweshent?"
I looked up at him, over the broken pieces of his bank in the corner, the watch, then back at his questioning eyes, and I didn't even have the courage to tell him I'd forgotten about him. I just grabbed him and started bawling like a baby. He never lived to say "Happy New Year" he died two days later.
It's Christmas Eve again, snowing again, too. I'd just gotten off the phone (parents called to say "Merry Christmas"). I laid back down on my dorm bed (I'm in college now). I laid down with my arms folded behind me and started to look at the only object on the wall; an old, homemade, water-colored Christmas card. I checked the time on my watch--the one with the gold band; just a few seconds before midnight. I gazed up at the wall again and read the words aloud "Whom I love the most."
Then...I could actually hear him say it again. "Warwy Kwishmash, Shimmy" Only this time I answered back as loud as I could; Merry Christmas Jerry, Merry Christmas.!"
This true story written by Gary Acevedo Junior, was dedicated "To all who have brothers"
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Gift of Charity
True Christmas Joy 
Twas the day before Christmas, a long time ago
And our beautiful earth was all covered with snow;
Down the street with their sleighs came two manly boys,
Who paused at the window to look at the toys.
Already two others were there looking in;
but their faces were sad, and their clothes old and thin.
And the little one said, "Is it because we're so poor
That Santa doesn't come to our house any more?"
The older one patted his wee brother's head,
And hugged him up closely, as softly he said:
"Oh, maybe he will come tonight, little Tim
If we ask in our prayers for the Lord to send him!"
The little face smiled, but the boys saw a tear
In the eye of the one who quelled little Tim's fear
Then slowly and sadly the waifs went their way
To the place they called home, where that night they would pray.
The boys, with their sleighs, followed closely behind,
And neither one spoke, but in each childish mind
A beautiful thought said as plain as could be;
"I'll share with those poor boys what Santa brings me."
When the two reached their home, to their fathers they ran,
And eagerly told him their unselfish plan.
He was proud of his boys, who now felt that same love
That sent our dear Savior from his home above.
Next morning, still thrilled with their beautiful thought,
They scampered downstairs to see what Santa had brought.
And they, with the help of their father and mother,
Selected the present for Tim and his brothers.
And as the first light of dawn came into view
The two went their way with the toys bright and new.
And crept very quietly up to the door
Where they'd seen the boys enter the evening before.
As they hurried back home toward their own Christmas joys,
They could not even dream how the other two boys,
On finding that Santa had really been there,
Sent their joy to the One who had answered their prayer.
That night, when the "Santas" were ready for bed,
With a hand of their father on each curly head,
They knew, as they thought of the two poor, happy boys,
What's the truest and choicest of all Christmas joys.
Twas the day before Christmas, a long time ago
And our beautiful earth was all covered with snow;
Down the street with their sleighs came two manly boys,
Who paused at the window to look at the toys.
Already two others were there looking in;
but their faces were sad, and their clothes old and thin.
And the little one said, "Is it because we're so poor
That Santa doesn't come to our house any more?"
The older one patted his wee brother's head,
And hugged him up closely, as softly he said:
"Oh, maybe he will come tonight, little Tim
If we ask in our prayers for the Lord to send him!"
The little face smiled, but the boys saw a tear
In the eye of the one who quelled little Tim's fear
Then slowly and sadly the waifs went their way
To the place they called home, where that night they would pray.
The boys, with their sleighs, followed closely behind,
And neither one spoke, but in each childish mind
A beautiful thought said as plain as could be;
"I'll share with those poor boys what Santa brings me."
When the two reached their home, to their fathers they ran,
And eagerly told him their unselfish plan.
He was proud of his boys, who now felt that same love
That sent our dear Savior from his home above.
Next morning, still thrilled with their beautiful thought,
They scampered downstairs to see what Santa had brought.
And they, with the help of their father and mother,
Selected the present for Tim and his brothers.
And as the first light of dawn came into view
The two went their way with the toys bright and new.
And crept very quietly up to the door
Where they'd seen the boys enter the evening before.
As they hurried back home toward their own Christmas joys,
They could not even dream how the other two boys,
On finding that Santa had really been there,
Sent their joy to the One who had answered their prayer.
That night, when the "Santas" were ready for bed,
With a hand of their father on each curly head,
They knew, as they thought of the two poor, happy boys,
What's the truest and choicest of all Christmas joys.
by Jannell Merrell
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Gift of Giving
Little Lost Angel 
Long ago, on that first Christmas Eve, when the angels came out from Heaven to bring their tidings of great joy, there was a very little angel who slipped out with them. She was so little she did not sing very well, and to tell the truth, she didn't quite understand what the angels were singing.
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men" "yes, she knew about that, but what was it the beautiful big angel alone was singing?"
"For unto you is born this day, in the City of David, a Savior... Yet shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
Wondering, she floated down to the grassy field below her to wait until the angels finished singing and could take her back to Heaven. And in the field, huddled close together, she found the sheep that the shepherds had forgotten. They were so soft, so warm, so quiet that the little angel lay down among them and fell asleep.
When she woke up, it was very still. The big angels had gone back into Heaven, and the shepherd's were hurrying to find the new baby about whom the angels had sung.
"I'm glad the big star is there," said the little angel. "But I wish the big angels had waited for me. I had better try and find them. I"m sure I can't find my way back to Heaven without them."
She straightened the crown upon her golden head and picked up her little harp which had fallen to one side. Then, gently spreading her wings, she went out onto the roadside.
"Why, there is one of the angels now," she cried and hurried to him.
But it wasn't an angel she found only a man, a man walking by himself, his head hung down so that he did not see even the great star.
The little angel looked at him, "Why don't you sing?" she asked.
"Sing! Why should I sing? What is there to sing about?" growled the man.
Long ago, on that first Christmas Eve, when the angels came out from Heaven to bring their tidings of great joy, there was a very little angel who slipped out with them. She was so little she did not sing very well, and to tell the truth, she didn't quite understand what the angels were singing.
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men" "yes, she knew about that, but what was it the beautiful big angel alone was singing?"
"For unto you is born this day, in the City of David, a Savior... Yet shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
Wondering, she floated down to the grassy field below her to wait until the angels finished singing and could take her back to Heaven. And in the field, huddled close together, she found the sheep that the shepherds had forgotten. They were so soft, so warm, so quiet that the little angel lay down among them and fell asleep.
When she woke up, it was very still. The big angels had gone back into Heaven, and the shepherd's were hurrying to find the new baby about whom the angels had sung.
"I'm glad the big star is there," said the little angel. "But I wish the big angels had waited for me. I had better try and find them. I"m sure I can't find my way back to Heaven without them."
She straightened the crown upon her golden head and picked up her little harp which had fallen to one side. Then, gently spreading her wings, she went out onto the roadside.
"Why, there is one of the angels now," she cried and hurried to him.
But it wasn't an angel she found only a man, a man walking by himself, his head hung down so that he did not see even the great star.
The little angel looked at him, "Why don't you sing?" she asked.
"Sing! Why should I sing? What is there to sing about?" growled the man.
"It makes you happy to sing," laughed the little angel. She ran her fingers across the harp she was carrying and sang softly a little son. "There, isn't that pretty?"
"Very, very pretty," said the man, looking at her at last.
"Here, you take it then you can sing," said the little one, putting her harp into his hands. "And, please will you tell me if the angels went this way?"
"Angels? Angels?"
"Didn"t you see them?" asked the little one. "Oh, see! Isn't that one of them just beyond us?"
She flew on to look, but alas, again it was a stranger to whom she came; a woman this time. Her clothes were rich, but her face was hard and sullen, and she spoke roughly to the little angel.
"Go away! Go away! I'm no fit person for a child to be seen with."
