Introductions

         Every December growing up, my mother would dust off her book of short stories, scriptures, and hymns and we would begin one of my favorite Christmas traditions.  An advent calendar of sorts, she would open her book and read to us a different scripture and short story every night starting on the first of December and leading up until Christmas Day.  Having moved out a few years ago, I've found myself missing the stories of Christmas oranges or Lamanites standing on city walls.
I recently stumbled upon my mother's book as I was visiting my parent's home, and I asked her if I could receive a copy for myself.  She gladly shared her book with me and, as my husband and I have read through it with our own family, we have found a type of joy that we would love to share with others.
          Now I am posting these stories in hopes that others may find the same sense of joy and gratitude that we have found in our own home.  This blog is possible thanks to the wonderful Middlefork Ward Relief Society, who put together the original book almost ten years ago.  Thank you ladies so much for the beautiful stories that I now get to pass on. 

          Thank you all and Merry Christmas!

Christmas Music

Music

Joy to the World

 Samuel Tells of the Baby Jesus

 Who Is The Child 

When Joseph went to Bethlehem

While Shepherds watched their Flocks 

Stars Were Gleaming

 With Wondering Awe 

Jesus Once was a Little Child

 Come Follow Me

 When He Comes Again

As I have Loved

 You Silent Night

 If I Had Been in Bethlehem

 I am Trying to be Like Jesus

 I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

 Once Within a Lowly Stable

 Sleep Little Jesus

 Have A Very Merry Christmas

 Picture a Christmas

 I Stand All Amazed

 It Came Upon A Midnight Clear 

Away in a Manger

 Oh Come All Ye Faithful

 I heard the Bells on Christmas Day

 The Nativity Song

 The First Noel

 Once in Royal David’s City 

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear 

Angels We Have Heard on High

 The Shepherd’s Carol

 Hark the Herald Angels Sing

 We Three Kings Of Orient Are

 Christmas Bells

 Far Far Away on Judea’s Plain

 There Was Starlight On The Hillside

Music can be found on lds.org

December First

Isaiah Writes of Christ's Birth

Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; 

Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, 

and shall call his name Immanuel. 

-Isaiah 7:14

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: 

and the government shall be upon his shoulder: 

and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, 

The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. 

-Isaiah 9:6

The Three Levels of Christmas

 Hendricus J.M. Hoole, Jr. 

Christmas Observance

                There are three levels in which we can celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Let's call the first of these three levels the SANTA CLAUS LEVEL. It's the level of Christmas trees and holly, of whispered secrets and colorful packages, of candlelight and rich food and warm open houses. It's carolers in the shopping malls, excited children and weary but loving parents. It's a lovely time of special warmth and caring and giving. It's the level at which we eat too much and spend too much and do too much -- and enjoy every minute of it. 

                We love the Santa Claus level of Christmas. But there's a higher, more beautiful level. Let's call this second level the SILENT NIGHT LEVEL. It's the level of all our glorious Christmas carols, of that beloved, familiar story: "Now in those days there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus.." It's the level of the crowded inn and the silent, holy moment in a dark stable when the Son of Man came to earth. It's shepherds on steep, bare hills near Bethlehem, angels with their glad tidings, a new star in the East, wise men traveling far in search of the Holy One.  How beautiful and meaningful it is; how infinitely poorer we would be without this sacred second level of Christmas.                      The trouble is, these two levels don't last. They can't. Twelve days of Christmas, at the first level, is about all most of us can stand. It's too intense, too extravagant. The tree dries out and the needles fall. The candles burn down. The beautiful wrappings go out with the trash, the carolers are skating on the ice, and the toys break. The feast is over and the dieting begins. But the lonely and the hungry are with us still, perhaps lonelier and hungrier than before. 

              As lovely and joyous as the first level of Christmas is, there will come a day, very soon, when Mother will put away the decorations and vacuum the living room and think, "Thank goodness that's over for another year." Even the second level, the level of Baby Jesus, can't last. How many times this season can you sing "Silent Night?" The angels and the star and the shepherd, even the silent, sacred mystery of that holy night itself, can't long satisfy humanity's basic need. The man who keeps Christ in the manger will, in the end, be disappointed and empty. No, for Christmas to last all year long, for it to grow in beauty and meaning and purpose, for it to have the power to change lives, we must celebrate it in the third level, that of the ADULT CHRIST. 

              It is at this level -- not as an infant -- that our Savior brings His gifts of lasting joy, lasting peace, lasting hope. It was the adult Christ who reached out and touched the untouchable, who loved the unlovable, who so loved us all that even in His agony on the cross He prayed forgiveness for His enemies. This is the Christ, creator of worlds without number, who wept, Enoch tells us, because so many of us lack affection and hate each other -- and then who willingly gave his life for ALL of us, including those for whom He wept. 

              He is the Christ of which the prophets had foretold for centuries would come. Even before the world was created we learned of the key role the Savior would perform in the Plan of Salvation. He accepted the Father's plan of redemption and submitted himself to the will of the Father. 

              We read in Moses 4:2: "...behold, my Beloved Son, which was my Beloved and Chosen from the beginning, said unto me--Father; thy will be done, and thy glory be thine forever." 

              We also read in the scriptures in Isaiah 7:14: "Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel." In 2 Nephi 17:14 it is repeated. 

              In Isaiah 9:6 we read: "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." 

             We read 1 Cor. 15:22: "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." "How great the importance to make these things known unto the inhabitants of the earth, that they may know that there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah." 

             Yes, He was and is wonderful, the great Counsellor, the mighty God, willing to sacrifice his life that we might live if we are but willing to accept him as our Savior. He is the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. This is the Christ, the adult Christ, who gave us the perfect example, and asked us to follow Him. It was this Jesus Christ who's birth we are celebrating who asked us: John 14:15 "If you love me, keep my commandments." John 13:34 "A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another." Accepting that invitation -- to keep his commandments and to love one another -- is the way -- THE ONLY WAY -- to celebrate Christmas all year and all life long.

-As a song suggestion, I recommend "Silent Night" to go with this story

December Second

Samuel the Lamanite Prophecies of Christ's Birth

"And now it came to pass that Samuel, the Lamanite, 

did prophesy a great many more things which cannot be written. 

And behold, he said unto them: Behold, I give unto you a sign;

 for five years more cometh, and behold, then cometh the Son of God

 to redeem all those who shall believe on his name. 

And behold, this will I give unto you for a sign at the time of his coming;

 for behold, there shall be great lights in heaven, 

insomuch that in the night before he cometh there shall be no darkness,

 insomuch that it shall appear unto man as if it was day.

 Therefore, there shall be one day and a night and a day,

 as if it were one day and there were no night;

 and this shall be unto you for a sign; for ye shall know of the rising

 of the sun and also of its setting; therefore they shall know of a surety

 that there shall be two days and a night; 

nevertheless the night shall not be darkened; and it shall be 

the night before he is born. And behold, there shall a new star arise, 

such an one as ye never have beheld; and this also shall be a sign unto you.

 And behold this is not all, there shall be many signs and wonders in heaven.

 And it shall come to pass that ye shall all be amazed, and wonder,

 insomuch that ye shall fall to the earth. And it shall come to pass

 that whosoever shall believe on the Son of God, 

the same shall have everlasting life. And behold, thus hath the Lord commanded me,

 by his angel, that I should come and tell this thing unto you;

 yea, he hath commanded that I should prophesy these things unto you;

 yea, he hath said unto me: Cry unto this people, repent

 and prepare the way of the Lord. And also that ye might know of the

 coming of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Father of heaven and of earth,

 the Creator of all things from the beginning; 

and that ye might know of the signs of his coming, 

to the intent that ye might believe on his name."

Helaman 14:1-9, 12

Trouble at the Inn

By Dina Donahue 

              For many years now, whenever Christmas pageants are talked about in a certain little town in the Midwest, someone is sure to mention the name of Wallace Purling. Wally's performance in one annual production of the nativity play has slipped onto the realm of legend. But the oldtimers who were in the audience that night never tire of recalling exactly what happened. Wally was nine that year and in the second grade, though he should have been in the fourth. Most people in town knew that he had difficulty in keeping up. He was big and clumsy, slow in movement and mind. Still, his class, all of whom were smaller than he, had trouble hiding their irritation when Wally would ask to play ball with them or any game, for that matter, in which winning was important. 

              Most often they'd find a way to keep him out but Wally would hang around anyway not sulking, just hoping. He was always a helpful boy, a willing and smiling one, and the natural protector of the underdog. Sometimes if the older boys chased the younger ones away, it would always be Wally who'd say, "can't they stay? They're no bother." 

              Wally fancied the ideal of being a shepherd with a flute in the Christmas pageant that year, but the play's director, Miss Lumbar, assigned him to a more important role. After all, she reasoned, the Innkeeper did not have too many lines and Wally's size would make his refusal of lodging to Joseph more forceful. 

              And so it happened that the usual large, partisan audience gathered for the town's yearly extravaganza of beard, crown, halos and a whole stage full of squeaky voices. No one on stage or off was more caught up on the magic of the night than Wallace Purling. They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that from time to time Miss Lumbar had to make sure he didn't wander on stage before his cue. Then the time came when Joseph appeared, slowly, tenderly guiding Mary to the door of the Inn. Joseph knocked hard on the wooden door sat into the painted backdrop. Wally the innkeeper was there, waiting. 

             "What do you want?" Wally said, swinging the door open with a brusque gesture. 

             "We seek lodging." 

             "Seek it elsewhere," Wally looked straight ahead but spoke vigorously. "The Inn is filled."                   "Sir, we have asked everywhere in vain. We have traveled far and are very weary." 

             "There is no room in this Inn for you." Wally looked properly stern. 

             "Please, good Innkeeper, this is my wife, Mary. She is heavy with child and needs a place to rest. Surely you must have some small corner for her. She is so tired." Now, for the first time, the Innkeeper relaxed his still stance and looked down at Mary. With that, there was a long pause, long enough to make the audience a bit tense with embarrassment. 

             "No! Be gone!" the prompter whispered from the wings. 

             "No!" Wally repeated automatically, "Be gone!" Joseph sadly placed his arm around Mary and Mary laid her head upon her husband’s shoulder and the two of them started to move away. The Innkeeper did not return inside his Inn, however. Wally stood there in the doorway, watching the forlorn couple. His mouth was open, his brow creased with concern, his eyes filling unmistakable with tears. And suddenly the Christmas pageant became different from all the others. 

             "Don't go, Joseph," Wally called out. "Bring Mary back." And Wallace Purling's face grew into a bright smile. "You can have my room!" 

               Some people in town thought that the pageant had been ruined.Yet there were others....many, many others...who considered it the most Christmasy of all Christmas pageants they had ever seen.

Recommended song: If I Had Been in Bethlehem

December Third

The Visit of the Angel Gabriel to Mary

"And in the sixth month the angle Gabriel was sent from God

 unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, To a virgin espoused to a man

 whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; 

and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the angel came in unto her, and said,

 Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee:

 blessed art thou among women. And when she saw him, 

she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind 

what manner of salutation this should be. And the angel said unto her,

 Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold,

 thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, 

and shalt call his name JESUS. He shall be great, 

and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God

 shall give unto him the throne of his father David: 

And he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever; 

and of his kingdom there shall be no end. Then said Mary unto the angel,

 How shall this be, seeing I know not a man? And the angel answered and said unto her,

 The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest

 shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing

 which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.

 And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord;

 be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her."

-Luke 1:26-35, 38

This Christmas

President Howard W. Hunter

This Christmas... 

Mend a quarrel,

 Seek out a forgotten friend. 

Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust.

 Write a letter.

 Give a soft answer.

 Encourage youth.

 Manifest your loyalty in word and deed.

 Keep a promise.

 Forgo a grudge. 

Forgive an enemy.

 Apologize. 

Try to understand. 

Examine your demands on others.

 Think first of someone else.

 Be kind.

 Be gentle.

 Laugh a little more.

 Express your gratitude. 

Welcome a stranger. 

Gladden the heart of a child.

 Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth.

 Speak your love and then speak it again. 

Recommended Song: I'm Trying to be like Jesus

December Fourth

Elisabeth, Cousin to Mary, and Mother of John the Baptist

"And, behold, thy cousin Elisabeth, 

she hath also conceived a son in her old age:

 and this is the sixth month with her, 

who was called barren. 

For with God nothing shall be impossible." 

-Luke 1:36-37

Pattern of Love

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 $4.00 each, we 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?” “Could we go to a shoe store, Sir?” answered Timmy. “We’d like a pair of shoes for our Daddy so he can go to work”.

             In the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted. Out came the brown paper. “We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot, ” they said. Billy explained that it was a pattern of their Daddy’s foot. They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair.

            The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick, then walked away. Soon, he came with an open box, “Will these do? ” he asked. Timmy and Billy handled the shoes with great eagerness. “How much do they cost? ” asked Billy? Then Timmy saw the price on the box. “They’re $16.95, “he said in dismay. “We only have $8.00.” I looked at the clerk and he cleared his throat. “That’s the regular price,” he said, “but they’re on sale; $3.98, today only.” Then, with shoes happily in hand the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters. Not once did they think of themselves. 

            The day after Christmas the boy’s father stopped me on the street. The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes. “I just thank Jesus for people who care,” he said. “And I thank Jesus for your two sons,” I replied. “They really taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I had learned in a lifetime."

Recommended Song: I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

December Fifth

The Journey to Bethlehem

"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus,

 that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when 

Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, 

every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, 

out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, 

which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child."

-Luke 2:1-5

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 holidays “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.

Recommended Song: Once Within a Lowly Stable

December Sixth

The Birth of the Savior

"And so it was, that, while they were there, 

the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. 

And she brought forth her firstborn son, 

and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, 

and laid him in a manger; 

because there was no room for them in the inn."

-Luke 2:6-7 

The Gift of Love

President Thomas S. Monson

When I was a very young Bishop, in 1950, there was a tap at my door and a good German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself as Karl Guertler. He said, "Are you Bishop Monson?" I answered in the affirmative. 

He said, "My brother and his wife and their family are coming from Germany. They are going to live in your ward.

Will you come with me to see the apartment we have rented for them?"

On the way to that apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for something like 30 years. Yet all through the holocaust of World War II, his brother, Hans Guertler, had been faithful to the Church an officer in the Hamburg branch. I looked at that apartment. It was cold; it was dreary; the paint was peeling from the walls; the cupboards were bare. 

What an uninviting home for the Christmas Season of the Year! I worried about it and I prayed about it, and then in our ward welfare committee meeting we did something about it. The group leader of the high priest said, "I am an electrician. Let's put good appliances in that apartment." 

The group leader of the seventies said, "I am in the floor covering business. Let's install new floor coverings." 

The Elders Quorum President said, "I am a painter. Let's paint the apartment." 

The Relief Society representative spoke up, "Did you say those cupboards were bare?" (They were not bare very long, with the Relief Society in action.)

Then the young people, represented through the Aaronic Priesthood general secretary said, 

"Let's put a Christmas tree in the home and let's go among our young people and gather gifts to place under the tree." 

You should have seen that Christmas scene, when the Guertler family arrived from Germany in clothing, which was tattered, and with faces which were drawn by the rigors of war and deprivation. As they went into their apartment they saw what had been in actual fact a transformation a beautiful home. We spontaneously began singing, "Silent Night! Holy Night! All is calm; all is bright."

