Good Sabbath

 

"A little child, a shining star, a stable rude, the door ajar. Yet in that place, so crude, forlorn, the Hope of all the world was born."

THE ANGEL'S SONG
by Alice E. Workman <wng@accces.com>

Christmas, to me, has always been a celebration of one of the holiest events in the history of the world. My rejoicings on this occasion often take the form of music -- the language of the gods. One year, in
particular, brought me the realization of just how "near to the angels" the language of music really is.

I have always loved the song, O Holy Night, though my limited vocal range prevents me from being able to sing it either fully or well. So I did
not hesitate to say yes when a dear friend asked me to accompany her on the piano while she sang this song during our Sunday services.

Of course, no good ever comes to pass without opposition. The night before the performance, she became ill, and was so hoarse that she could hardly sing a note. I, too, was having difficulty; I had injured my arm and the pain made it difficult for me to play the familiar song. As we practiced, it became all too clear that without divine intervention, this was not going to work.

So we prayed. Oh, how we prayed! We prayed together vocally that night, and continued praying both aloud and in our hearts from the time we separated until the time came for us to perform. We knew that music posesses the power to uplift the soul, and to draw hearts nearer to God, and we knew that only God's power could enable us to perform. Through prayer, we expressed our faith that God could grant us this miracle.

When it came time for the performance, I thought, "Well, we've done all we could. We've practice and we've prayed, and now it is in God's hands." So, with the swellings of a prayer still in my heart, I began to play. In the beginning, I could hear that her voice was slightly clearer than it had been, but still strained. Then suddenly her voice changed. It became clearer, and richer in tone. It was so beautiful, and so different than I had ever heard her sing before, that it startled me, and I had to fight to keep my concentration.

As the song continued, my pain grew. Halfway through the song, my muscles rebelled and I missed playing several measures before I could
recover. I shook my head in frustration, thinking, "Here she is singing more beautifully than ever before, and I have to go and ruin it."

After the meeting, her husband approached me in the foyer. He commented on what a lovely performance it was, then asked me, "Why did you shake your head like that?"

"Why, because I couldn't keep playing -- I messed up."

"I didn't hear anything wrong," he said. No one had.

I marveled at this, and also that my friend had sang so well despite her illness. Why, I wondered, had she never sung like this before?

When I approached her about it, she tearfully (and in a voice that was, once again, hoarse) told me that she had never experienced anything like it in her life. "I felt like I was standing back watching someone else sing," she said.

God had granted our miracle, and infused us with the warmth of His love. I will always remember that feeling and stand as a witness that the angels, still, rejoice and sing of the birth of our Savior, as they did that night in Bethlehem, so many years ago.

Extracted from:

https://myfavoritechristmasstories.blogspot.com/2009/06/angels-song.html

Lost in scriptures

Christmas is not just a day, an event to be observed and speedily forgotten. It is a spirit which should permeate every part of our lives.
- William Parks

~*~*~*~

Hallelujah

performed by Bethel

The Christmas Hallelujah HD With Lyrics - YouTube

click on the title, then click on youtube link.

I've heard about this baby boy

Who's come to earth to bring us joy

And I just want to sing this song to you

Immanuel has come to earth

The virgin Mary given birth

Into a world that sings out Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

A couple came to Bethlehem

Expecting child, they searched the inn

To find a place for You were coming soon

There was no room for them to stay

So in a manger filled with hay

God's only Son was born, oh Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

The shepherds left their flocks by night

To see this baby wrapped in light

A host of angels led them all to You

It was just as the angels said

You'll find Him in a manger bed

Immanuel and Savior, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

A star shown bright up in the east

To Bethlehem, the wisemen three

Came many miles and journeyed long for You

And to the place at which You were

Their frankincense and gold and myrrh

They gave to You and cried out Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I know You came to rescue me

This baby boy would grow to be

A man and one day die for me and you

My sins would drive the nails in You

That rugged cross was my cross, too

Still every breath You drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

~*~*~*~

Recipe

FRENCH NOUGAT

3 c. powdered sugar

1 c. almonds, toasted, chopped

Coat a wooden spoon, the insides of a medium saucepan, and a cake or loaf pan with PAM. Set aside.

