And the Angel

 Luke 2:10-11

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

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“For centuries men have kept an appointment with Christmas. Christmas means fellowship, feasting, giving and receiving, a time of good cheer, home.”—William Jewett Tucker

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Many of You are familiar with Michael McLean's work "The Forgotten Carols".  This video uses that song.  It is a wonderful visual/audio treat.  I hope you will take the time to watch it.  is a beautiful video showing the shepherds and the night.  

The Shepherd - You Were Not There in Bethlehem

…

I knew that as the world moves on through time

There would be more stories just like mine

About the souls who've chosen to believe

In something that they never got to see

So do you think you'll join us, 

Though you've not seen a thing? 

You were not there in Bethlehem 

To hear the angels sing. 

But, if you feel the spirit in the air

Then just like me you'll know 

That He was here

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Candy Crack recipe

1 - 16 oz jar Salted peanuts

1 - 16 oz jar unsalted peanuts

1 - 12 oz bag semi-sweet chocolate chips

2 - 10 oz. bags peanut butter chips

2 pounds vanilla candy coating

Layer all ingredients in a 6 QT crockpot, starting with peanuts.

Turn the pot on low and cover with lid for 2 hours.

Stir well until fully combined.

Spoon mixture onto wax paper and allow to harden for 1 hour.

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I apologize for not having a blog entry yesterday.  I had computer problems and my mind was just too tired to fight my way through them.  I guess that happens to those of us who are more technically challenged than others.  Thank you for your supportive comments last night.  I appreciated them.  i was frustrated, but the joy is back.  Yesterday at church, we had 2 speakers who each talked about Christmas past and present.  As they were talking, I pictured myself sitting on a donkey or walking by its side on the road to Bethlehem.  Bethlehem was a small city and probably did not have many Inns located there.  Most people stayed with family when they traveled, but Bethlehem was filled with people who came to be counted and to be taxed.  There was no shelter, no roof overhead for Mary and Joseph.   Instead, a humble spot was found, away from the people and the congestion.  A place where Mary could deliver her baby and the shepherds could come to see Him.  I don't imagine they would have been welcomed in the Inn.  The night of His birth, that stable would have been filled with joy.  It did not matter the circumstances.  The only thing which mattered was the joy which filled the stable, the manger, Mary and Joseph, and the shepherds, and any others who came and saw their King.  I have included "Joseph's Song" by Michael Card several times, but once again, here is the link 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5RLChQZz-M

 I hope all goes well for each of you and that you know, regardless of the circumstances, joy is possible through Our lord and Savior Jesus Christ. ~~ Marilee

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THE EXPECTED GUEST

~ Anne Mccolum Boyles

There once lived in the city of Marseilles an old shoemaker, loved and honored by his neighbors, who affectionately called him Father Martin.  

One Christmas Eve as he sat alone in his little shop reading of the visit of the wise men to the infant Jesus, and of the gifts they brought, he said to himself: If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if this Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I know what I would give him!  He rose from his stool and took from a shelf overhead two tiny shoes of softest snow-white leather, with bright silver buckles. I would give him these, my finest work. Then he paused and reflected. But I am a foolish old man. The Master has no need of my poor gifts. 

Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired to rest. Hardly had he closed his eyes, it seemed, when he heard a voice call his name.  'Martin! Martin!' Intuitively he felt a presence. Then the voice spoke. 'You have wished to see me. Tomorrow I shall pass your window.  If you see me, and bid me enter, I shall be a guest at your table.' 

Father Martin did not sleep that night for joy. Before it was dawn, he rose and swept and tidied up his little shop. He spread fresh sand on the floor, and wreathed green boughs of fir along the rafters. On the spotless linen covered table he placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey and a pitcher of milk. When all was ready he took up his vigil at the window. Presently an old street sweeper passed by, blowing upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them. 'Poor fellow, he must be half frozen' he thought. 'Come in my friend and warm yourself and drink something hot.' And the man gratefully accepted. An hour passed and Martin saw a young, miserably clothed woman, carrying a baby. She paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his doorway. The heart of the old cobbler was touched. Quickly he flung open the door. 'Come in and warm while you rest. You do not look well.'