We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion of that hymn, Hans Guertler threw his arms around my neck buried his face in my shoulder, and repeated over and over again those words which I shall never forget: 

"Mein Brudder, mein brudder, mein brudder." As we walked down the stairs that night, all of us who had participated in making Christmas come alive in the lives of this German family, reflected upon the words of the Master: 

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 

Matthew 25:40

Recommended Song: Sleep Little Jesus

December Seventh

The Shepherds

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field,
keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them,
and the glory of the Lord shone round about them:
and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them,
Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy,
which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day
 in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe
 wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude
 of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

-Luke 2:8-14


CHRISTMAS WITH THE RIGHT FAMILY
(activity)

-Everyone sits in a circle holding the gift he or she brought for the Christmas Party/activity. Someone reads the story below, reading slowly enough for gifts to be passed. Every time the word RIGHT is read, everyone passes the gift they are holding to the right. Every time the word LEFT is read, everyone passes the gift they are holding to the left. The gift each person is holding when the story ends is the gift they keep. You can also buy some inexpensive gifts and wrap them for your party/family. There does not have to be a gift for every person.

Christmas was almost here, and Mother RIGHT was finishing the Christmas baking. 

Father RIGHT, Sue RIGHT, and Billy RIGHT returned from their last-minute 

Christmas errands. 

"There is not much LEFT to be done," said Father RIGHT as he came in to the kitchen. 

"Did you leave the basket of food at church?" asked Mother RIGHT.   

I LEFT it RIGHT where you told me to," said Father RIGHT. 

"I'm glad my shopping is done," said Billy RIGHT. 

"I don't have any money LEFT." The hall telephone rang, and Susan RIGHT LEFT to answer it. 

She rushed back and told the family, 

"Aunt Tillie RIGHT LEFT a package for us RIGHT on Grandma RIGHT's porch. I'll go over there RIGHT away and get it," she said as she LEFT in a rush. 

Father RIGHT LEFT the kitchen and brought in the Christmas tree. 

By the time Susan RIGHT returned, Mother RIGHT, Father RIGHT, and Billy RIGHT had begun trimming the tree. 

The entire RIGHT family sang carols as they finished the decorating. 

Then they LEFT all the presents arranged under the tree and went to bed, hoping they had selected the RIGHT gifts for their family. 

Now I hope you have the RIGHT present for yourself, because that's all that's LEFT to our story...except to wish you a Merry Christmas...isn't that RIGHT?

Recommended Song: Have a Very Merry Christmas

December Eighth

The Visit of the Shepherds

"And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, 

the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, 

and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph,

 and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, 

they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.

 And all they that heard it wondered at those things which 

were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things,

 and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned,

 glorifying and praising God for all the things 

that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them." 

-Luke 2:15-20

The Christmas Orange

            In the very early 1800's, a young boy about 14 years old named John lived in an orphanage in England along with several other children. Orphanages were dreaded. Orphan meant unwanted and unloved. The orphanage was administered by a master and his wife who were results of meager backgrounds themselves and were short on love but high on discipline. No childlike play, no expression of compassion, no understanding.

            Every day of the year was spent working. They worked in gardens, cleaned, sewed, and cooked sometimes for wealthy children. They were up at dawn and worked until dark and usually received only one meal a day. However, they were very grateful because they were taught to be hard workers. John had absolutely nothing to call his own. None of the children did.

            Christmas was the one day of the year when the children did not work and received a gift. A gift for each child — something to call their own.

            This special gift was an orange. John had been in the orphanage long enough to look forward with delight and anticipation of this special day of Christmas and to the orange he would receive. In Old England, and to John and his orphan companions, an orange was a rare and special gift. It had an unusual aroma of something they smelled only at Christmas. The children prized it so much that they kept it for several days, weeks, and even months — protecting it, smelling it, touching it and loving it. Usually they tried to savor and preserve it for so long that it often rotted before they ever peeled it to enjoy the sweet juice.

            Many thought were expressed this year as Christmas time approached. The children would say, "I will keep mine the longest." They always talked about how big their last orange was and how long they had kept it.

            John usually slept with his next to his pillow. He would put it right by his nose and smell of its goodness, holding it tenderly and carefully as not to bruise it. He would dream of children all over the world smelling the sweet aroma of oranges. It gave him security and a sense of well being, hope and dreams of a future filled with good food and a life different from this meager existence.

            This year John was overjoyed by the Christmas season. He was becoming a man. He knew he was becoming stronger and soon he would be old enough to leave. He was excited by this anticipation and excited about Christmas. He would save his orange until his birthday in July. If he preserved it very carefully, kept it cool and did not drop it, he might be able to eat it on his birthday

            Christmas day finally came. The children were so excited as they entered the big dining hall. John could smell the unusual aroma of meat. In his excitement and because of his oversized feet, he tripped, causing a disturbance. Immediately the master roared, "John, leave the hall and there will be no orange for you this year." John's heart broke violently wide open. He began to cry. He turned and went swiftly back to the cold room and his corner so the small children would not see his anguish.

            Then he heard the door open and each of the children entered. Little Elizabeth with her hair falling over her shoulders, a smile on her face, and tears in her eyes held out a piece of rag to John. "Here John," she said, "this is for you." John was touched by her youth and innocence as he reached for the bulge in her hand.

            As he lifted back the edges of the rag he saw a big juicy orange all peeled and quartered. . . and then he realized what they had done. Each had sacrificed their own orange by sharing a quarter and had created a big, beautiful orange for John. John never forgot the sharing, love and personal sacrifice his friends had shown him that Christmas day.

            John's beginning was a meager existence, however, his growth to manhood was rewarded by wealth and success. In memory of that day every year he would send oranges all over the world to children everywhere. His desire was that no child would ever spend Christmas without a special Christmas fruit!

            

Recommended Song: Picture a Christmas

December Ninth

The Wise Men

"Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, 

behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, 

Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? 

for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. 

When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled,

 and all Jerusalem with him. And when he had gathered all the

 chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded 

of them where Christ should be born. And they said unto him, 

In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet, 

Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, 

enquired of them diligently what time the star appeared. 

And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the

 young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, 

that I may come and worship him also. When they had heard the king,

 they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, 

till it came and stood over where the young child was. 

When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. 

And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child

 with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him:

 and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts;

 gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned of God 

in a dream that they should not return to Herod, 

they departed into their own country another way." 

-Matthew 2:1-5, 7-12

One Solitary Life

George Clarke Peck

            How do you explain the greatness of the man whose birthday we celebrate on Christmas?

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another village. He worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30, and then for three years was an itinerant preacher. he never wrote a book. He never held office. he never owned a home. he never traveled 200 miles from the place where he was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself

            Although he walked the land over, curing the sick, giving sight to the blind, healing the lame, and raising people from the dead, the top established religious leaders turned against him. His friends ran away. he was turned over to enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was spat upon, flogged and ridiculed. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While he was dying, the executioners gambled for the only piece of property he had on earth, and that was his robe. When he was dead, he was laid in the borrowed grave of a friend.

            Nineteen wide centuries have come and gone, and today he is the central figure of the human race and the Leader of the column of progress.

            All the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that were ever built, and all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as has that One Solitary Life.

Recommended Song: I Stand all Amazed

December Tenth

The Flight Into Egypt

"And when they were departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeareth

 to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, and take the young child

 and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word:

 for Herod will seek the young child to destroy him. When he arose, 

he took the young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt:

 And was there until the death of Herod: that it might be fulfilled

 which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, 

Out of Egypt have I called my son. But when Herod was dead,

 behold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in a dream to Joseph in Egypt,

 Saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel:

 for they are dead which sought the young child’s life. And he arose, 

and took the young child and his mother, and came into the land of Israel. 

But when he heard that Archelaus did reign in Judaea

 in the room of his father Herod, he was afraid to go thither:

 notwithstanding, being warned of God in a dream,

 he turned aside into the parts of Galilee: And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth:

 that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, 

He shall be called a Nazarene." 

-Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

Legend of the Sand Dollar

Upon this odd-shaped sea shell 

A legend grand is told 

About the life of Jesus

 The wondrous tale of old

The center marking plainly shows 

The well known Guiding Star 

That led to tiny Bethlehem 

The Wise Men from afar

The Christmas flower, Poinsettia 

For His Nativity

 The Resurrection too is marked 

The Easter Lily, see

Five wounds were suffered by our Lord 

From nails and Roman’s spear

 When He died for us on the cross 

The wounds show plainly here

Within the shell, should it be broke,

 Five Doves of Peace are found

 To emphasize this legend

 So may Love and Peace abound

-Author Unknown

Recommended Song: It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

December Eleventh

Jesus in the Temple

 "And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom:

 and the grace of God was upon him. Now his parents went to Jerusalem

 every year at the feast of the passover. And when he was twelve years old, 

they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast. 

And when they had fulfilled the days, as they returned,

 the child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusalem; and Joseph and his mother knew not of it.

 But they, supposing him to have been in the company, went a day’s journey; 

and they sought him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance.

 And when they found him not, they turned back again to Jerusalem,

 seeking him. And it came to pass, that after three days they found him in the temple, 

sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, 

and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished

 at his understanding and answers. And when they saw him, 

they were amazed: and his mother said unto him, 

Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and I have 

sought thee sorrowing. And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me?

 Wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business? 

And they understood not the saying which he spake unto them. 

And he went down with them, and came to Nazareth, and was subject unto them: 

but his mother kept all these sayings in her heart. 

And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man."

-Luke 2:40-52

LIGHT

There was once a shining Christmas Tree 

standing out where all could see. 

Its brilliance captured every eye,

 and seemed to cheer each passer-by.

 "The lights are beautiful," 

they’d say and hesitate to walk away.

 The tree stood proud, ablaze with light,

 for each bulb kept burning bright. 

Then one bulb was heard to say, 

"I’m tired of burning night and day:

 I think I’ll just go out and rest

 for I’m too tired to do my best. 

Besides I know I am so small

 I doubt I would be missed at all." 

Then a child lovingly touched the light.

 "Look mother, this one shines so bright.

 Of all the lights on the tree, 

this one looks the best to me."

 "Oh my goodness," said the light,

 I almost dimmed right out of sight.

 I thought perhaps no one would care

 if I failed to shine my share.

 And with that glowing brilliance came, 

for all the lights had felt the same. 

Life is like this tree. 

The little lights are you and me. 

Each of us has a space to fill with love,

 learning, and good will.

 Let’s keep our tree ablaze with light

 and the spirit of Christ burning bright.

 For Life is living tree, 

helping us be the best we can be.