Place the sugar in a 3 - quart saucepan and place on medium heat. Slowly stir until it begins to melt (caramelize). This gets very hot and may take many minutes. When completely melted stir in the almonds and pour onto the prepared cookie sheet. Fold edges towards the center. When cool enough to handle, butter fingers, and divide into 4 equal pieces. Roll under palm into ropes until almost cool. Cut into smaller pieces. Store in airtight container.

~*~*~*~

I spent much of yesterday, lost in scriptures about Jesus. I’m going to share just a few of my favorite.

1 John 4:16 And we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.

John 14:6 6Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

Proverbs 8:35  For whoso findeth me findeth life, and shall obtain favor of the Lord 

Acts 2:38 - Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.

1 John 4:19 - We love him, because he first loved us.

There are many, many more wonderful scriptures. I hope you found joy in searching them. The scriptures are filled with wonderful stories. There are sad stories, stories which make our heads shake, and stories which fill our hearts with joy. Todays’ assignment has to do with stories, Do the 12 Days of Christmas with someone, only use stories or scripture with them. I have a collection I've put together called the 12 scriptures of Christmas. It has my favorite scriptures and a story to go with each. Send me a message, and I will share it with you. ~~ Marilee

~*~*~*~

My stories today, are wonderful stories from friends and family about what Christmas means to them. If you want to share your story, please do so in the comments, or send it to me and I will place it on my blog.

Brent (a dear friend, a rough and tough cowboy with the tenderest heart you’ll ever know)

The Christmas after our daughter was born stands out in my memory as my best Christmas ever. My business closed and I found work in southern Arizona. We moved our trailer there, set it up and then immediately drove for 3 hours to Mesa to spend Christmas with my family. We had no money for gifts of any kind–none at all. Our gift to each other and to our family was to tell each member how we felt about them. The words we exchanged that night and the love we felt for each other will always be in my heart.

This story is from my sweet daughter-in-law, Emily. She wrote this for me in 2007.

As Christmas draws close, I have had the opportunity to reflect back on the 22 years I have enjoyed the spirit of this season. Admittedly, I don’t remember all 22; however, there is one Christmas I can never forget. I was nine years old, and all I knew of Christmas was Santa Clause, Christmas trees, and brightly wrapped presents.

A week before Christmas, my siblings and I invited some of our neighborhood friends over for a sleepover. I clearly remember huddling in our pajamas and sleeping bags in our dark front room. Our Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, casting its warm glow across six huddled figures. We sat close, and whispered our excitement over the impending holiday.

At one point the conversation shifted from our Christmas wish list, to the true spirit of the holiday. One of my dear friends expressed her gratitude for the birth of Christ and his redeeming sacrifice. I remember being surprised and confused by her comment. She watched as a questioning glance passed between my siblings and I. Although she was only 7 years old at the time, she caught the exchange and puzzled she asked, "You DO know the true meaning of Christmas don’t you? About Jesus Christ?" I must admit, I was quite ashamed to admit, that I didn’t understand what she meant. The name ‘Jesus Christ’ sounded vaguely familiar, and of course I had seen the beautiful nativity my grandparents displayed each year. Yet no one had ever taken the time to explain the meaning behind it. The nativity had become just another decoration, much like any other décor you might display during the Christmas season.

Intrigued by my young friend’s question I asked her to explain it. Over the next hour, the story of the Christ Child’s birth was lovingly and accurately portrayed. I remember sitting, enraptured, on the edge of my seat. With bated breath, I absorbed every precious word. I remember thinking, "Wow, how could he love me so much? He doesn’t know me, we have never met, yet he died that I might live?" When she was finished I cried. I can never put into words to beautiful spirit that filled our living room that evening. It was my first introduction to the gospel, it made a powerful impression upon my young mind and to this day it remains a sweet and precious memory.

