John 1:4
In him was life; and the life was the light of men.
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Some gifts you can give this Christmas are beyond monetary value: Mend a quarrel, dismiss suspicion, tell someone, "I love you." Give something away--anonymously. Forgive someone who has treated you wrong. Turn away wrath with a soft answer. Visit someone in a nursing home. Apologize if you were wrong. Be especially kind to someone with whom you work. Give as God gave to you in Christ, without obligation, or announcement, or reservation, or hypocrisy.
- Charles Swindoll
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Tip: Turn the lights off and eat by candlelight and Christmas lights. For some extra dazzle, take a clear string of lights and wrap it around the centerpiece on the table. Make sure you unplug it when you're finished.
Bonus tip: Replace a few light bulbs in your lamps with colored bulbs. Red lends a cheery glow, while blue or green is very mellow.
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Christmas Is
lyrics by Mark Harris
performed by Mark and Maddison Harris
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoV8i2xPi1w
video with lyrics
Fireside, winter snow
Lights are on the tree
The world is all aglow again
With all the season brings
And though it comes around we cheer
The meaning of the season sometimes disappears
Oh it’s good to be reminded
Christmas is for girls and boys
Trimming trees and Santa’s toys
For Mom and Dad
Gram and Grandpa too
Christmas is a sacred birth
A chance for hope and peace on earth
Everything that we hold dear and true
Cause most of all
Christmas is the love that lives inside of me and you
Sleepy eyes are open wide
And tiny hearts beat fast
To celebrate the morning just like every Christmas past
We gather close to family
Embracing all that’s been and all that’s yet to be
Oh it’s good to be reminded
Christmas is the candle light
Jingle bells and silent night
Friends from long ago and
friends you’ve made anew
Christmas is a sacred birth
A chance for hope and peace on earth
Everything that we hold dear and true
Cause most of all
Christmas is the love that lives inside of me and you
From where it all began
One night in Bethlehem
It reaches out to all of us
Reminds us once again
Christmas is for everyone
The greatest gift
The Father’s love
Christmas is a sacred birth
A chance for hope and peace on earth
It’s everything that we hold dear and true
Cause most of all
Christmas is the love that lives inside of me and you
Cause most of all
Christmas is the love that lives inside of me and you
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I found a geat recipe online for a super easy puff pastry treat. Here is the link:
https://www.halfbakedharvest.com/sweet-savory-cheesy-bacon-wrapped-puff-pastry-twist/
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Last spring, I went for my annual eye exam. I was really concerned because my eyesight was deteriorating. I didn’t feel safe driving in areas I was not familiar with. I couldn’t read the street signs, and I absolutely would NOT drive after dark. Almost every year, I had to get new glasses, they were always able to give me stronger lenses. This year was different. There were no stronger lenses. I could not drive. I could not read. I could not quilt or crochet. My world became very small. We scheduled cataract surgery this past summer, and I hoped for the best. I did not know what the best WAS. It had been so long since my vision had started deteriorating, that I didn’t realize what I’d lost. Suddenly I could see blades of grass! I could see individual leaves on trees! Ir was amazing. I could see colors! I didn’t realize that my vision had become almost monochromatic. The grass was green! My husband’s eyes were blue – they hadn’t faded. The roses in front of my house were yellow and red – vibrant red. I walked up to total strangers in the store and told them they wearing the most beautiful colors. Everywhere I looked, I saw beauty. Heavenly Father created the most incredible world. What does that have to do with my walk? I read in John today of a man who had been blind since birth, but Jesus restored his sight. I knew what it meant to have my physical sight restored, and thought how accurately the word’s “I once was blind, but now I see” applied to me. This scripture refers to spiritual blindness as well as physical, and I have worked today to find that same joy in my eyes being opened by the spirit ~~ Marilee
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I found this story years ago, and really enjoyed it, only in the story I read, the little girl lived in Italy rather than France. The story was inspired by a poem written by Thelia Thaxter and was originally published in the book, Good Stories for Great Holidays: Arranged for Story-telling and Reading Aloud, (copyright 1914).
Little Piccola
In the sunny land of France there lived many years ago a sweet little maid named Piccola. Her father had died when she was a baby, and her mother was very poor and had to work hard all day in the fields for a few sous. Little Piccola had no dolls and toys, and she was often hungry and cold, but she was never sad nor lonely.
What if there were no children for her to play with! What if she did not have fine clothes and beautiful toys! In summer there were always the birds in the forest, and the flowers in the fields and meadows,—the birds sang so sweetly, and the flowers were so bright and pretty!
In the winter when the ground was covered with snow, Piccola helped her mother, and knit long stockings of blue wool.
The snow-birds had to be fed with crumbs, if she could find any, and then, there was Christmas Day. But one year her mother was ill and could not earn any money. Piccola worked hard all the day long, and sold the stockings which she knit, even when her own little bare feet were blue with the cold. As Christmas Day drew near she said to her mother, “I wonder what the good Saint Nicholas will bring me this year. I cannot hang my stocking in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him. He will not forget me, I am sure.” “Do not think of it this year, my dear child,” replied her mother. “We must be glad if we have bread enough to eat.”
But Piccola could not believe that the good saint would forget her. On Christmas Eve she put her little wooden patten on the hearth before the fire, and went to sleep to dream of Saint Nicholas.
As the poor mother looked at the little shoe, she thought how unhappy her dear child would be to find it empty in the morning, and wished that she had something, even if it were only a tiny cake, for a Christmas gift. There was nothing in the house but a few sous, and these must be saved to buy bread.
When the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe.
Saint Nicholas had come in the night. He had not forgotten the little child who had thought of him with such faith.
See what he had brought her. It lay in the wooden patten, looking up at her with its two bright eyes, and chirping contentedly as she stroked its soft feathers.
A little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down to the room, and had crept into the shoe for warmth.
Piccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast.
She ran to her mother’s bedside. “Look, look!” she cried. “A Christmas gift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!” And she danced again in her little bare feet.
Then she fed and warmed the bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter long; teaching it to take crumbs from her hand and her lips, and to sit on her shoulder while she was working.
In the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived in the woods near by all summer, and came often in the early morning to sing its sweetest songs at her door.
