Christmas Day Prayer

Christmas Day Prayer

O God the Father, I praise You for the gift
of your Son, who was born in the poverty and
lowliness of Bethlehem so that I might enjoy
the riches of your grace and the exaltation of
sonship with you.

O God the Son, I adore for humbling
Yourself to be my Savior, for bearing my sins in
Thine own body, and for rendering to my Father
in heaven a perfect satisfaction for my transgressions.

O God the Holy Spirit, I glorify You for
having made my heart a dwelling place of the
Savior of the world and for bringing the peace
of forgiveness to my soul through faith in Him
who is the Prince of Peace.

O blessed Trinity, on this holy day give me
a humble and contrite heart that I may joyfully
claim the Babe of Bethlehem as my Lord and
my God. Remove from me the tattered robes of
my own righteousness, and adorn me with the
spotless garment of Christ's righteousness.
Use every gift received this day from loving
friends to remind me of the gift of a Savior so
that my heart may rejoice and my tongue can
sing, "Glory to God in the highest!"

Help me to cradle the' Christ Child in my
heart, O Holy Spirit, and give me the grace and
strength to love and adore Him all the days of
my life. Amen..

What if Christ had not come???

As many young boys and girls await Santa Claus…you know…”Here comes Santa Claus, Here Comes Santa Claus…right down Santa Claus Lane…” You have heard the jingle and the words from mouth of babes. Oh-h-h! How disappointed these little ones would be if Santa Claus did not arrive.

How would we react or feel if Christ had not come??? A valid question. I remember a story I had read about what if Christ had not come.

It begins with a profound thought generated from what this man read…he is a man of the cloth. He was reflecting on a vision he had. Upon reflecting on this vision…he falls asleep with this on his mind. So…dreaming of a world into which Jesus had never come.

In this dream, he saw himself walking through his house, but as he looked, he saw no stockings hung on the chimney, no Christmas tree, no wreaths of holly, and no Christ to comfort and gladden hearts or to save us. He then walked onto the street outside his house, but there was no church with its spire pointing toward heaven. And when he came back and sat down in his library, he realized that every book about our Savior had disappeared.

The minister dreamed that the doorbell rang and that a messenger asked him to visit a friend’s poor dying mother. He reached her home, and as his friend sat and wept, he said, “I have something here that will comfort you.” He opened his Bible to look for a familiar promise, but it ended with Malachi. There was no gospel and no promise of hope and salvation, and all he could do was bow his head and weep with his friend and his mother in bitter despair.

Two days later he stood beside her coffin and conducted her funeral service, but there was no message of comfort, no words of a glorious resurrection, and no thought of a mansion awaiting her in heaven. There was only “dust to dust, and ashes to ashes.” And one long, eternal farewell. Finally he realized that Christ had not come, and he burst into tears, weeping bitterly in his sorrowful dream.

Then suddenly he awoke with a start, and a great shout of joy and praise burst from his lips as he heard his choir singing these words in his church nearby:

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,

O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem!

Come and behold Him, born the King of angels,

O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!

Let us be glad and rejoice today, because He has come. And let us remember the proclamation of the angel: “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11)

Oh...thank God...Christ did come!!! Lets remember and celebrate his birthday on Christmas Day.

More Than a Gift

More Than a Gift

That Christmas I couldn't help focusing on what we didn't have. Then came an inexplicable gift of God's love...

By Ellen Scarano, Annapolis, Maryland

I couldn't help but notice the ornament in the Hallmark store. “Baby’s First Christmas” read the white cursive letters across the top of the ball, a brightly-lit Christmas tree surrounded by toys stood in the background. My husband, Rich, and I were new parents to our daughter, Andrea. What a perfect way to mark her first Christmas! I looked at the price: five dollars. Even that was too much to spend on something we didn’t really need.
The year before had started out promising. We had bought a house and, shortly after, found out I was pregnant. We were thrilled! But a month later, I lost my job. Now we were struggling to pay the bills, and were all alone in a new neighborhood where we didn’t know a soul.
I spent what I could on Christmas gifts in order to give at least something to our family. Whenever I thought about the ornament, though, I was disappointed. Yet, even praying about wanting this Christmas to be special felt more like whining to God about how things just weren't going my way.