That Christmas, I gained my first knowledge of the gospel, knowledge of the savior, knowledge of his redeeming love and the gift he gave to all mankind. Understanding the ‘true meaning of Christmas’ has not only changed the way I view the Christmas season, but also planted a mustard seed that would lead me down a life altering path. During this Christmas season, may the spirit of Christ’s love fill your hearts and homes!!!

Thank you, Donna, for giving permission to use your story, Mama’s Treasured Recipes. Donna’s information follows the story.

 

MAMA'S TREASURED RECIPES

by Donna Hunter Churchwell Glenn

I'm sure when mama put up her pear preserves in the summer of 2003, she didn't realize at that time she wouldn't live another year to make more.

Nor did she probably realize either just how really special those pear preserves were going to be today. Or maybe she did.

What makes them so special is because my mama made them. And having them around to eat makes me feel like my mama never left us because I'm still enjoying her cooking. Nothing tastes better in a homemade, hot, buttered biscuit than my mama's pear preserves.

But now that I'm on the last jar of her preserves, I'm not eating them up so fast. I'm slowing down to savor, to cherish the last bit of pear preserves. For when that last jar is gone, so probably will the feeling I get when I eat them.

Mama was not only famous for her pear preserves but she was famous for her Christmas fruitcake, too. I was never crazy about fruitcake because I really hated those little cherried fruit pieces that were in it. So when mama made her batch of Christmas fruitcakes, she'd always slice me a piece whether I wanted it or not and serve it to me with a cup of coffee when I visited with her and my dad. I'd always eat around the fruit and eat the nuts and the breading. But when mama died in December 2004, there were no more famous fruitcakes that Christmas or the next Christmas after that. I missed my mama's Christmas fruitcake.

One day, during Thanksgiving holidays in 2006, while visiting with my dad I happened to come across my mom's recipe tin in her pantry. She had volumes of recipe books, loose recipe clippings from magazines and recipes shared from friends. But finding the recipe tin was like finding a treasure chest. It held mama's most beloved and treasured recipes.

I brought the recipe tin to the table, sat down and started sifting through each recipe. There were many recipes handwritten by her and by my grandma who had died 12 years before.

In that treasure trove I found grandma's famous recipe for "Pot dodgers." I'm not sure if that recipe was one that my grandma created from scratch or not but when I mention the word "pot dodger" around others, I always get the same question: "A what?"

It happens to be a patty made of cornmeal and water and boiled in the juice of turnip greens. Maybe to others they're called something else but I grew up enjoying them simply known as "pot dodgers."

As I dug deeper, I found my mama's famous Christmas fruitcake recipe. Ker-ching! Bless my sweet little heart! I had hit the recipe jackpot!

I took the recipe tin back home with me and immediately wrote out a shopping list of items I would need to make the Christmas fruitcake. On the list was cherried fruit, of course. The first grocer I shopped at didn't have cherried fruit. So I shopped at other grocers until I found cherried fruit. I couldn't believe I was shopping for something that I hated for so long. But alas, I found it and put several containers of it in my cart.

As I checked out at the register, I realized the expenses she had in making those Christmas fruitcakes. She didn't make just one fruitcake -- she'd make about a dozen at one time to share with friends and family.

I also had to buy cheese cloth and bourbon. The cheese cloth was soaked with bourbon and then wrapped around each fruitcake to add its warm flavoring. Then each fruitcake was wrapped tightly in aluminum foil and placed in a cool, dry, dark place for a few weeks to ferment.

After the preparations, I realized how much time, money and love she had placed into each of those fruitcakes to share with her family and her friends.

A few weeks passed and it was time to sample the fruitcake. I was surprised at how much it tasted like her fruitcake but something still was missing -- my mama.