"Is it because you've lost your crown?" Asked the angel anxiously, "because if you have, you may have mine. And please, could you tell me which way the angels went?"
"Angels?" Said the woman in a startled voice.
She held the crown in her hands, and as she looked at it, long-lost tears ran down her face.
"What is this that is happening to me?" She whispered.
But the little angel had gone more quickly now that she had no harp to carry, no crown upon her head. So fast did she go that she almost fell upon a little boy sitting by the roadside and crying as though his heart would break.
"What is that strange sound you are making, little one?" asked the angel.
"I'm crying," the little boy told her. "I wanted to see the King the new King who is to be in Bethlehem tonight. But they have all gone away and left me. I'm lame, you see, so I can't walk fast, and by the time I get there, the King will be gone."
" King!" said the angel. "I thought is was a baby."
"Very, very pretty," said the man, looking at her at last.
"Here, you take it then you can sing," said the little one, putting her harp into his hands. "And, please will you tell me if the angels went this way?"
"Angels? Angels?"
"Didn"t you see them?" asked the little one. "Oh, see! Isn't that one of them just beyond us?"
She flew on to look, but alas, again it was a stranger to whom she came; a woman this time. Her clothes were rich, but her face was hard and sullen, and she spoke roughly to the little angel.
"Go away! Go away! I'm no fit person for a child to be seen with."
"Is it because you've lost your crown?" Asked the angel anxiously, "because if you have, you may have mine. And please, could you tell me which way the angels went?"
"Angels?" Said the woman in a startled voice.
She held the crown in her hands, and as she looked at it, long-lost tears ran down her face.
"What is this that is happening to me?" She whispered.
But the little angel had gone more quickly now that she had no harp to carry, no crown upon her head. So fast did she go that she almost fell upon a little boy sitting by the roadside and crying as though his heart would break.
"What is that strange sound you are making, little one?" asked the angel.
"I'm crying," the little boy told her. "I wanted to see the King the new King who is to be in Bethlehem tonight. But they have all gone away and left me. I'm lame, you see, so I can't walk fast, and by the time I get there, the King will be gone."
" King!" said the angel. "I thought is was a baby."
"They said he was a King," said the little boy and he began to cry again.
"Take my wings," said the angel. "You can't walk very well so it is you who should have them."
She fastened her wings carefully to his shoulders. They were soft, fluttery things that caught the low night breezes and bore the boy forward in a gentle, rapturous motion.
"Thank you, oh thank you," he called back, but the little angel scarcely heard him. She was trying to walk without her wings. She had not known it would be so difficult. She kept falling to the ground, and her tender feet were cut and bruised by the stones in the roadway.
"But the big star is there," she thought, as she went slowly along, and see, a light! Is it Heaven at last?"
"Take my wings," said the angel. "You can't walk very well so it is you who should have them."
She fastened her wings carefully to his shoulders. They were soft, fluttery things that caught the low night breezes and bore the boy forward in a gentle, rapturous motion.
"Thank you, oh thank you," he called back, but the little angel scarcely heard him. She was trying to walk without her wings. She had not known it would be so difficult. She kept falling to the ground, and her tender feet were cut and bruised by the stones in the roadway.
"But the big star is there," she thought, as she went slowly along, and see, a light! Is it Heaven at last?"
But is was not a light from Heaven she saw only candles form a home nearby.
The angel knocked timidly and stood waiting a little thing with pleading eyes and tangled golden hair.
A woman opened the door, then stood staring at the little angel, unable to believe what she saw.
"Peter," she whispered back into the room, "Peter, come, Do you see what I see! Oh, is it a miracle because we have prayed so long? Is this a child sent to us at last?"
She put out her hands and drew the lost angel to her. She bathed the soiled and bleeding feet and combed the tangled hair. Then she held her close and sang a low song of great joy, and the little angel closed her eyes and dreamed that she was in Heaven.
When she awake it was morning. She had found not Heaven, but a new home and a mother and father.
They so loved her that she almost forgot she had been a little angel. She ran about the fields while the man Peter tended his sheep, and she helped the woman Dorcas make the bread and sweep the floor. She played in the meadows and vineyards with other children, and they loved her because she was so gentle and sweet.
Many years passed, and Peter and Dorcas at last grew old and passed away. But the lost angel stayed in their home alone. Now is was she who tended the sheep and gathered the grapes and made the bread. She was friendly to all who came to her door. Many travelers knocked there and always found a welcome, food and rest.
They told her about the lands through which they had come and of the people they had met or of whom they had heard.
Many of their stories were of the great ones in the world. They told her of a poet who sang his way straight into the heart of men. They told of a great-hearted woman who spent her life helping the poor and sinful. They told her of a leader of the people-lame, it is true, but inspired and beloved.
And the angel heard them with a smile. She knew that the poet was the man to whom she had given her harp, that the great hearted woman was the one who wore her crown and the leader of the people was the boy who had taken her wings.
The angel knocked timidly and stood waiting a little thing with pleading eyes and tangled golden hair.
A woman opened the door, then stood staring at the little angel, unable to believe what she saw.
"Peter," she whispered back into the room, "Peter, come, Do you see what I see! Oh, is it a miracle because we have prayed so long? Is this a child sent to us at last?"
She put out her hands and drew the lost angel to her. She bathed the soiled and bleeding feet and combed the tangled hair. Then she held her close and sang a low song of great joy, and the little angel closed her eyes and dreamed that she was in Heaven.
When she awake it was morning. She had found not Heaven, but a new home and a mother and father.
They so loved her that she almost forgot she had been a little angel. She ran about the fields while the man Peter tended his sheep, and she helped the woman Dorcas make the bread and sweep the floor. She played in the meadows and vineyards with other children, and they loved her because she was so gentle and sweet.
Many years passed, and Peter and Dorcas at last grew old and passed away. But the lost angel stayed in their home alone. Now is was she who tended the sheep and gathered the grapes and made the bread. She was friendly to all who came to her door. Many travelers knocked there and always found a welcome, food and rest.
They told her about the lands through which they had come and of the people they had met or of whom they had heard.
Many of their stories were of the great ones in the world. They told her of a poet who sang his way straight into the heart of men. They told of a great-hearted woman who spent her life helping the poor and sinful. They told her of a leader of the people-lame, it is true, but inspired and beloved.
And the angel heard them with a smile. She knew that the poet was the man to whom she had given her harp, that the great hearted woman was the one who wore her crown and the leader of the people was the boy who had taken her wings.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The Gift of Humility
Every Christmas our family reads Christmas stories throughout the month of December. Then when it is the 12 days of Christmas we read all 12 days as a count down. This year I thought I would share some of the Christmas stories we have read.
Annie and Willie's Prayer
Twas the eve before Christmas, goodnight had been said, and Annie and Willie had crept into bed. There were tears on their pillows and tears in their eyes, and each little bosom was heaving with sighs, for tonight their stern Father's command had been given that they should retire precisely at seven instead of at eight; for they troubled him more with questions unheard of than ever before.
He told them he thought this delusion a sin-no such thing as Santa Claus ever had been. And he hoped, after this, he would never more hear how he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.
And this was the reason that two little heads so restlessly tossed on their soft, down beds. Eight, nine and the clock in the steeple toiled then; not a word had been spoken by either till then. When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep, and whispered, "Dear Annie, is you fast asleep?"
"Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet voice replied, "I've tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes, for somehow it makes me so sorry because dear Papa said there is no Santa Clause. Now, we know that there is, and it can't be denied, for he came every year before Mama died. But then I am thinking that she used to pray, and God would hear everything Mama would say. And perhaps she asked him to send Santa Clause here with the sacks full of presents he brought every year."