Recommended Song: O Come All Ye Faithful

December Twelfth

I Am With You

"And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying,

All power is given unto me in heaven and in

earth.  Go ye therefore, and teach all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father, and 

of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching

them to observe all things whatsoever I have

commanded you: and lo, I am with you

always, even unto the end of the world. Amen."

-Matthew 28:18-20

For the Man Who Hated Christmas

--posted by Ben Lawder on Dec 20, 2008

[ Note: This story below was written by Nancy Gavin and originally published in the December 14, 1982 issue of Woman's Day magazine. ]

            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 nonleague 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 kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears.

            It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat.

            Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids - all kids - and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition--one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.

            The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

            As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there.

            You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more.

            Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing to take down the envelope.

            Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit will always be with us.

            

December Thirteenth

The Second Coming

"And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven: and then

 shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man

 coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he shall

 send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather

 together his elect from the four winds, from one end

 of heaven to the other."

-Matthew 24:30-31

A Boy Learns a Lesson

Thomas S. Monson

            In about my tenth year, as Christmas approached, I longed for and electric train. the times were those of the economic depression, yet my mother and dad purchased for me a lovely electric train.

            Christmas morning bright and early I thrilled when I noticed my train. the next few hours were devoted to operating the transformer and watching the engine pull its cars forward - then backward around the track.

            Mother said that she had purchased a windup train for the widow Hansen's boy, Mark, who lived down the lane at Gale street. as I looked at his train, I noted a tanker car which I so much admired. I put up such a fuss that my mother succumbed to my pleadings and gave me the tanker car. I put it with the train set and felt pleased.

            My mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen. the young boy was a year or two older that I . He had never anticipated such a gift. He was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, it not being electric or as expensive as mine, and was overjoyed as the engine and the three cars, plus caboose went around the track.

            I felt a horrible sense of guilt as I returned home. the tanker car no longer appealed to me. suddenly, I took the tank car in my hand, plus and additional car of my own, and ran all the way down to Gale Street and proudly announced to Mark, "we forgot to bring two cars which belong to your train."

            I don't know when a deed has made me feel any better than that experience as a ten-year-old boy.

Recommended Song: Away in a Manger

December Fourteenth

The Second Coming

"For I will reveal myself from heaven with power and great glory, 

with all the hosts thereof, and dwell in righteousness with men

 on earth a thousand years, and the wicked shall not stand."

-Doctrine and Covenants 29:11

Christmas Day in the Morning

Pearl S. Buck

            He woke suddenly and completely. It was four o'clock, the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking. Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still! Fifty years ago, and his father had been dead for thirty years, and yet he waked at four o'clock in the morning. He had trained himself to turn over and go to sleep, but this morning it was Christmas, he did not try to sleep

            Why did he feel so awake tonight? He slipped back in time, as he did so easily nowadays. He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm. He loved his father. He had not known it until one day a few days before Christmas, when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

            "Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings. He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep. If you could see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up! I wish I could manage alone." "Well, you can't, Adam." His mother's voice was brisk. "Besides, he isn't a child anymore. It's time he tok his turn."

            "Yes," his father said slowly. "But I sure do hate to wake him." 

            When he heard these words, something in him spoke: his father loved him! He had never thought of that before, taking for granted the tie of their blood. Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children--they had no time for such things. There was always so much to do on the farm.

            Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no loitering in the mornings and having to be called again. He got up after that, stumbling blindly in his sleep, and pulled on his clothes, his eyes shut, but he got up.

            And then on the night before Christmas, that year when he was fifteen, he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day. They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and mince pies his mother made. His sisters sewed presents and his mother and father always bought him something he needed, not only a warm jacket, maybe, but something more, such as a book. And he saved and bought them each something, too. He wished, that Christmas when he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father. As usual he had gone to the ten-cent store and bought a tie. It had seemed nice enough until he lay thinking the night before Christmas. He looked out of his attic window, the stars were bright.

            "Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "What is a stable?"

            "It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."

            Then Jesus had been born in a barn, and to a barn the shepherds had come... The thought struck him like a silver dagger. Why should he not give his father a special gift too, out there in the barn? He could get up early, earlier than four o'clock, and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done. He'd do it alone, milk and clean up, and then when his father went in to start the milking he'd see it all done. And he would know who had done it. He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars. It was what he would do, and he mustn't sleep too sound.

            He must have waked twenty times, scratching a match to look each time to look at his old watch -- midnight, and half past one, and then two o'clock

            At a quarter to three he got up and put on his clothes. He crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out. The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised. It was early for them, too.

            He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy. He kept thinking about his father's surprise. His father would come in and get him, saying that he would get things started while Rob was getting dressed. He'd go to the barn, open the door, and then he'd go get the two

big empty milk cans. But they wouldn't be waiting or empty, they'd be standing in the milkhouse, filled.

            "What the--," he could hear his father exclaiming

            He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant. The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before. Milking for once was not a chore. It was something else, a gift to his father who loved him. He finished, the two milk cans were full, and he covered them and closed the milk-house door carefully, making sure of the latch.

Back in his room he had only a minute to pull off his clothes in the darkness and jump into bed, for he heard his father up. He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing. The door opened. "Rob!" His father called. "We have to get up, son, even if it is Christmas." "Aw-right," he said sleepily

            The door closed and he lay still, laughing to himself. In just a few minutes his father would know. His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body. The minutes were endless -- ten, fifteen, he did not know how many -- and he heard his father's footsteps again. The door opened and he lay still. "Rob!"