Maybe unbeknownst to her, she did more than make preserves that day. She paved tradition. She ensured memories. She preserved her warmth and her love for her family.

In every bite of pear preserves and every recipe in her recipe tin, her memory continues to warm our hearts and feed our bellies.

That was my mama -- always thinking ahead about her family.

-- Donna Hunter Glenn Donna.Glenn.ctr @ robins.af.mil

 

 

"Were it not for the shepherds, there would have been no reception. And were it not for a group of stargazers, there would have been no gifts." Max Lucado

~*~*~*~

Some Children See Him
written by Wihla Hutson & Alfred S. Burt (c)1951.
Performed by Kenny Rogers and Alison Krauss

Some Children See Him (feat. Alison Krauss) - YouTube

To get this link to work you need to push control and left click with your mouse at the same time.

Some children see Him lily white,
the baby Jesus born this night.
Some children see Him lily white,
with tresses soft and fair.
Some children see Him bronzed and brown,
The Lord of heav'n to earth come down.
Some children see Him bronzed and brown,
with dark and heavy hair.

Some children see Him almond-eyed,
this Savior whom we kneel beside.
some children see Him almond-eyed,
with skin of yellow hue.
Some children see Him dark as they,
sweet Mary's Son to whom we pray.
Some children see him dark as they,
and, ah! they love Him, too!

The children in each different place
will see the baby Jesus' face
like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace,
and filled with holy light.
O lay aside each earthly thing
and with thy heart as offering,
come worship now the infant King.
'Tis love that's born tonight!

~*~*~*~

RECIPE

DAD'S PEANUT BUTTER FUDGE

12 oz Peanut Butter Chips

14 oz. Sweetened Condensed Milk

1/4 C Butter, Divided

½ C Peanuts

6 Oz Semi-sweet Chocolate Chips

1 Dash Salt

Over low heat, melt peanut butter chips, 1 cup of condensed milk, and 2 tablespoonsl butter. Stir occasionally and when completely melted remove from heat. Stir in peanuts. Pour into a waxed paper lined 8 inch square pan. In a sauce pan, melt chocolate chips with remaining condensed milk, and butter. Add salt and stir to mix well. When completely melted, pour over peanut butter mix already in 8" sq. Pan. Chill at least two hours or until firm. Turn out onto cutting board and cut into squares. Makes 2 pounds of candy or about 36 pieces.

~*~*~*~

I had this morning all planned out. I was going to get up, make Dean his favorite apple muffins, hash browns and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Dean beat me out of bed. I got in the kitchen and he was making pancakes. Grrr.. My next move was to put a heating blanket on our bed. I know that doesn’t sound very charitable, but you see we don’t heat our bedroom, so it’s really cold when you first get in bed. I had this great idea, I’d put a heating blanket on it and turn it on about 15 minutes before we get in bed tonight, and he’d have a warm toasty bed to get into. Great idea, right? He came in and caught me at it and explained we don’t need a heating blanket. Guess what. He’s getting it anyway! I WILL COUNT IT! We’re not getting out much these days and I haven’t gone anywhere to do any charitable acts. Well, no where except for Physical Therapy. I volunteered to cut my time back on the upper cycle so another client could use it, but the Physical Therapist didn’t see that as a good option for me.. Hmmm…. Imagine that! What I have discovered is that I’ve been the recipient of many acts of charity today. My husband made breakfast and helped me with the bed. A friend dropped off a Christmas present for me. I got 3 cards in the mail, and waves and smiles from people seeing me in my car. Charity and Service is contagious. I hope it has brought you many smiles today. Tomorrows path will be to prepare to Do the 12 Days of Christmas with someone, only use stories or scripture trees with them. It should be fun to pick out 12 scriptures about the Savior and find stories to go with them ~~ Marilee

The most precious part of a Christmas gift
Is the love with which it is tied.
The part of a card that kindles stars
Is the friendliness tucked inside.
O it isn't the gifts or the money spent
That makes the Christ Child live
Not the Christmas cards, nor the carols sung
It's the bit of ourselves we give.