"Well, why can't we pray just as Mama did then and ask him to send him with presents again?" "I've been thinking so too," and without a word more, four little bare feet bounded out on the floor. Four little knees the soft carpet pressed, and two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast. "Now, Willie, you know we must firmly believe that the presents we ask for we're sure to receive, you must wait just as still till I say "amen," and by that you will know that your turn has come then.
"Dear Jesus, look down on by brother and me, and grant us the favor we are asking of Thee." I want a wax dolly, a tea set and ring, and an ebony work box that shuts with a spring. Bless Papa, dear Jesus and cause him to see that Santa Clause loves us far better than he. Don't let him get fretful and angry again at dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen!"
"Please, Jesus, let Santa Claus turn down tonight, and bring us some presents before it is light. I want he should have me a nice little sled with bright shinny runners and all painted red; a box full of candy, a book and a toy, then Jesus, I'll be a good boy. Amen."
Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads, and with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds. They were soon lost in slumber, both peacefully and deep, and with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.
Eight, nine and the little french clock had struck ten, ere the father had thought of his children again; he seems now to hear Annie's suppressed sighs, and to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes. "I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said, and should not have sent them so early to bed, but then, I was troubled, my feelings found went for bank stock today had gone down ten per cent. But, of course, they've forgotten their troubles ere this, and that I denied them the thrice-asked for kiss. But just to be sure I'll steal up to their door, for I never spoke harsh to my darlings before." So saying, he softly ascended the stairs and arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers. His Annie's "Bless Papa" draws forth the big tears, and Willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears. "Strange, strange, I'd forgotten" he said with a sigh, "How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw night. I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said, "By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed."
Then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down, threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown, donned hat, coat and boots and was out in the street, a millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet.
Nor stopped then until he had bought everything from a box full of candy to a tiny, gold ring. Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store that the various presents outnumbered a score. Then homeward he turned with his holiday load, and with Aunt Mary's aid in the nursery was stowed. Miss dolly was seated beneath a pine tree, by the side of a table spread out for a tea. A work box well filled in the center was laid, and on it the ring for which Annie had prayed. A solider in uniform stood by a sled, with bright shining runners and all painted red. There were balls, dogs and horses, look pleasing to see. And birds of all colors were perched in the tree; while Santa Claus, laughing stood upon the top, as if getting ready more presents to drop.
And as the fond father, the picture surveyed, he thought for his trouble he had amply been paid, and he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear, I'm happier tonight than I've been for a year. I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before, what do I care if bank stocks falls ten percent more? Hereafter, I'll make it a rule, I believe, to have Santa Clause visit us each Christmas Eve. So thinking, he gently extinguished the light, then tripped down the stairs to retire for the night.
As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun put the darkness to flight and the stars one by one, four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide, and at the same moment the presents they spied. Then out of their beds they sprang with a bound, and the very gifts prayed for were all of them found. They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee and shouted for Papa to come quick and see what presents old Santa Clause brought in the night. Just the things that they wanted and left before light.
"And now," added Annie, in a voice soft and low, "You'll believe there's a Santa Clause, Papa, I know." While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee, determined no secret between them should be. And told in soft whispers how Annie had said that their dear, bless Mama so long ago dead, used to kneel down and pray by the side of their chair, and that God in Heaven had answered her prayer!
"Then we got up and prayed just as well as we could, and God answered our prayers now wasn't he good!" "I should say that He was if He sent you all these and knew just what presents my children would please." (Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, would be cruel to tell him I did it myself.)
Blind father! Who caused your proud heart to relent; and the hasty words spoken so soon to repent! "I was Lord Jesus who bade you steal softly upstairs, and made you his agent to answer their prayers.
Annie and Willie's Prayer
Twas the eve before Christmas, goodnight had been said, and Annie and Willie had crept into bed. There were tears on their pillows and tears in their eyes, and each little bosom was heaving with sighs, for tonight their stern Father's command had been given that they should retire precisely at seven instead of at eight; for they troubled him more with questions unheard of than ever before.