'I am going to the hospital. I hope they will take me in, and my baby boy. My husband is at sea and I am ill, without money.' 

'Poor child,' cried Martin. 'You must eat something while you are getting warm. No? Then let me give a cup of milk to the little one. Ah! What a bright pretty fellow he is! Why, you have put no shoes on him!'

'I have no shoes for him.' sighed the mother. 'Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished yesterday." And Martin took down from the shelf the soft little white shoes he had admired the night before. He slipped them on the child's feet ... they fit perfectly. And shortly the poor young mother went on her way, some coins in her hand and tearful with gratitude. And Martin resumed his post by the window. Hour after hour went by and although people passed his window, and many needy souls shared the hospitality of the old cobbler, the expected Guest did not appear. It was only a dream he sighed with heavy heart. I did hope and believe, but He has not come.

Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room was flooded with a strange light. And to the cobbler's astonished vision there appeared before him, one by one the poor street sweeper, the sick mother and child, and all the other people whom he had aided during the day. And  each smiled at him and said: 'have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?' And they vanished from view.

At last out of the silence Father Martin heard again the gentle voice repeating the old familiar words: 'Whosoever shall receive one such in my name, receiveth me ... for I was hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in ... inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it to me.'

Luke 2:8-9

 Luke 2:8-9 8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

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“I have always thought of Christmas time as a good time; a kind forgiving charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely and to think of other people as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. Therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, it has done me good and will do me good, and I say, God bless it!” from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

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This song is new to me this year. It's a beautiful song performed by children. I Loved it and hope you will too.

  If I Were There - Official Music Video

…

I was not there, but inside I know

That precious baby who came so long ago

Was Jesus Christ, Lord of heav'n and earth

I sing his praises as I celebrate His birth

If I were there, I'd find the manger

And bow before the tiny Savior

I'd sense the peace that filled the air

If I were there, if I were there

If I were there

Hot chocolate

6 c. whole milk

2 c. heavy cream

1//2 c. sugar

8 ounces semi sweet chocolate, chopped

¼ c. unsweetened cocoa powder

2 t. Vanilla extract

Place all ingredients into large slow cooker. Vigorously wish to get the cocoa powder as mixed in as possible. Keep whisking for a minute or 2. Cook on low for 6 hours. Make sure you whisk every 45 minutes to make sure the chocolate isn’t burning on the bottom. Serve warm with marshmallows, candy canes, whipped cream or other toppings.

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Yesterday we went to a Christmas concert performed by Nathan Pacheco. The concert was simplicity itself. Candles on the stage, a fabulous pianist, an incredible cellist, and Nathan. Wow! When I heard that cello, my heart sang. Everyone agreed the pianist was the best pianist in the world, just as the cellist was the best cellist in the world! Nathan's voice was vibrant and filled with joy! It ws so simple, so pure.  As the concert progressed, I thought about the importance of keeping Christmas simple and feeling joy. I thought of Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem.

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Jesus Is The Reason

In Bethlehem, God gave to us
The source of Christmas joy;
A star shown on a miracle:
The virgin birth of a boy.

He was born both God and man,
A Savior for us all,
The way to get to our heavenly home,
If we just heed His call.

So as we shop and spend and wrap
And enjoy the Christmas season,
Let’s keep in mind the sacred truth:
Jesus is the reason.
–Joanna Fuchs

Do we need to travel to Bethlehem? Physically, no. In our hearts? Yes. Bethlehem was just a small town located on the edge of the Judaean desert. There was nothing particularly special about it. I live in a small town, out in the desert, and to much of the world, there's nothing all that special about it. But it is from here that i make my annual journey to Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph were just ordinary people, but their mission was divine. I'm an ordinary person. Christmas is precious to ordinary people like me. The Atoning sacrifice followed by the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the most important thing which has ever happened in this world. It could not have happened without His birth. My family has heard me say for years that without Christmas there could be no Easter and without Easter, there is no need for Christmas. Every December, I start my journey to Bethlehem by reading the Gospels. I find Him in the pages. We need Him in our hearts. We need Him in our lives. Once we accept that He is Real, that He was Born in Bethlehem, that He lived, died and lives again we have found our way to Bethlehem.  ~~ Marilee

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THE ROAD TO BETHLEHEM

If as Herod, we fill our lives with things and again things;
If we consider ourselves so important that we must fill
Every moment of our lives with action;
When will we have the time to make the long slow journey
Across the burning desert as did the Magi;
Or sit and watch the stars as did the shepherds;
Or to brood over the coming of the Child as did Mary?
For each one of us there is a desert to travel,
A star to discover,
And a being within ourselves to bring to life.