Emily Carey Allenson

The Gift by Aseling Debison

A poor orphan girl named Maria
Was walking to market one day
She stopped for a rest by the roadside
Where a bird with a broken wing lay
A few moments passed till she saw it
For it's feathers were covered with sand
But soon clean and wrapped it was traveling
In the warmth of Maria's small hand

She happily gave her last peso
On a cage made of rushes and twine
She fed it loose corn from the market
And watched it grow stronger with time

Now the Christmas Eve service was coming
And the church shone with tinsel and light
And all of the town folks brought presents
To lay by the manger that night
There were diamonds and incense
And perfumes
In packages fit for a king
But for one ragged bird, in a small cage
Maria had nothing to bring

She waited till just before midnight
So no one would see her go in
And crying she knelt by the manger
For her gift was unworthy of Him

Then a voice spoke to her through the darkness
Maria, what brings you to me
If the bird in the cage is your offering
Open the door and let me see
Though she trembled, she did as He asked her
And out of the cage the bird flew
Soaring up into the rafters
On a wing that had healed good as new

Just then the midnight bells rang out
And the little bird started to sing
A song that no words could recapture
Whose beauty was fit for a king

Now Maria felt blessed just to listen
To that cascade of notes sweet and long
As her offerings was lifted to heaven
By the very first nightingale' s song.

Love in Action

 

"Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it's Christmas." Dale Evans Rogers

~*~*~*~

This song is from Amy Grants Christmas album, “Christmas To Remember” While not a typical christmas song, it is a beautiful song about Our Savior’s love.

"Christmas Lullaby (I Will Lead You Home)"

written and performed by Amy Grant

Christmas Lullaby (I Will Lead You Home) - YouTube

Click on this, then click on the youtube link

Are you far away from home

This dark and lonely night

Tell me what best would help

To ease your mind

Someone to give

Direction for this unfamiliar road

Or one who says, "Follow me and

I will lead you home."

How beautiful

How precious

The Savior of old

To love so

Completely

The loneliest soul

how gently

how tenderly

He says to one and all,

"Child you can follow Me

And I will lead you home

Trust Me and follow Me

And I will lead you home."

Be near me, Lord Jesus

I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever

And love me I pray

Bless all the dear children

In Thy tender care

And take us to Heaven

To live with Thee there

Take us to Heaven

To live with Thee there

~*~*~*~

(A word of warning:  Today's blog deals with grieving and loss at Christmastime)

RECIPE

Chocolate Orange Fudge

Fudge is a holiday favorite throughout the south––some version are creamy and others are granular. This recipe makes a deliciously dense, grainy fudge.

2 c. fine granulated sugar

2 oz. unsweetened chocolate, chopped

2/3 c. heavy cream

1/4 t. salt

1 t. butter (unsalted)

1/3 c. finely chopped candies orange peel

Butter an 8-inch square glass baking dish. In a heavy 2-quart saucepan combine sugar, chocolate, cream, and salt and cook over moderate heat, stirring constantly, until sugar is dissolved and chocolate is melted. Cook mixture, without stirring until a candy thermometer registers 238EF. Remove pan from heat and add butter and orange peel, swirling pan without stirring. Cool fudge 5 minutes and beat with a wooden spoon until it just begins to lose its gloss (do not overbeat or fudge will seize). Pour fudge immediately into baking dish and cool 15 minutes, or until it begins to harden. Cut fudge into 1-inch squares and cool completely. Makes about 1 lb.

