Christmas Tree: http://www.xoospace.com/myspace/graphics/10644.gif
Poor?
Dear Lord, I'm feeling down today,
The bills are stacked up high;
With Christmas just two weeks away,
Our bank account's run dry.
The kids have all presented lists
Of things they want to see;
I hope and pray there's nothing missed
Beneath our Christmas tree.
But I don't have the money for
Expensive clothes and toys;
My credit card can't take much more,
Lord, where's my Christmas joy?
Perhaps it's wrapped up in that hug
My daughter gave this morn;
Or stacked with wood my son did lug
To keep us nice and warm.
Perhaps it's in my oldest's eyes
When he comes home on break,
And sees I've baked those pumpkin pies
He wanted me to make.
Perhaps it's in the tired lines
Around my husband's eyes;
Perhaps in love that's grown with time
I've found the greater prize.
A friend who gives a hearty smile,
And cupboards that aren't bare;
And, even if they aren't in style,
I've got some clothes to wear.
A family who believes in me
In all things great and small;
Dear God, I think I finally see -
I am not poor at all!
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May the season's peace
Wrap you in it arms,
May its joy dance in your heart
And may its love fill your life,
Now, and throughout
the New Year.
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It was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of
us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, "God Bless Us, Every One!
--Charles Dickens
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Dear Editor
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, If you see it in The Sun, it is so. Please tell me the truth, is
there a Santa Claus?
Virginia OHanlon
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think
that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men or children, are little. In this great
universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence
capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to
your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no
Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in
sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas
eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign
that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on
the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable
in the world.
You tear apart the babys rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor
even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and
view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is no
thing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to
make glad the heart of childhood.
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Here comes Santa and he wants to say
Hope you have a great Christmas Day.
A day filled with happiness, joy and love,
With reverent thoughts of God up above.
A day to appreciate the life that we live,
Not just to think of the gifts that we give.
We have hurried and scurried til the shopping was done.
Now to relax and enjoy the fun.
Little ones waiting for Santa with glee.
A wonderful thing for the grown-ups to see.
Hug them and love them and tell them good night.
They will wake in the morning with eyes shining bright.
Early -- too early -- they willll head for the tree.
But, oh what a joy for you and for me.
Merry Christmas to all and the ones you hold dear.
May your day be filled with warm Christmas cheer.
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Attitude of Gratitude
If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep... you are richer than 75% of this world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace... you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.
If you woke up this morning with good health you are more fortunate than the million who will not survive this week.
If you have never experienced the danger of battle unfolding all around you, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of
starvation... you are ahead 500 million people in the world.
If you can attend a church meeting without fear of persecution, harassment, arrest, torture, or death... you are more blessed than three billion
people in the world.
If your parents are still alive and still married...you are very fortunate and a member of a small minority.
If you can read this message, you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world that cannot read at all.
Count your blessings!
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Contentment is not the fulfillment of what you want, but the realization of how much you already have.
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Dear Lord, I've been asked, nay commanded, to thank Thee for the Christmas turkey before us... a turkey which was no doubt a lively, intelligent
bird... a social being... capable of actual affection... nuzzling its young with almost human- like compassion. Anyway, it's dead and we're gonna eat
it. Please give our respects to its family...
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The parent who gets down on the floor to play with a child on Christmas Day is usually doing a most remarkable thing -- something seldom repeated
during the rest of the year. These are, after all, busy parents committed to their work or their success in the larger society, and they do not have
much left-over time in which to play with their children.
*********************************THOUGHTS for the NEW YEAR
The things a person wants, and the things that will make that person happy, are hardly ever the same things
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A Brave and Startling Truth
By Maya Angelou
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in
foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it
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