He told them he thought this delusion a sin-no such thing as Santa Claus ever had been. And he hoped, after this, he would never more hear how he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.
And this was the reason that two little heads so restlessly tossed on their soft, down beds. Eight, nine and the clock in the steeple toiled then; not a word had been spoken by either till then. When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep, and whispered, "Dear Annie, is you fast asleep?"
"Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet voice replied, "I've tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes, for somehow it makes me so sorry because dear Papa said there is no Santa Clause. Now, we know that there is, and it can't be denied, for he came every year before Mama died. But then I am thinking that she used to pray, and God would hear everything Mama would say. And perhaps she asked him to send Santa Clause here with the sacks full of presents he brought every year."
"Well, why can't we pray just as Mama did then and ask him to send him with presents again?" "I've been thinking so too," and without a word more, four little bare feet bounded out on the floor. Four little knees the soft carpet pressed, and two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast. "Now, Willie, you know we must firmly believe that the presents we ask for we're sure to receive, you must wait just as still till I say "amen," and by that you will know that your turn has come then.
"Dear Jesus, look down on by brother and me, and grant us the favor we are asking of Thee." I want a wax dolly, a tea set and ring, and an ebony work box that shuts with a spring. Bless Papa, dear Jesus and cause him to see that Santa Clause loves us far better than he. Don't let him get fretful and angry again at dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen!"
"Please, Jesus, let Santa Claus turn down tonight, and bring us some presents before it is light. I want he should have me a nice little sled with bright shinny runners and all painted red; a box full of candy, a book and a toy, then Jesus, I'll be a good boy. Amen."
Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads, and with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds. They were soon lost in slumber, both peacefully and deep, and with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.
Eight, nine and the little french clock had struck ten, ere the father had thought of his children again; he seems now to hear Annie's suppressed sighs, and to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes. "I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said, and should not have sent them so early to bed, but then, I was troubled, my feelings found went for bank stock today had gone down ten per cent. But, of course, they've forgotten their troubles ere this, and that I denied them the thrice-asked for kiss. But just to be sure I'll steal up to their door, for I never spoke harsh to my darlings before." So saying, he softly ascended the stairs and arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers. His Annie's "Bless Papa" draws forth the big tears, and Willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears. "Strange, strange, I'd forgotten" he said with a sigh, "How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw night. I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said, "By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed."
Then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down, threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown, donned hat, coat and boots and was out in the street, a millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet.
Nor stopped then until he had bought everything from a box full of candy to a tiny, gold ring. Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store that the various presents outnumbered a score. Then homeward he turned with his holiday load, and with Aunt Mary's aid in the nursery was stowed. Miss dolly was seated beneath a pine tree, by the side of a table spread out for a tea. A work box well filled in the center was laid, and on it the ring for which Annie had prayed. A solider in uniform stood by a sled, with bright shining runners and all painted red. There were balls, dogs and horses, look pleasing to see. And birds of all colors were perched in the tree; while Santa Claus, laughing stood upon the top, as if getting ready more presents to drop.
And as the fond father, the picture surveyed, he thought for his trouble he had amply been paid, and he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear, I'm happier tonight than I've been for a year. I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before, what do I care if bank stocks falls ten percent more? Hereafter, I'll make it a rule, I believe, to have Santa Clause visit us each Christmas Eve. So thinking, he gently extinguished the light, then tripped down the stairs to retire for the night.
As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun put the darkness to flight and the stars one by one, four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide, and at the same moment the presents they spied. Then out of their beds they sprang with a bound, and the very gifts prayed for were all of them found. They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee and shouted for Papa to come quick and see what presents old Santa Clause brought in the night. Just the things that they wanted and left before light.
"And now," added Annie, in a voice soft and low, "You'll believe there's a Santa Clause, Papa, I know." While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee, determined no secret between them should be. And told in soft whispers how Annie had said that their dear, bless Mama so long ago dead, used to kneel down and pray by the side of their chair, and that God in Heaven had answered her prayer!