~*~*~*~

Make Christmas Special

My daughter, Gina, decided to make gingerbread houses with her 2 young sons. She bought kits at the craft store and came home excited to make a fun memory. It didn’t turn out quite as she hoped. The gingerbread pieces from the kits were broken. They couldn’t stick them together, not even with the frosting. The house segments ended up in the garbage, the boys were eating the candy and disaster reigned (at least according to Gina). Looking at the scene in pictures, I realized Gina missed something. The boys had plates which they fingerpainted Christmas trees on with frosting and then stuck candy on. What a great project! I’d love to hang one of those masterpieces on my refrigerator! I imagined what it would have been like if I could have been watching. It wouldn’t have made the mess less or changed anything, but it would have been shared. As we make memories this year, let’s remember to share them. Use SKYPE or FaceTime or Messenger and make some cookies together. Sing Carols. Drink a cup of hot chocolate together with all of your cousins, and it will become the “Remember the year that we had hot chocolate and doughnuts together for Christmas? That was fun”. The most special part of Christmas is the love we share.

~*~*~*~

I have to start this by saying that I am not a social worker. I don’t have any kind of college degree to back up what I’m about to say, but I do have 20 years of experience (through hospice work) of dealing with death and grieving. Christmas is not a time of joy for everyone. Perhaps their Christmas memories are of poverty, of abuse or loneliness. Perhaps their current memories are filled with pain. I have a good friend who lost her adult son to suicide this week, her heart is broken; and a niece who lost her much loved stepfather in November. Her mother and father have also passed in the last four years. Her best friend died unexpectedly 2 days ago. She feels so alone. What can we do? How can we help?

1). Say you’re sorry for their loss – it won’t change anything, but it lets them know someone cares.

2). Use their loved one’s name when you talk about them. Those people are very real to them, and they need to know that their loved one is remembered. It can be uncomfortable. You might not know what to say. You might be afraid to say the wrong thing. Well, you don’t have to say anything, just listen if they need to talk.

3. If you’re the one who is grieving, go ahead. Don’t let anyone tell you what you can or cannot do or think. Grief is intensely personal and it takes as long as it takes to come to terms with it. If, after 6 months, your grief is still as intense as when the loss occurred, then it might be time to get help.

4. Share a positive memory with them.

5 Encourage them to drink plenty of water and get exercise when possible. Volunteer to go for walks with them or to the gym.

5. Show Christlike love

Yesterday’s “assignment” to myself was to make a promise to Christ. I spent the day thinking of all the things I could promise Him. I did some real soul searching and made my promise. It will not be an easy one to keep, but it will be do-able. My challenge for tomorrow is to do charitable acts: to let someone in front of me in the checkout line, to do something special for Dean without him noticing, like putting away his clean laundry, or iron his shirts, or match his socks. That one will be a little more tricky because he has some socks that I can’t tell the difference between. He usually matches his own because I usually guess wrong and match the brown and green ones together.

~*~*~*~

"Until the end of time"
by Bob Perks

 

Off in the distance the old record player is stacked with the sounds of the very best of days gone by. One by one the lp's drop, skid into place, and the sounds of Christmas fill the room.

Perry Como, Frank Sinatra, Mel Torme and Ella Fitzgerald take turns serenading the old man as he opens the box marked "Christmas."

"It's not the same, but it is the best it can be considering."

"Considering what?" I ask.

"Considering the fact that my love is not with me," he says quietly.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas" he sings above the scratchy sounds of Perry Como.

If records are well before your time you would not appreciate this. But there are many who believe the purest sounds come from a 33 1/3 lp even with the scratches. You learn to tune them out.

He pulls the box a little closer, then resting his hands on it for a moment, almost like the laying on of hands at a prayer meeting, he pauses, then unties the string.

It appears that the string he used, like his dreams, is old, a little frayed and unraveled, but still serving a greater purpose.

Lifting the lid, he stops once more and gazes into the box.

"Ah, Christmas!" he says.

Like a surgeon, he places his hands gently, slowly into the box before him and carefully removes the contents placing it on the table.

Whatever this treasure may be, it is wrapped in plain brown paper.