            "Yes, Dad--"

            His father was laughing, a queer sobbing sort of laugh. "Thought you'd fool me, did you?" His father was standing by his bed, feeling for him, pulling away the cover.

            "It's for Christmas, Dad!"

            He found his father and clutched him in a great hug. He felt his father's arms go around him. It was dark and they could not see each other's faces.

            "Son, I thank you. Nobody ever did a nicer thing--"

            "Oh, Dad, I want you to know -- I do want to be good!" The words broke from him of their own will. 

            He did not know what to say. His heart was bursting with love.

            He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree. Oh what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he, Rob, had got up all by himself. "The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live."

            He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree. Oh what a Christmas, and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he, Rob, had got up all by himself. "The best Christmas gift I ever had, and I'll remember it, son every year on Christmas morning, so long as I live."

            This Christmas he wanted to write a card to his wife and tell her how much he loved her, it had been a long time since he had really told her, although he loved her in a very special way, much more than he ever had when they were young. He had been fortunate that she had loved him. Ah, that was the true joy of life, the ability to love. Love was still alive in him, it still was. It occurred to him suddenly that it was alive because long ago it had been born in him when he knew his father loved him. That was it: Love alone could awaken love. And he could give the gift again and again.This morning, this blessed Christmas morning, he would give it to his beloved wife. He could write it down in a letter for her to read and keep forever. He went to his desk and began his love letter to his wife: My dearest love...

            Such a happy, happy Christmas! 

THE END

Recommended Song: The Nativity Song

December Fifteenth

The Second Coming

"And the saints that are upon the earth, who are alive, 

shall be quickened and be caught up to meet him. 

And they who have slept in their graves shall come forth, 

for their graves shall be opened; and they also shall be caught

 up to meet him in the midst of the pillar of heaven--They are Christ’s, 

the first fruits, they who shall descend with him first, 

and they who are on the earth and in their graves, 

who are first caught up to meet him; and all this by 

the voice of the sounding of the trump of the angel of God."

-Doctrine and Covenants 88:96-98

Rudolph, the 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 children'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?"              Bob May stole a glance across his shabby two room apartment. On a couch lay his young wife, Evelyn, racked with cancer. For two years she had been bedridden; for two years, all Bob's income and smaller savings had gone to pay for treatments and medicines. The terrible ordeal already had shattered two adult lives. Now Bob suddenly realized the happiness of his growing daughter was also in jeopardy. 

          As he ran his fingers through Barbara's hair, he prayed for some satisfactory answer to her question. Bob May knew only too well what it meant to be "different." As a child he had been weak and delicate. With the innocent cruelty of children, his playmates had continually goaded the stunted, skinny lad to tears. Later at Dartmouth, from which he was graduated in 1926, Bob May was so small that he was always being mistaken for someone's little brother. Nor was his adult life much happier.              Unlike many of his classmates who floated from college into plush jobs, Bob became a lowly copy writer for Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. Now at 33 Bob was deep in debt, depressed and sad. Although Bob did not know it at the time, the answer he gave the tousled haired child on his lap was to bring him to fame and fortune. It was also to bring joy to countless thousands of children like his own Barbara. 

          On that December night in the shabby Chicago apartment, Bob cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began to tell a story... "Once upon a time there was a reindeer named Rudolph, the only reindeer in the world that had a big red nose. Naturally people called him Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." 

          As Bob went on to tell about Rudolph, he tried desperately to communicate to Barbara the knowledge that, even though some creatures of God are strange and different, they often enjoy the miraculous power to make others happy. Rudolph, Bob explained, was terribly embarrassed by his unique nose. Other reindeer laughed at him; his mother and father and sister were mortified too. Even Rudolph wallowed in self pity. 

          "Well," continued Bob, "one Christmas Eve, Santa Claus got his team of husky reindeer - Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen ready for their yearly trip around the world. The entire reindeer community assembled to cheer these great heroes on their way. But a 39 terrible fog engulfed the earth that evening, and Santa knew that the mist was so thick he wouldn't be able to find any chimneys. Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever. Santa sensed at once that here was the answer to his perplexing problem. He led Rudolph to the front of the sleigh, fastened the harness and climbed in. They were off! Rudolph guided Santa safely to every chimney that night. Rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph, for his bright nose penetrated the mist like a beacon. And so it was that Rudolph became the most famous and beloved of all the reindeer. The huge red nose he once hid in shame was now the envy of every buck and doe in the reindeer world. Santa Claus told everyone that Rudolph had saved the day and from that Christmas, Rudolph has been living serenely and happy." 

          Little Barbara laughed with glee when her father finished. Every night she begged him to repeat the tale until finally Bob could rattle it off in his sleep. Then, at Christmas time he decided to make the story into a poem like "The Night Before Christmas" and prepare it in bookish form illustrated with pictures, for Barbara's personal gift. Night after night, Bob worked on the verses after Barbara had gone to bed for he was determined his daughter should have a worthwhile gift, even though he could not afford to buy one... Then as Bob was about to put the finishing touches on Rudolph, tragedy struck. Evelyn May died. 