~ Author Unknown

And so it was

 Luke 2:6-7

6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

7 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..

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"I truly believe that if we keep telling the Christmas story, singing the Christmas songs, and living the Christmas spirit, we can bring joy and happiness and peace to this world." -Norman Vincent Peale

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Somewhere in Your Silent Night

Performed by Casting Crowns

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nT-5cP4BeoI

Somewhere in your silent night

Heaven hears the song your broken heart has cried

Hope is here, just lift your head

For love has come to find you

Somewhere in your silent night

….

He knows your hurt

He knows your name

And you're the very reason that He came

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Apple Pie Oatmeal

1 cup quick-cooking oats

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1-1/2 teaspoons apple pie spice
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs
1-2/3 cups 2% milk, divided

1-1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 medium apples, peeled and finely chopped
Vanilla ice cream, optional

In a large bowl, whisk oats, flour, brown sugar, baking powder, pie spice and salt. In a small bowl, whisk eggs, 1 cup milk and vanilla until blended. Add to oat mixture, stirring just until moistened. Fold in apples.  Transfer to a greased 3-qt. slow cooker. Cook, covered, on low until apples are tender and top is set, 4-5 hours. Stir in remaining 2/3 cup milk. Serve warm or cold, with ice cream if desired.

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This is a great craft for children which will double as a service.  One you get the plates made, fill them with goodies of some kind, then deliver them 

Ribbon Wreath Plates

paper plates, any color or size (you can use plastic plates, but they’re harder to punch)

hole punch

ribbon, craft ribbon or curling ribbon

treats

Punch holes about every inch all the way around. Then pick a spot to start and thread the ribbon through each hole.

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The song for today and the following story are part 2 of yesterday's post dealing with grief.  I wish you well ~~~Marilee

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"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

Bob@BobPerks.com

 

copyright 2012 Bob Perks  I encourage you to share my stories with your friends but, when copying I ask that you keep my name and contact information attached so that new readers can find their way here. Use of this story for commercial use is prohibited without direct permission from the author.

and it came to

 Luke 2:1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Cæsar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed

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“Christmas is never over, unless you want it to be…Christmas is a state of mind.”—Lauren Myracle

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I really love this video and hope that you will watch it.  The graphics are beautiful, and the message is wonderful.  The video starts with a written message saying, “This Christmas find the peace you’ve been waiting for.  The star still shines”

The Star Still Shines (New Christmas song by Shawna Edwards)

If we seek the light

When peace is hard to find

He’ll send us silent nights

And touch our ears

So we can hear an angel voice.

And in the darkest times

He will lift our eyes

To see the star still shines

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Tater Tot Casserole

2 pounds ground beef (I use ground turkey)

1 large onion, chopped

1 pound sliced fresh mushrooms

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 cans (10-3/4 ounces each) condensed cream of mushroom soup, undiluted

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1 pound frozen cut green beans (Sometimes I use frozen mixed vegetables)

1 bag (32 ounces) frozen Tater Tots

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

In a large skillet cook meat over medium-high heat until no longer pink, 5-6 minutes, breaking into crumbles; drain and transfer to a 5-qt. slow cooker. Add onion and mushrooms to skillet; cook over medium-high heat until vegetables are tender, 8-10 minutes. Add garlic; cook 1 minute longer. Stir in condensed soup, salt and pepper. Place vegetable mixture in slow cooker; add green beans and stir to combine. Top with Tater Tots and cheese. Cook, covered, on low 6 hours. Let stand, uncovered, 15 minutes before serving. 