Moving it side to side, he pulls and tugs until it is revealed.

"This, this is Christmas," he says.

Then lifting it up slightly above his head he looks underneath as if searching for something.

It is a classic old mantel clock.

"Oh, my friend that is beautiful!" I said. "Mahogany wood?"

He doesn't answer me.

He sat there lost in a place and time perhaps when you and I did not even exist. He held the clock, no embraced it like he was holding the most precious thing on earth.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I love this clock. It means the world to me," he said.

"I can tell," I reply. He smiles and glances back at me.

"This is Christmas," he whispers.

"May I ask why? Why do you see it as Christmas?"

He then went on to explain.

His wife had been very ill for some time. In the spring of that year she could no longer walk. By fall, her interest in things around her dimmed. Then with the approach of Christmas she seemed to rise above it all. Her husband thought that this was a sure sign that she would recover.

Just before Christmas she told him to go to the local store. He was to ask for the "Christmas Box" with her name on it. She made him promise not to open it nor ask what was inside.

He did and as requested he returned with the box in hand.

"Place it under the bed," she asked of him.

It was on that Christmas Eve that she presented him with the box. Now weakened from the cold dampness and the return of her symptoms, she could hardly make it through the night.

"Open it," she told him.

He untied the string, unwrapped the contents and read the small card inside.

"This is a symbol of my love for you...forever until the end of time."

She reached under the clock and removed a small key. Opening the front glass covering the face of the clock, she took the key and began to wind it. With all her strength she could only manage to turn the key a few times.

She carefully closed the door and laid her head on his shoulder.

"We fell asleep that way," he said to me.

The next morning, Christmas day, she was gone.

"With all her strength she could not manage to wind the clock completely.

It stopped just minutes short of midnight on Christmas day," he said.

Then turning toward where I was standing he said, "She loved me until the end of time, her time. I have never wound that clock again.

It holds Christmas, our last Christmas inside."

We sat together until the last record dropped.

How appropriate it was.

"I'm dreamin' tonight of a place I love,
Even more then I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you. I'll be home for Christmas ..."

May the most valuable gift you receive this Christmas be found not in a box, but in the hearts of those you love..."until the end of time."

"I believe in you!"
Bob Perks copyright 2007

I encourage you to share my stories but I do ask that you keep my name and contact information with my work.

If you would like to receive Bob's Inspirational stories, please visit http://www.IWishYouEnough.com and submit your email address

Measure of Creation

 

A little Child, A shining star, A stable rude, The door ajar.
Yet in that place, So crude, forlorn, The hope of all the world was born.

~*~*~*~

My mother loved this song.  Her favorite was Silver "Bells", but this came next I'm sure.  We watched a jazz Christmas program Sunday night and the singer mentioned Nat King Cole and did one of his songs.  I've been singing this one since.  

A Cradle in Bethlehem
written by Alfred Bryan and Larry Stock
performed by Nat King Cole
www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5EBVHnLUlE
musical

Sing sweet and low your lullaby
Till angels say, "Amen"
A mother tonight is rocking
A cradle in Bethlehem

While wise men follow through the dark
A star that beckons them
A mother tonight is rocking
A cradle in Bethlehem

"A little child shall lead them"
The Prophets said of old
In storm and tempest keep 'em
Until the bell is tolled

Sing sweet and low your lullaby
Till angels say, "Amen"
A mother tonight is rocking
A cradle in Bethlehem

Sing sweet and low your lullaby
Till angels say, "Amen"
A mother tonight is rocking
A cradle in Bethlehem

~*~*~*~

GAME NIGHT IDEAS

Foggy Night Game (at least six players)

A player is blindfolded and given a laundry basket with many small and some large objects. The task is to carry each package individually and place it in the bag of Santa. He is standing somewhere in the room calling "Rudolph". The other players are moving in the room calling other names–"Pinocchio," "Christopher Columbus,""Marco Polo" etc. The player who places the most packages in the bag after one minute wins.