          Bob, his hopes crushed, turned to Barbara as chief comfort. Yet, despite his grief, he sat at his desk in the quiet, now lonely apartment, and worked on "Rudolph" with tears in his eyes. Shortly after Barbara had cried with joy over his handmade gift on Christmas morning, Bob was asked to an employee's holiday party at Montgomery Wards. He didn't want to go, but his office associates insisted. 

          When Bob finally agreed, he took with him the poem and read it to the crowd. First the noisy throng listened in laughter and gaiety. Then they became silent, and at the end, broke into spontaneous applause. That was in 1938. 

          By Christmas of 1947, some 6,000,000 copies of the booklet had been given away or sold, making Rudolph one of the most widely distributed books in the world. The demand for Rudolph sponsored products, increased so much in variety and number that educators and historians predicted Rudolph would come to occupy a permanent place in the Christmas legend. 

          Through the years of unhappiness, the tragedy of his wife's death and his ultimate success with Rudolph, Bob May has captured a sense of serenity. And as each Christmas rolls around he recalls with thankfulness the night when his daughter, Barbara's questions inspired him to write the story.

Recommended Song: The First Noel

December Sixteenth

Jesus, the Christ

"For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you.

 A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another;

 as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. 

By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, 

if ye have love one to another"

-John 13:15, 34, 35

The Old Blue Bike

-Joel R. Bryan New Era, Dec 1984, 29

          Rebuilt with love. Would it be accepted the same way?

          It was a Christmas when my three older sisters were 12, 10, and 7 just after my father, a young engineer, had accepted a transfer from Schenectady, New York, to Los Angeles, California. On Christmas Eve, my mother made preparations for the traditional Christmas dinner the next afternoon. My sisters took turns trying to keep me and my three-year-old brother from playing baseball with the shining Christmas tree ornaments. Mother found time to tend our new baby sister.

          Amid the bustle of the Christmas Eve excitement, my father was preoccupied. His thoughts kept returning to the used bicycle hidden carefully in the garage rafters. Next to it lay the boxes holding two brand-new, shining black, matching three-speed bikes which he had purchased for my two older sisters. The budget strains of Christmas had prevented Dad from buying a third black three-speed for Leanne. Instead, he set about restoring the old single-speed, fat-tired bike the older two no longer rode. Scouring pads and elbow grease made the rusty spokes shine. The inner tubes were patched, and a new coat of paint erased the battle scars of collisions and neglect. A replacement set of handgrips made the handlebars look almost new.

          My father realized Leanne would probably recognize the old war horse, but he was sure she could be happy just having her own bike. And in a year or two, when she outgrew this one, he would be able to buy her a brand-new one. Leanne had already received a big share of hand-me-downs from her older sisters. Many of her clothes, toys, and books had been previously used.

          This Christmas Eve, as my mother tucked all of us in bed, Dad commenced his marathon toy and bicycle assembly projects. When he finished the new, black bicycles, he placed them side by side near the Christmas tree. He then carefully rolled out and placed the rejuvenated old bike next to the new ones. The stark contrast of the old half-sized, blue, thick-tubed bike against the sleek, black beauties made the revamped two-wheeler suddenly look small and old-fashioned. Dad reconsidered. Had he made a mistake in trying to redo the old bike for Leanne? Would she feel slighted? Leanne was too young to understand the economics of family finances, but she would be quick to spot this injustice perpetrated by Santa Claus: new bikes for her sisters, the old war horse for her.

          A gradual panic swept over Dad as he realized he’d slipped up. Better run to the store and buy a matching bike, quick! But on Christmas Eve? It was already 11:30 p.m., and the stores would probably be closed. A few hurried telephone calls confirmed the worst. Everything was closed.

          My grandmother, who was visiting for the holidays, tried to comfort Dad. “Don’t worry, Ray. She’ll love the bike. You’ve made it look just like new.”

          Dad was not comforted. He kept imagining the disappointed look on Leanne’s face as she recognized the old hand-me-down. Though it was very late when he finished the last stocking and exhausted as he was from his assembly projects, Dad did not sleep well that night.

          Early Christmas morning, we were poised in our annual positions in the hall—all in a row, youngest to the oldest. It was still dark outside, but we were already hopping with that special excitement of children on Christmas morning. Dad was in the living room making the movie camera and lights ready to record our grand entrance. Finally he yelled, “Okay, come on in,” and we blazed through the doorway like a shot. In a matter of minutes, the beautiful array of packages and ornaments was transformed into a mountain of strewn boxes, wrappings, and ribbons. My older sisters spotted their black beauties, gave them the once over with due praise and admiration, and moved on to the Christmas tree to locate more presents. Amid the chaos and clutter, Leanne stood firmly next to the old blue bike. She was touching every part and talking aloud, “Look, it has new grips and new paint! A brand-new seat! Just look at those pedals, and it’s my very own, my very own bike.”

          Leanne didn’t seem to notice there were other presents for her under the tree. She stayed near the bike and repeated the same speech several times, though no one was listening, no one, that is, except my father. He stood silently on the other side of the room, oblivious to the rest of the children, the movie camera held low at his side, listening to Leanne. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he witnessed this perfect acceptance of his imperfect gift.

          It has been a long time since the black beauties were worn out and discarded. Even the old war horse was sent to the glue factory years ago. But the image of my father’s tearstreaked face on Christmas Day reminds me still of the warmth of a Christmas gift well given and well received.

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