A few days before Christmas we were hit with a snowstorm. While Andrea slept and Rich was at work, I shoveled our driveway. All of a sudden, a voice rose above the blustery wind.
“Yoohoo! Over here!”
It was my neighbor Pauline. We’d only exchanged a hello or two over our fences before. What would make her come outside in this weather? I wondered.
She trudged through the heavy snow and headed toward our yard. I met her halfway.
“This is just a little something,” she said, handing me a small box.
“Thank you,” I said. “You shouldn’t have.”
What a nice neighbor we had! Whether the box held Christmas cookies or a festive candle didn’t matter. It was just the reminder I needed that blessings were all around us.
Back inside, I opened the box. It was more than a little something. A Hallmark ornament, “Baby’s First Christmas.”  

Worth the Wait

Worth the Wait

“Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ.” Luke 2:25-26

The first Christmas was an exercise in waiting for God, as His people had been anticipating the arrival of Messiah for hundreds of years. They longed and looked for their Lord to come as sovereign ruler and king. But instead, God’s son entered earth in a humble manager, secured by a simple stable.

His parents were not royal or regal, but righteous, yet a little rough around the edges. The ethos of Jesus’ birth was unexpected, but He arrived at just the right time to redeem the souls of men. The Bible says, “But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His son, born of a woman, born under the law…”(Galatians 4:4, NKJV).

God is worth the wait, because He is never late, but seldom is He as early as men may ask. What are you waiting for right now? A job? A wedding? A class? Forgiveness? Peace? Love? Whatever your situation, wait for the Lord to lead you into His opportunities, and, by faith, you will find fulfillment. Waiting for God is worthwhile.

God is worth the wait, because He gets you to where you need to be, without relying on the delay of human hassle. People are pawns in the hand of Providence; so do not trust in them for peace or progress. God will bring just the right relationships and resources into place in His perfect timing. Trust Him to be your provision, for He will provide what you need in the nick of time. You can stare down fear by the inner strength of the Holy Spirit.

Confide in Christ as your confidant, and He will counsel you in the wise way to walk. Wait for God’s best, and, in retrospect, you will have no regrets. Look for Him in humble people and simple situations, as pride and sin seem to over-complicate circumstances. Jesus was worth the wait at His first coming, and He will be worth the wait at His second coming. In the meantime practice His presence in the present.

Prayerfully follow the Holy Spirit’s leading during times of waiting, and you will walk in the ways of the wise. The Bible says this about a saint who profoundly understood waiting for God, “Noah was a righteous man, blameless in His time, Noah walked with God” (Genesis 6:9). This Christmas: wait on Christ to show you His next steps for your life.

Where do I need to be patient and wait on God to fulfill His purpose in His timing? 

First Christmas

First Christmas

“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manager.” Luke 2:11-12

The focus of the first Christmas was Jesus. It was His day. There was no competition from commercialism seeking economic gain. The gifts were given to Him. God was the recipient of gratitude and generosity. He was glorified on this day of salvation for all who would come to believe in Jesus as God’s only Son.

There was an appreciation for the Almighty’s descent into the decadence of humanity. There was no feuding from other faiths jockeying with each other for time in the Savior’s spotlight. On the contrary, there was a religious respect and humble worship from those who traveled great distances from their diverse origins of belief. On this day, Jesus unified sincere seekers of truth.

The first Christmas, however, was not without controversy. Politically, He was a lightning rod (some things never change). Government leaders felt threatened, as if a traitor had infiltrated their influence over the masses. Involuntary spies were sent to validate His presence. Once His birth had been verified, the powers-that-be went to work. Insecurity and fear drive people to commit irrational acts, and it was no different back then.

So what started as a celestial coronation for the Prince of Peace ended with jealous leaders taking severe and deadly action. The Christ-child was driven from their pitiful, but powerful presence. They destroyed other God-fearing people in the process. The community was cast into chaos when Christ was removed from their culture.

We can learn from the first Christmas to keep Christ central in our worship and our society. He is the wonder of our worship. He is the reason for our giving gifts. It is because we celebrate His birthday that we pause to pray, reflect, and plan to follow His will in a more robust and intentional manner. Our Master came to earth and made Himself like man.

He took on the form of a servant, though He could have crowned Himself as King. He pointed us to the love and forgiveness of His heavenly Father. The Christ-child was born of a virgin. He was God who dwelt among us; but sometimes we forget Him, even on His birthday. One reason we have failed to keep Christ in Christmas is we have failed to keep Him in some of our churches.

Why should the culture embrace the Christ of Christmas, when some of our churches have marginalized their Master? Let’s start by inviting the Almighty back into our churches with fresh and revitalized reverence in worship, evangelism, and discipleship. Let’s prayerfully and responsibly only “lay hands” on leaders who fear God, hate sin, love people, and teach the Bible. Christmas is losing its luster for the Lord because Christians have forgotten to fear God.

His birth is only significant if His death and resurrection are significant. The Christ of Christmas becomes compelling when we, as followers, flock to Him in faithfulness and obedience. Let all of us who name the name of Jesus revisit Him in the awe and worship of that first Christmas. Let’s exclaim, with enthusiasm to a hurting world, that He has come to heal broken hearts and revive sick souls.

We unapologetically celebrate His birthday with passion, because God is with us. He is transforming us into the likeness of His Son. Let’s make this Christmas like the first Christmas. Let’s invite the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with forgiveness, joy, hope, peace, and love while we worship our Lord together. The first Christmas fuels our faith and recalibrates us to Christ.

Taken from the December 16th reading of Seeking Daily the Heart of God. 

Keeping Christ in CHRISTmas

Keeping Christ in Christmas ...

In December, it's easy to get lost in the hustle of the holidays--especially with kids in the house. How do we truly keep Christ in Christmas?

Here are some helpful tips from some other busy parents like you. We hope they'll inspire you to find your own unique ways to help your children celebrate Jesus this year.

	1)	Take a few minutes at the end of the day to read a few verses from the Christmas story.
	2)	Talk together about how you can bless an elderly neighbor, a single parent or an adoptive family.
	3)	Bake a "birthday cake" to celebrate Jesus' birth.
	4)	As you're shopping or waiting in line, pray for those around you who might not know the Lord.
	5)	Ask your pastor or school principal about ways you could help a struggling family in your community.
	6)	Give your kids an early Christmas gift--the opportunity to pick out a special devotional book to share.
	7)	Make a list of "gifts" you and your family could give to Jesus this year--like acts of kindness, prayers for friends and family or even decisions to spend more time with Him.

The Gift I Gave Away

Are we Prepared for the Presence of God?

Preparing for the Presence of God


"Prepare the way of the Lord; make His paths straight ....
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God. "
(Luke 3:4, 6)

If we are to receive the powerful presence of God, we must prepare ourselves as John the Baptist lead the way to prepare the people of this time for the arrival of Jesus Christ.  Are you ready?  Prepared?  I pray we head the message from John the Baptist, God's messenger,  to help people from his time to our current time, to receive the Savior of the world. 

John preached unwavering: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" (Matt. 3:2). 
Those who heard John's message and prepared their lives recognized Jesus when He came, and they left all to follow Him. This was especially true of the disciples, whose hearts God Himself prepared (Matt. 16:17). 

Preparation must precede God's presence!

God's instruction, as was John the Baptist, for preparation is specific: REPENT!
This involves a complete change of mind, heart, will, and our behavior toward him.  

He is Lord, and your life must be prepared to receive Him as your Lord. Anything less... is inadequate. Some were obviously unprepared to follow Jesus and missed the opportunity. (Luke 9:57-62). The religious leaders of Jesus' day were largely unprepared for His arrival. They knew the Messiah was coming. They even knew where He would be born. (Matt. 2:4-6). Yet... when word came that the Savior had been born, they made no effort to join Him, preferring instead their religious ritual. How about you?  Are you going to be like them?  Knowing but unwilling... to be prepared, as we go here and there, do this and do that, with being preoccupied in all of our daily activities, events, commitments, etc.