"Then we got up and prayed just as well as we could, and God answered our prayers now wasn't he good!" "I should say that He was if He sent you all these and knew just what presents my children would please." (Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, would be cruel to tell him I did it myself.)
Blind father! Who caused your proud heart to relent; and the hasty words spoken so soon to repent! "I was Lord Jesus who bade you steal softly upstairs, and made you his agent to answer their prayers.
Lambert Park in the Dark
Went out early this morning for a ride at Lambert Park before the storm came. Met up with Stephen, his son Ryan, Todd, Eric, and Kerry. We drove and parked in Alpine. We got there at the same time as another rider, Russ, so he joined up and off we went. When we started it was pretty dark and we were thinking we should have probably brought our lights, but luckily Todd & Russ had lights, so we followed. Once we actually got in to Lambert Park it became light enough that we did not need them anymore.
The ride was a lot of fun. We rode Rodeo twice, and Ruin twice. I rode behind Todd on Ruin, wow can that guy jump. He hit every jump with great air and nice little twists to the bike. I definitely need to follow him more to improve my technique.
After Ruin we went up White Dog. We didn't take the new Ziggy, but I have it on my list of to do's. Instead we connected up to a trail I had not been on that drops us right back to where we were parked. This was a true mountain bike trail. It had tight switch backs and some very precarious edges. I was quite thrilled that I made it through most of this trail. We had three flat tires on the ride. Russ had 2 and Todd had 1. I used the flat tires as an opportunity to take some pictures, because this group is a go, go group and there is not time to get my camera out to take pictures.
Russ riding up the trail.
Todd & Stephen fixing his tire.
Todd & Ryan looking at the trail we are getting ready to ride.
The ride was a lot of fun. We rode Rodeo twice, and Ruin twice. I rode behind Todd on Ruin, wow can that guy jump. He hit every jump with great air and nice little twists to the bike. I definitely need to follow him more to improve my technique.
After Ruin we went up White Dog. We didn't take the new Ziggy, but I have it on my list of to do's. Instead we connected up to a trail I had not been on that drops us right back to where we were parked. This was a true mountain bike trail. It had tight switch backs and some very precarious edges. I was quite thrilled that I made it through most of this trail. We had three flat tires on the ride. Russ had 2 and Todd had 1. I used the flat tires as an opportunity to take some pictures, because this group is a go, go group and there is not time to get my camera out to take pictures.
Russ riding up the trail.
Todd & Stephen fixing his tire.
Todd & Ryan looking at the trail we are getting ready to ride.
Cracked Superfly
After 3 months of riding my Superfly cracked. I took it in to the Trek AF store and will not have it back for a minimum of 2 weeks. How lucky am I that I have a FS bike to ride.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Softball Tournament
Tournament was a lot of fun. We played one game on Friday and then played until 8 pm Saturday night. I don't have any pics while playing, because I get to engrossed in game.
This is my team I play on Scared Hitless.
Ryan, Chris C & Red (Red plays with us sometimes and Foul Play all of the time)
Katie & Shannon (Tara, Ryan, Chris & Red in the background)
Tara, Ryan, Chris & Red.
This is my team I play on Scared Hitless.
Ryan, Chris C & Red (Red plays with us sometimes and Foul Play all of the time)
Katie & Shannon (Tara, Ryan, Chris & Red in the background)
Tara, Ryan, Chris & Red.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Gone to do Charity Work
I am taking off to a charity softball tournament tomorrow, and will be gone for a couple of days, so I won't be able to tell you about the awesome mountain bike rides, because there won't be any. And no this is not charity work, but it sure is great to have fun while giving to others.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Chevron
Went on a new trail today, and it was a lot of fun. It is called Chevron, because it is right about the Texaco gas station at the Provo Trail head. The Texaco station used to be a Chevron station hence the trail name.