Christmas Memory Tray

I’m sure that all of us who have ever gone to a baby shower have played this game, or one like it. Bring out a tray with Christmas items on it, let the players look at the items for 2 minutes, then take the tray away and the have the players writes down the items. The player with the most correct items wins. A variation, with young children is to put the items in a decorated box, and pass the box around, having everyone pull out an item until everything is out of the box, then put them all back in and have the children write down or tell someone what they saw.

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My walk was sidetracked by a migraine yesterday. It was a nasty one.

My Monday walk involved sending Christmas cards, with personal notes from our family, to the members of our church who are residents at the Care Center or the Assisted Living Center here in town. It’s been a tough, lonely year for them. They’ve been so alone, unable to have visitors. I really thought that would be a way to “feed his lambs”. Not knowing how many people were there from our church, I texted our bishop’s wife to find out and guess what? Not a single person from our ward is in either facility, so I called a friend from another church and asked her if she knew anyone. She was only aware of one person who was currently living there. I did a card for her. Because of privacy laws, the center couldn’t give me any names. I understand the importance of protecting their rights, but it was frustrating. I really wanted to do this. I wanted to brighten someone’s day. I’m still working on it, and hope that you had better success than me.

Yesterday’s assignment was to write a letter to a missionary or a member of the military. The migraine derailed me. I was temporarily off the tracks, but plan to get back on today.

I’ve thought about where my path might take me.  He's given me everything, so I decided to give Christ a gift from me. I’ll make Him a promise, and I'll keep it. ~~ Marilee

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Corn Flake Cookies (thank you for your recipe, Debbie)

1 c. granulated sugar

1 c. light corn syrup

½ t. salt

5 ½ c Cornflakes cereal.

Add Cornflakes to a large mixing bowl and set aside. Have ready large sheets of wax paper laid out across your work surface.

Add sugar and light corn syrup to a small or medium-sized saucepan. Bring to high heat and stir gently with a wooden spoon or spatula.

As soon as the mixture reaches a boil, remove it from the heat. Carefully, add the peanut butter and 1/2 teaspoon salt and stir until combined.

Pour the mixture over the cereal and gently stir until all of the cereal is coated. Working quickly, scoop mounds (about 2 heaping tablespoons) of the mixture and set on the wax paper. Sprinkle with a generous pinch of Kosher or Falk salt and allow to cool and set, about 25 minutes.

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Within My Walls

I was—oh, so old. My walls were thin, and between some of my boards were spaces that let in sunlight by day and the cool breezes by night. My only other source of sunlight was a massive door, held on by thick leather straps.

I stood behind a stately looking inn. For this I was glad. I was embarrassed because of my undignified appearance. I was created for a lowly purpose, for I was a stable.

The time of taxation had arrived. The stately inn was packed with people. All I held were a few cows.

Early this day my master had cleaned my floors and changed my straw. I prepared myself for the rough treatment the cattle always gave me, but to my surprise the cattle were very gentle. They all stood in one corner and ate very little of the straw. By the end of the day I still looked beautiful—for a stable.

Suddenly my door creaked open, letting in the night air, which I was trying so hard to keep out. There stood my master beside a tall, kindly looking man of those times.

“This will be fine, sir, “the stranger was saying, “but we must hurry.

My master bade them good night and left.” The stranger walked to the center of my floor, followed by a small donkey, which carried a woman. The man gently placed her on my fresh, clean straw. She was beautiful, but in great pain.

That night she gave birth to a child. She gave birth to the Son of God within my frail walls.

A star, brighter than all the rest, shone down upon me, upon me and the glorious scene that was there within my walls..

Even though my position in life has been a lowly stable, I have fulfilled the measure of my creation.
—Gary R. Hatch

This story appears on multiple sites, one of which was:

https://www.theideadoor.com/other-pages/stories-poems-quotes/christmas-themed-stories/within-my-walls/