Please permit this being said...if you and I allow ourselves to be unprepared...we can and will miss the opportunity to experience Jesus. Consider this a warning...much like John the Baptist.  

You may practice religion, but you will miss God. 

While others encounter the Lord personally in worship, your heart will remain unmoved. 

As others receive a fresh word from God, you will experience a painful silence. 

Others thirst and hunger for His word daily, seek opportunity to serve him, as Jesus served us...Yet! Others travel with blinders...as one looks into a mirror...we focus on ourselves...instead of others.  We need and must, not only prepare ourselves, but help others to prepare for the coming of Jesus Christ.  Are we prepared to celebrate his birthday?  Are we prepared to welcome Him into our daily conduct, demeanor and become the beacon for others to see?

Religious activity can never substitute for a heart that is pure before Him.

As John the Baptist...prepared others for Jesus coming...let's prepare ourselves and others for Jesus presence as we celebrate His birthday...his presence in our and others lives, and his presence to come...the "Second Coming".

Stay tuned...my next message to follow soon...as we celebrate Christmas...but What IF CHRIST HAD NOT COME?

Also expect more seasonal recipes in days ahead.

I pray you to enjoy many blessings this Christmas and always.

Your Brother in Christ 

Santa and Little Sarah

Received via email from a friend...hope you are blessed by this as I was...I shall never forget.

Santa & Sarah

Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at

the Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap,

holding a picture of a little girl. "Who is this?" asked Santa,

smiling. "Your friend?" Your sister?

"Yes, Santa," he replied. "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly.

Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw

her dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

"She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!"

The child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.

Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face,

asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas. When they

finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the

Child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.

"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.

"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but ..." the old

woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to

collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.

"The girl in the photograph .. My granddaughter .. well, you see ..

she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the

Holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa

.... any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's

asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."

Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave

information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see

what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that

afternoon. He knew what he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying

in that Hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this

is the Least I can do."

When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening,

he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was

staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to

Children's Hospital.

"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier

that day. "C'mon .... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.

Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa.

They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait

out in the hall.

Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and

saw little Sarah on the bed. The room was full of what appeared to be

her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had

met earlier that day.

A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently

pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead.

And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a

chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking

quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family,

and their love and concern for Sarah.

Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered

the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"

"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed

to run to him, IV tubes in tact.

Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender

age of his own son -- 9 years old -- gazed up at him with wonder and

excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald

patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he

looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes.

His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears.

Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the

gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room. As he and Sarah

began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one,

squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering "thank

you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes.

Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the

toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good

girl that year.

As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray

for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded

in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding

hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.

"Oh , yes, Santa ... I do!" she exclaimed.

"Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you, "he said.

Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed.

He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease.

He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he

finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly,

"Silent Night, Holy Night - all is calm, all is bright."

The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and

crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at

them all.

When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held

Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.

"Now, Sarah," he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that

is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with

your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at

Mayfair Mall this time next year!"

He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had

terminal cancer, but he "had" to.

He had to give her the greatest gift he could -- not dolls or games or

toys -- but the gift of HOPE.

"Yes, Santa!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.

Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed

between them and they wept unashamed. Sarah's mother and grandmother

slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank

him. "My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly.

"This is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged him.

One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for

his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went

by and then one day a child came u p to sit on his lap.

"Hi, Santa! Remember me?!"

"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her.

After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each

child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that

moment.

"You came to see me in the hospital last year!" Santa's jaw dropped.

Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little

miracle and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely

recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were

rosy -- much different from the little girl he had visited just a year

before. He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the

sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.

That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus.

He had witnessed --and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing

about -- this miracle of hope. This precious little child was healed.

Cancer-free. Alive and well.

He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank You

Father. ' Tis a very, Merry Christmas!"

LIFE IS GOD'S GIFT TO YOU ... HOW YOU LIVE IT IS YOUR GIFT TO GOD,

YOURSELF AND LOVED ONES.

The Last Bus

Christmas Blessings

More Cookies, Cakes and Drinks Recipes

From Cookies, Egg Nog to Spiced Cider Recipes

Gifts of the Magi

How wise are we with our gifts of material things and of our gift of time?  Are we wise or unwise? 
Lets see how wise these two couple Della and James were.


Gifts of the Magi, by O. Henry
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title and story as they appeared originally in the New York World.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And 60 cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below belonged to this flat a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of "Dillingham" looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had ony $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling-something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry and mocked at Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting, before Madame, large, too white, chilly and hardly looking the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was none other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation-as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value-the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends-a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do-oh, what could, I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents!"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please, God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he-was only twenty-two-and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow again-you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut if off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room .curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you-sold and gone too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with a sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed to quickly wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going awhile at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs-the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped for long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims-just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull, precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted allover town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men-wonderfully wise men-who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas gifts. Being wise, their gifts .were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were of the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

A piece taken from www.firstworldwar.com

The Christmas Truce

You are standing up to your knees in the slime of a waterlogged trench.  It is the evening of 24 December 1914 and you are on the dreaded Western Front.

Stooped over, you wade across to the firing step and take over the watch.  Having exchanged pleasantries, your bleary-eyed and mud-spattered colleague shuffles off towards his dug out.  Despite the horrors and the hardships, your morale is high and you believe that in the New Year the nation's army march towards a glorious victory.

But for now you stamp your feet in a vain attempt to keep warm.  All is quiet when jovial voices call out from both friendly and enemy trenches.  Then the men from both sides start singing carols and songs.  Next come requests not to fire, and soon the unthinkable happens: you start to see the shadowy shapes of soldiers gathering together in no-man's land laughing, joking and sharing gifts.

Many have exchanged cigarettes, the lit ends of which burn brightly in the inky darkness.  Plucking up your courage, you haul yourself up and out of the trench and walk towards the foe...

The meeting of enemies as friends in no-man's land was experienced by hundreds, if not thousands, of men on the Western Front during Christmas 1914.  Today, 90 years after it occurred, the event is seen as a shining episode of sanity from among the bloody chapters of World War One - a spontaneous effort by the lower ranks to create a peace that could have blossomed were it not for the interference of generals and politicians.

The reality of the Christmas Truce, however, is a slightly less romantic and a more down to earth story.  It was an organic affair that in some spots hardly registered a mention and in others left a profound impact upon those who took part.

Many accounts were rushed, confused or contradictory.  Others, written long after the event, are weighed down by hindsight.  These difficulties aside, the true story is still striking precisely because of its rag-tagged nature: it is more 'human' and therefore all the more potent.

Months beforehand, millions of servicemen, reservists and volunteers from all over the continent had rushed enthusiastically to the banners of war: the atmosphere was one of holiday rather than conflict.

But it was not long before the jovial façade was torn away. Armies equipped with repeating rifles, machine guns and a vast array of artillery tore chunks out of each other, and thousands upon thousands of men perished.

To protect against the threat of this vast firepower, the soldiers were ordered to dig in and prepare for next year's offensives, which most men believed would break the deadlock and deliver victory.

The early trenches were often hasty creations and poorly constructed; if the trench was badly sighted it could become a sniping hot spot.  In bad weather (the winter of 1914 was a dire one) the positions could flood and fall in.  The soldiers - unequipped to face the rigors of the cold and rain - found themselves wallowing in a freezing mire of mud and the decaying bodies of the fallen.

The man at the Front could not help but have a degree of sympathy for his opponents who were having just as miserable a time as they were.

Another factor that broke down the animosity between the opposing armies were the surroundings.  In 1914 the men at the front could still see the vestiges of civilization   Villages, although badly smashed up, were still standing.  Fields, although pitted with shell-holes, had not been turned into muddy lunarscapes.

Thus the other world - the civilian world - and the social mores and manners that went with it was still present at the front.  Also lacking was the pain, misery and hatred that years of bloody war build up.  Then there was the desire, on all sides, to see the enemy up close - was he really as bad as the politicians, papers and priests were saying?

It was a combination of these factors, and many more minor ones, that made the Christmas Truce of 1914 possible.