The trail is short but fun. It starts out with an immediate killer climb. And when I say killer it means my asthma was going to the point I had to stop. Since I can usually keep going you know this climb was intense. Of course it could have been I was in the wrong gear and trying too hard, but I do not think that was the case, I think it was intense. The thing about this climb, is it does not stop. You do have a couple of opportunities to level out, but they are short, and if I remember correctly there are only 2 breaks. Other than that it is straight up.
The nice part about riding this trail in the dark is you do not realize how steep the incline is or how far you have to go. You just keep going because you do not know any better. Which is exactly what happened to me. I kept going until we got to the top. There were a couple of stops due to mechanicals and me not knowing where to go, but other than that we went straight up. The trail ends somewhere above the water tower in Orem, but I do not know exactly where as it was dark, and instead of going down the service road we went down a single track to where we started.
The single track was a blast. It actually had one hill that reminded me of bear claw poppy. That kind of hill is worth doing any climb for. I have to say as steep as the climb was I can't wait to go back and do it again. This time I would like to see if I can do it without stopping.
The trail is short but fun. It starts out with an immediate killer climb. And when I say killer it means my asthma was going to the point I had to stop. Since I can usually keep going you know this climb was intense. Of course it could have been I was in the wrong gear and trying too hard, but I do not think that was the case, I think it was intense. The thing about this climb, is it does not stop. You do have a couple of opportunities to level out, but they are short, and if I remember correctly there are only 2 breaks. Other than that it is straight up.
The nice part about riding this trail in the dark is you do not realize how steep the incline is or how far you have to go. You just keep going because you do not know any better. Which is exactly what happened to me. I kept going until we got to the top. There were a couple of stops due to mechanicals and me not knowing where to go, but other than that we went straight up. The trail ends somewhere above the water tower in Orem, but I do not know exactly where as it was dark, and instead of going down the service road we went down a single track to where we started.
The single track was a blast. It actually had one hill that reminded me of bear claw poppy. That kind of hill is worth doing any climb for. I have to say as steep as the climb was I can't wait to go back and do it again. This time I would like to see if I can do it without stopping.
Monday, December 1, 2008
TG Weekend
Thanksgiving weekend was great, busy and fun. Here it is in a nutshell.
Wednesday
We went to the play A Christmas Carol. It was phenomenal! I loved it so much when it was time for intermission I was upset they had stopped. The guy who plays Scrooge does a great job. FYI Steve Winters is also a cast member in this play, and plays his part well.
Thursday
Woke up to rain and puddes. Mtb ride was cancelled. I cooked dinner for my family, and 2 of my brothers came over for dinner. There still living, so it must not have been too bad.
Friday
Friday
Woke up bright and early to go to Target for their Black Friday sale. I love shopping on black Friday!!! There seemed to be more people there this year than in years past. I got everything I was looking for. Hint...the best way to know what to get is to scout out the store the night before to see where they place all of the sale items. I do this every year, and know exactly where to go to get what I want or need. This year I got a dvd player for $25 (ours broke a couple of weeks ago), a digital camera $89 (10 megapixal) (now I can take pictures again) and many other great priced items.
Went to Lambert Park and rode with Sally and Steve. The trails were in great condition. We tried out some of the new poppy and ziggy trail. They work. Bruce has put a lot of hard work into them.
Saw Transporter 3. You can wait until the dollar theater or dvd, the action was good, the rest not so much.
Saturday
Went up 2000 South to Dry Canyon parking and took BST south, then jumped on the service road and rode to Windy ridge, and Great Western Trail. Then rode up to bridal veil falls and met my husband where we road BST south almost to Squaw Peak road. We had to turn around just before getting there due to muddy conditions. On the way back down Royce decided to go off a cliff. Apparently his bike slipped on a corner and he and the bike went down he said he was haning onto a tree branch and the bike yelling for help, but I didn't hear him. I missed the whole thing. I think it would have made a great picture. Somehow he survived and got back on his bike, and I rode up about that time.
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