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I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to learn more about Christmas joy.  We can increase that joy by first, focusing on Jesus Christ, next focusing on Others around us and finally on You (ourselves).  This season can be a difficult one for people who are grieving.  The death of a spouse or of a marriage; the passing of a child or grandchild, the loss of a job or a home can leach all of the happiness from this season.  We need to remember that Joy is not the same as happiness. Happiness "happens to us", while joy lives within us. Happiness is like the bubbles in a hot tub—delightful but fleeting.  When conditions change, (like the timer runs out) the bubbles are gone, but the water is still there.  Joy is the water in the hot tub, or the oxygen that fills our world.  It is the ever present love of Our Savior.  If you are grieving or know someone who is, then you know that the world is upside down.  Nothing is the way it used to be and the things which once brought you happiness, don't anymore.  If you know someone who is grieving, share stories and memories with them.  Give them opportunities to get out and socialize, but don't try and force it.  Help them find positive tidbits to smile about.  Send texts, notes, or make quick phone calls.  Do chores.  Let them know someone cares.  Don't take it personally if they are not always warm and welcoming.  People can experience many different emotions at the same time, and anger is a part of loss and of grieving.  I am not a trained Social worker or Grief Counselor, but after being involved with Hospice for many, many years I have come to understand much about grief.  My advice is: Love them.  Love them.  Help them to feel the love of their Savior, Jesus Christ.  ~~ Marilee

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In 2008, Lavarr Webb gave permission for me to use this story written by his father, LaVarr B. Webb.  Mr. Webb was a prolific writer.  This story is their family favorite.

THE TWENTY-EIGHT CENT CHRISTMAS TREE

~LaVarr B. Webb

It was a cold day. A gray day, gray with the threat of snow, and gray with the threat of tears. There were children in our family, three of them, ages one, twelve, and fourteen. There were two children missing on that cold, gray day. They had died one Easter season some four years before. Scarlet Fever had wracked their bodies and blotched their skin.

But now the memory of that sad season was replaced by what could be a happier one. It was Christmas Eve 1935, a Depression year. My father was without a job, trying to get on WPA (Works Progress Administration).

I don't know where he was that night, just that he wasn't home, but I remember my mother trying to create Christmas joy with nothing to work with.

I was fourteen. My older sister was twelve. I don't remember that we were too concerned about receiving Christmas presents, at least I wasn't. My sister probably wanted a doll. She always wanted a doll, a baby doll, a doll like my baby sister had been, with fat, pink cheeks, and chubby hands and arms.

But now, Christmas Eve, my baby sister was thin and listless. I remember my mother telling my father, "My baby isn't getting proper food."

I don't remember much about that Christmas of 1935 other than I wanted a Christmas Tree. I told my mother, "Christmas will not be Christmas if we do not have a Christmas tree."

My sister and I begged for a tree. My mother told us "Time, and time again," "We have no money and I cannot buy a Christmas Tree."

My sister and I would not be deterred. We took colored paper from catalogs, cut it into strips, curled the strips into circles, and using flour and water paste, pasted one link into another until we had long lengths of highly colored paper chains.

We looked for tin foil from discarded chewing gum wrappers and cigarette packs. Some of the foil we cut into thin strips for icicles. Our neighbor had an English Walnut tree. We took halves of walnut shells, wrapped them with foil, and had beautiful ornaments that would rival anything found in a store.

We popped popcorn and made chains. We found discarded cranberries and made cranberry chains, but we had no Christmas Tree for our lovely ornaments. Finally, as day was fading, and the dark was creeping across the valley, I asked my mother, "See how much money you have. Maybe someone will sell me a tree."

She went to her purse and handed me twenty-eight cents. She was crying when she said, "That is all I have."

I jumped on my bike and rode up to Twenty First South Street in Salt Lake City where all the Christmas Tree lots were located. I went from lot to lot, but no one would sell me a tree for twenty-eight cents.

About nine o'clock, up on Twenty First South and State Street, I found a man turning off his lights and shutting down for the day, shutting down for the season. I asked him, "Do you have a tree you will sell for twenty-eight cents?"

His exact words were, "What the heck! I can't sell anymore anyway. Take your pick."

I found one just a little taller than I was, gave him my twenty-eight cents, put the tree across my handlebars, and headed home. As I peddled out of the lot, I heard him cry, "Merry Christmas" -- and it was.