On the eve of the Truce, the British Army (still a relatively small presence on the Western Front) was manning a stretch of the line running south from the infamous Ypres salient for 27 miles to the La Bassee Canal.

Along the front the enemy was sometimes no more than 70, 50 or even 30 yards away.  Both Tommy and Fritz could quite easily hurl greetings and insults to one another, and, importantly, come to tacit agreements not to fire.  Incidents of temporary truces and outright fraternization were more common at this stage in the war than many people today realize - even units that had just taken part in a series of futile and costly assaults, were still willing to talk and come to arrangements with their opponents.

As Christmas approached the festive mood and the desire for a lull in the fighting increased as parcels packed with goodies from home started to arrive.  On top of this came gifts care of the state.  Tommy received plum puddings and 'Princess Mary boxes'; a metal case engraved with an outline of George V's daughter and filled with chocolates and butterscotch, cigarettes and tobacco, a picture card of Princess Mary and a facsimile of George V's greeting to the troops.  'May God protect you and bring you safe home,' it said.

Not to be outdone, Fritz received a present from the Kaiser, the Kaiserliche, a large meerschaum pipe for the troops and a box of cigars for NCOs and officers.  Towns, villages and cities, and numerous support associations on both sides also flooded the front with gifts of food, warm clothes and letters of thanks.

The Belgians and French also received goods, although not in such an organised fashion as the British or Germans.  For these nations the Christmas of 1914 was tinged with sadness - their countries were occupied.  It is no wonder that the Truce, although it sprung up in some spots on French and Belgian lines, never really caught hold as it did in the British sector.

With their morale boosted by messages of thanks and their bellies fuller than normal, and with still so much Christmas booty to hand, the season of goodwill entered the trenches.  A BritishDaily Telegraph correspondent wrote that on one part of the line the Germans had managed to slip a chocolate cake into British trenches.

Even more amazingly, it was accompanied with a message asking for a ceasefire later that evening so they could celebrate the festive season and their Captain's birthday.  They proposed a concert at 7.30pm when candles, the British were told, would be placed on the parapets of their trenches.

The British accepted the invitation and offered some tobacco as a return present.  That evening, at the stated time, German heads suddenly popped up and started to sing.  Each number ended with a round of applause from both sides.

The Germans then asked the British to join in.  At this point, one very mean-spirited Tommy shouted: 'We'd rather die than sing German.'  To which a German joked aloud: 'It would kill us if you did'.

December 24 was a good day weather-wise: the rain had given way to clear skies.

On many stretches of the Front the crack of rifles and the dull thud of shells ploughing into the ground continued, but at a far lighter level than normal.  In other sectors there was an unnerving silence that was broken by the singing and shouting drifting over, in the main, from the German trenches.

Along many parts of the line the Truce was spurred on with the arrival in the German trenches of miniature Christmas trees - Tannenbaum.  The sight these small pines, decorated with candles and strung along the German parapets, captured the Tommies' imagination, as well as the men of the Indian corps who were reminded of the sacred Hindu festival of light.

It was the perfect excuse for the opponents to start shouting to one another, to start singing and, in some areas, to pluck up the courage to meet one another in no-man's land.

By now, the British high command - comfortably 'entrenched' in a luxurious châteaux 27 miles behind the front - was beginning to hear of the fraternization.

Stern orders were issued by the commander of the BEF, Sir John Frenchagainst such behaviour.  Other 'brass-hats' (as the Tommies nick-named their high-ranking officers and generals), also made grave pronouncements on the dangers and consequences of parleying with the Germans.

However, there were many high-ranking officers who took a surprisingly relaxed view of the situation.  If anything, they believed it would at least offer their men an opportunity to strengthen their trenches.  This mixed stance meant that very few officers and men involved in the Christmas Truce were disciplined.

Interestingly, the German High Command's ambivalent attitude towards the Truce mirrored that of the British.

Christmas day began quietly but once the sun was up the fraternization began.  Again songs were sung and rations thrown to one another.  It was not long before troops and officers started to take matters into their own hands and ventured forth.  No-man's land became something of a playground.

Men exchanged gifts and buttons.  In one or two places soldiers who had been barbers in civilian times gave free haircuts.  One German, a juggler and a showman, gave an impromptu, and given the circumstances, somewhat surreal performance of his routine in the centre of no-man's land.

Captain Sir Edward Hulse of the Scots Guards, in his famous account, remembered the approach of four unarmed Germans at 08.30.  He went out to meet them with one of his ensigns.  'Their spokesmen,' Hulse wrote, 'started off by saying that he thought it only right to come over and wish us a happy Christmas, and trusted us implicitly to keep the truce.  He came from Suffolk where he had left his best girl and a 3 ½ h.p. motor-bike!'

Having raced off to file a report at headquarters, Hulse returned at 10.00 to find crowds of British soldiers and Germans out together chatting and larking about in no-man's land, in direct contradiction to his orders.

Not that Hulse seemed to care about the fraternization in itself - the need to be seen to follow orders was his concern.  Thus he sought out a German officer and arranged for both sides to return to their lines.

While this was going on he still managed to keep his ears and eyes open to the fantastic events that were unfolding.

'Scots and Huns were fraternizing in the most genuine possible manner.  Every sort of souvenir was exchanged addresses given and received, photos of families shown, etc.  One of our fellows offered a German a cigarette; the German said, "Virginian?"  Our fellow said, "Aye, straight-cut", the German said "No thanks, I only smoke Turkish!"... It gave us all a good laugh.'

Hulse's account was in part a letter to his mother, who in turn sent it on to the newspapers for publication, as was the custom at the time.  Tragically, Hulse was killed in March 1915.

On many parts of the line the Christmas Day truce was initiated through sadder means.  Both sides saw the lull as a chance to get into no-man's land and seek out the bodies of their compatriots and give them a decent burial.  Once this was done the opponents would inevitably begin talking to one another.

The 6th Gordon Highlanders, for example, organised a burial truce with the enemy.  After the gruesome task of laying friends and comrades to rest was complete, the fraternization began.

With the Truce in full swing up and down the line there were a number of recorded games of soccer, although these were really just 'kick-abouts' rather than a structured match.

On January 1, 1915, the London Times published a letter from a major in the Medical Corps reporting that in his sector the British played a game against the Germans opposite and were beaten 3-2.

Kurt Zehmisch of the 134th Saxons recorded in his diary: 'The English brought a soccer ball from the trenches, and pretty soon a lively game ensued.  How marvellously wonderful, yet how strange it was.  The English officers felt the same way about it.  Thus Christmas, the celebration of Love, managed to bring mortal enemies together as friends for a time.'

The Truce lasted all day; in places it ended that night, but on other sections of the line it held over Boxing Day and in some areas, a few days more.  In fact, there parts on the front where the absence of aggressive behaviour was conspicuous well into 1915.

Captain J C Dunn, the Medical Officer in the Royal Welch Fusiliers, whose unit had fraternized and received two barrels of beer from the Saxon troops opposite, recorded how hostilities re-started on his section of the front.

Dunn wrote: 'At 8.30 I fired three shots in the air and put up a flag with "Merry Christmas" on it, and I climbed on the parapet.  He [the Germans] put up a sheet with "Thank you" on it, and the German Captain appeared on the parapet.  We both bowed and saluted and got down into our respective trenches, and he fired two shots in the air, and the War was on again.'

The war was indeed on again, for the Truce had no hope of being maintained.  Despite being wildly reported in Britain and to a lesser extent in Germany, the troops and the populations of both countries were still keen to prosecute the conflict.

Today, pragmatists read the Truce as nothing more than a 'blip' - a temporary lull induced by the season of goodwill, but willingly exploited by both sides to better their defenses and eye out one another's positions.  Romantics assert that the Truce was an effort by normal men to bring about an end to the slaughter.

In the public's mind the facts have become irrevocably mythologized, and perhaps this is the most important legacy of the Christmas Truce today.  In our age of uncertainty, it comforting to believe, regardless of the real reasoning and motives, that soldiers and officers told to hate, loathe and kill, could still lower their guns and extend the hand of goodwill, peace, love and Christmas cheer.