My blogs is going crazy with the bells again. I'm sorry. I can't figure out how to get rid of them, so please consider them part of the wallpaper ~~ Marilee
1 Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
2 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.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.” – Fred Rogers
~*~*~*~*~*~
I Wonder As I Wander
Barbra Streisand
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky
How Jesus the Savior, did come for to die
For poor orn'ry people like you and like I
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky.
When Mary birthed Jesus, t'was in a cow'stall
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all
And high from God’s heaven a starlight did fall
And the promise of ages, it then did recall
If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing
A star in the sky or a bird on the wing
Or all of God’s angels in heaven to sing
He surely could've had it, 'cause he was the king
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky
I wonder as I wander
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky
How Jesus the Savior, did come for to die
For poor orn'ry people like you and like I
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
~*~*~*~*~*~
Holiday Recipe
Bacon breakfast casserole
from Kate
5 eggs
1/2 cup milk
3 cups of frozen hashbrowns, thawed
1/3 c. greens onion, sliced
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
1 1/2 cups mild cheddar cheese, divided
8 slices cooked bacon (or 1 cup diced ham), divided
Combine the hashbrowns, green onions, salt, pepper, 1 cup of cheese and 7 slices cooked & crumbled bacon
Pour egg and milk mixture over hashbrown mixture in a bowl and stir to combine. Pour into a 9 inch pie shape baking dish
Top with remaining 1/2 cup cheddar cheese and crumbled bacon
Bake at 350° for 35-40 minutes uncovered, or until casserole is set when you try and wiggle it and a toothpick comes out “clean”. Let the breakfast casserole sit for 5 minutes or so to let it harden up a bit.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Holiday Decorations to make.
At our church Christmas party, last night, there were many of these beautiful snowflakes on the walls. The instructions are found at How Do You Make Paper Snowflakes (mykidstime.com)
Christmas Pickle Story #3
Yet another story, based on a medieval tale, is often told in Berrien Springs, Michigan. Berrien Springs has been recognized as the Capital of the world for the Christmas Pickle, celebrating with an annual pickle festival during the first part of December. The tale has it that St. Nicholas saved 2 Spanish boys. They went to boarding school and were going home for the holidays. On their way home, they stayed at an inn, where the evil innkeeper killed them and placed them in a pickle barrel. St. Nicholas found the boys in the barrel when he stopped at the same inn, and he brought them back to life.
~*~*~*~*~*~
I heard today’s story, The Man Who Missed Christmas, as a child. It really impacted me then and still does. We have talked about light and the importance of reflecting the light of Christ as it touches our life. This story deals with another characteristic of light – Absorption. Well, actually it talks about 2, but we’ll talk about absorption first, then the other tomorrow. When an object absorbs the light around it, it takes in everything and releases back nothing. Some people take in everything they’re given and return nothing. George Mason has a life filled with “things” important to him, but not with people. We need to reach out and share the light of Christ with those around us. ~~ Marilee
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Man Who Missed Christmas
by J. Edgar Park (c) 1956
It was Christmas Eve; and, as usual, George Mason was the last to leave the office. He walked over to a massive safe, spun the dials, swung the heavy door open. Making sure the door would not close behind him, he stepped inside.
A square of white cardboard was taped just above the topmost row of strongboxes. On the card a few words were written. George Mason stared at those words, remembering…..
Exactly one year ago he had entered this self- same vault. And then, behind his back, slowly, noiselessly, the ponderous door swung shut. He was trapped—entombed in the sudden and terrifying dark.
He hurled himself at the unyielding door, his hoarse cry sounding like an explosion. Through his mind flashed all the stories he had heard of men found suffocated in time vaults. No clock controlled this mechanism; the safe would remain locked until it was opened from the outside. Tomorrow morning.
Then realization hit him. No one would come tomorrow—tomorrow was Christmas.
Once more he flung himself at the door, shouting wildly, until he sank on his knees exhausted. Silence came, high-pitched, singing silence that seemed deafening. More than thirty-six hours would pass before anyone came—thirty-six hours in a steel box three feet wide, eight feet long, seven feet high. Would the oxygen last? Perspiring and breathing heavily, he felt his way around the floor. Then, in the far right-hand corner, just above the floor, he found a small circular opening. Quickly he thrust his finger into it and felt, faint but unmistakable, a cool current of air.
The tension release was so sudden that he burst into tears. But at last he sat up. Surely he would not have to stay trapped for the full thirty- six hours. Somebody would miss him. But who? He was unmarried and lived alone. The maid who cleaned his apartment was just a servant; he had always treated her as such. He had been invited to spend Christmas Eve with his brother’s family; but the children got on his nerves and expected presents.
A friend had asked him to go to a home for elderly people on Christmas Day and play the piano— George Mason was a good musician. But he had made some excuse or other; he had intended to sit at home, listening to some new recordings he was giving himself.
George Mason dug his nails into the palms of his hands until the pain balanced the misery in
his mind. Nobody would come and let him out, nobody, nobody, nobody…
Miserably the whole of Christmas Day went by, and the succeeding night.
On the morning after Christmas the head clerk came into the office at the usual time, opened the safe, then went on into his private office. No one saw George Mason stagger out into the corridor, run to the water cooler, and drink great gulps of water. No one paid any attention to him as he left and took a taxi home.
Then he shaved, changed his wrinkled clothes, ate breakfast and returned to his office where his employees greeted him casually.
That day he met several acquaintances and talked to his own brother. Grimly, the truth closed
in on George Mason. He had vanished from human society during the great festival of brotherhood; no one had missed him at all.
Reluctantly, George Mason began to think about the true meaning of Christmas. Was it possible that he had been blind all these years with selfishness, indifference, pride? Was not giving, after all, the essence of Christmas because it marked the time God gave His son to the world?
All through the year that followed, with little hesitant deeds of kindness, with small, unnoticed acts of unselfishness, George Mason tried to prepare himself….
Now, once more, it was Christmas Eve.
Slowly he backed out of the safe, closed it. He touched its grim steel face lightly, almost affectionately, and left the office.
There he goes now in his black overcoat and hat, the same George Mason as a year ago. Or is it? He walks a few blocks, then flags a taxi, anxious not to be late. His nephews are
expecting him to help them trim the tree. Afterwards, he is taking his brother and his sister-in-law to a Christmas play. Why is he so happy? Why does this jostling against others, laden as he is with bundles, exhilarate and delight him?
Perhaps the card has something to do with it, the card he taped inside his office safe last New Years’ Day. On the card is written, in George Mason’s own hand:
“To love people, to be indispensable somewhere, that is the purpose of life. That is the secret of happiness.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment